Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,
O'er-run and trampled on.

Then what they do in present,
Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours:
For time is like a fashionable host,
That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand;
And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly,
Grasps-in the comer: Welcome ever smiles,
And Farewell goes out sighing.

O, let not virtue seek
Remuneration for the thing it was;
For beauty, wit,

High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
To envious and calumniating time.
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,—
That all, with one consent, praise new-born gawds,
Though they are made and moulded of things past;
And give to dust, that is a little gilt,
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.

The present eye praises the present object:
Then marvel not, thou great and complete man.
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;
Since things in motion sooner catch the eye,
Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee,
And still it might; and yet it may again,
If thou would'st not entomb thyself alive,
And case thy reputation in thy tent;
Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,
Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves,
And drove great Mars to faction.

THERSITES'S HUMOROUS ACCOUNT OF AJAX.

. Ther. A wonder!

Achil. What?

Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, asking for himself.

Achil. How so?

Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector; and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing.

Achil. How can that be?

Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock,—a stride, and a stand: ruminates, like an hostess, that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set down her reckoning: bites his lip with a politic regard, as who should say,— There were wit in this head, an 'twould out; and so there is; but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not show without knocking. The man's undone for ever; for if Hector break not his neck i' the combat, he 'll break it himself in vainglory. He knows not me: I said, "Good-morrow, Ajax;" and he replies, "Thanks, Agamemnon." What think you of this man, that takes me for the general? He is grown a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin.

CORIOLANUS.

MENENIUS RELATES HIS FABLE OF THE BELLY AND THE LIMBS TO THE MUTINOUS CITIZENS.

Men There was a time when all the body's members Rebell'd against the belly; thus accused it:—. That only like a gulf it did remain I' the midst o' the body, idle and inactive, Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing Like labour with the rest; where the other instruments Did see, and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, And, mutually participate, did minister Unto the appetite and affection common Of the whole body. The belly answered,—

"True is it, my incorporate friends, That I receive the general food at first, Which you do live upon: and fit it is; Because I am the store-house and the shop Of the whole body: But if you do remember, I send it through the rivers of your blood, Even to the court, the heart,—to the seat o' the brain; And, through the cranks and offices of man, The strongest nerves, and small inferior veins, From me receive t^at natural competency Whereby they live: And though that all at once, You my good friends," (this says the belly,) mark me,—

1 C'it. Ay, Sir; well, well.

Men. "Though all at once cannot

See what I do deliver out to each;
Yet I can make my audit up, that all
From me do back receive the flour of all,
And leave me but the bran." What say ye to't?

1 Git. It was an answer: How apply you this?

Men. The senators of Rome are this good belly,
And you the mutinous members: For examine
Their counsels, and their cares; digest things rightly,
Touching the weal o' the common; you shall find,
No public benefit which you receive,
But it proceeds, or comes, from them to you,
And no way from yourselves.

BRUTUS THUS SPEAKS OF CORIOLANUS.

All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights Are spectacled to see him: Your prattling nurse Into a rapture lets her baby cry, While she chats him: the kitchen malkin pins Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck, Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks, windows, Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges horsed With variable complexions; all agreeing In earnestness to see him: seld-shown flamens Do press among the popular throngs, and puff To win a vulgar station: our veiled dames Commit the war of white and damask, in Their nicely-gawded cheeks, to the wanton spoil Of Phoebus' burning kisses: such a pother, As if that whatsoever god, who leads him, Were slyly crept into his human powers, And gave him graceful posture.

JULIUS CiESAE.

RE-ENTER CESAR, AND HIS TRAIN.

Bru. The games are done, and Caesar is returning.

Cas. As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve;
And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you
What hath proceeded, worthy note, to-day.

Bru. I will do so :—But, look you, Cassius,

The angry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow,
And all the rest look like a chidden train:
Calphurnia's cheek is pale; and Cicero
Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes
As we have seen him in the capitol,
Being cross'd in conference by some senators.

Cas. Casca will tell us what the matter is.

Cops. Antonius.

Ant. Caesar.

Cces. Let me have men about me that are fat;
Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights:
Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look;
He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.

Ant. Fear him not, Caesar, he's not dangerous;
He is a noble Roman, and well given.

Cces. 'Would he were fatter:—But I fear him not:
Yet if my name were liable to fear,
I do not know the man I should avoid
So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much;
He is a great observer, and he looks
Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays,
As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music:
Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort,
As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit
That could be moved to smile at any thing.
Such men as he be never at heart's ease,
Whiles they behold a greater than themselves;
And therefore are they very dangerous.
I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd,
Than what I fear, for always I am Caesar.
Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf,
And tell me truly what thou think'st of him.

BRUTUS SOLILOQUIZES ON THE NECESSITY OF PUTTING
CSSSAR TO DEATH.

It must be by his death: and, for my part, I know no personal cause to spurn at him, But for the general. He would be crown'd :— How that might change his nature, there's the question. It is the bright day that brings forth the adder; And that craves wary walking. Crown him ?—That;— And then, I grant, we put a sting in him, That at his will he may do danger with.

The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins
Remorse from power: And, to speak truth of Caesar,
I have not known when his affections sway'd
More than his reason.

But't is a common proof,
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
Whereto the climber-upward turns his face:
But when he once attains the upmost round,
He then unto the ladder turns his back,
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
By which he did ascend: So Caesar may;
Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the quarrel
Will bear no colour for the thing he is,
Fashion it thus; that what he is, augmented,
Would run to these, and these extremities:
And therefore think him as a serpent's egg,
Which, hatch'd, would, as his kind, grow mischievous;
And kill him in the shell.

BRUTUS OBJECTS TO ANTONTf's BEING PUT TO DEATH WITH CESAR.

Dec. Shall no man else be touch'd but only Caesar?

Gas. Decius, well urged :—I think it is not meet,
Mark Antony, so well beloved of Caesar,
Should outlive Caesar: We shall find of him
A shrewd contriver; and, you know, his means,
If he improves them, may well stretch so far,
As to annoy us all: which to prevent,
Let Antony and Caesar fall together.

Bru. Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius,
To cut the head off, and then hack the limbs;
Like wrath in death, and envy afterwards:
For Antony is but a limb of Caesar.
Let us be sacrificers, but no butchers, Caius.
We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar;
And in the spirit of men there is no blood:
O that we then could come by Caesar's spirit,
And not dismember Caesar! But, alas,
Caesar must bleed for it! And, gentle friends,
Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully;
Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods,
Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds:
And let our hearts, as subtle masters do,