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2 Cit. Well,

I'll hear it, Sir-yet you must not think
To fob off our difgraces with a tale :

But, an't please you, deliver.

Men. There was a time, when all the body's members Rebell'd against the belly; thus accus'd it ;That only, like a Gulf, it did remain I'th' midit o'th' body, idle and unactive, Still cupboarding the Viand, never bearing Like labour with the reft; where th'other inftruments Did fee, and hear, devife, inftruct, walk, feel, And mutually participate, did minister Unto the appetite, and affection common Of the whole body. The belly answer'd

2 Cit. Well, Sir, what answer made the belly? Men (2) Sir, Ifhall tell you. With a kind of fmile, Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus (For look you, I may make the belly fmile, As well as fpeak) it tauntingly reply'd

To th' difcontented members, th' mutinous Parts,
That envied his receipt; even fo most fitly,
As you malign our Senators, for that
They are not fuch as you-

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2 Cit. Your belly's anfwer-. what!
The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye,
The counfellor heart, the arm our foldier,
Our fteed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter;
With other muniments and petty helps

In this our fabrick, if that they

wrote, as I have corrected the Text: and then 'the Meaning will be plainly this. "Perhaps, you may have heard my Tale already, but for all that, I'll venture to make it more ftale and familiar to you, by telling it over again." And nothing is more common than the Verb in this Senfe, with our three Capital Dramatic Poets.

(2) Sir, I fall tell you with a kind of Smile,

Which ne'er came from the Lungs,] Thus all the Editors, mot Atupidly, hitherto; as if Menenius were to fmile in telling his Story, tho' the Lines, which immediately follow, make it evident that the Belly was meant to fmile.

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Men

Ce " Conclanus.

Conolanus

Coriolanus.

THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY

ASTOR, LENOX AND
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS.

Hiravelet in Vol:6.P.347.

GVander Gucht Scul

Men. What then?'Fore me, this fellow fpeaks.. What then? what then?

2 Cit. Should by the cormorant belly be reftrain'd, Who is the fink o'th' body,

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Men. Well,

what then?

2 Cit. The former agents, if they did complain, What could the belly answer?

Mem. I will tell you,

If you'll bestow a fmall (of what you have little) Patience, a while; you'll hear the belly's answer.. 2 Cit. Y'are long about it..

Men. Note me this, good friend;
Your most grave belly was deliberate,

Not rafh, like his accufers; and thus answer'd;
True is it, my incorporate friends, quoth he,
That I receive the general food at first,
Which you do live upon; and fit it is,
Because I am the ftore-house and the shop
Of the whole body. But, if you do remember,
I fend it through the rivers of your blood,
Even to the court, the heart; to th' feat o'th' brain;
And, through the cranks and offices of man,
The strongest nerves, and small inferior veins,
From me receive that natural competency,
Whereby they live. And tho' that all at once,
You, my good friends, (this fays the belly) mark me
2 Cit. 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 flow'r of all,

And leave me but the bran.

What fay you to't?

-how apply you this?

2 Cit. It was an answer; Men. The Senators of Rome are this good belly, And you the mutinous members ; for examine Their counfels, and their cares; digeft things rightly, Touching the weal o'th' common; you fhall find,

No publick benefit, which you receive,

But it proceeds, or comes, from them to you, And no way from yourselves. What do you think?

You,

You, the great toe of this affembly!

2 Cit. I the great toe! why, the great toe? Men. For that, being one o'th' lowest, bafeft, peorest, Of this moft wife rebellion, thou goest foremost: Thou rafcal, that art worft in blood to run,

Lead'ft firft, to win fome 'vantage.

But make you ready your ftiff bats and clubs, Rome and her rats are at the point of battle: (3) The one fide must have bale.

Enter Caius Marcius.

Hail, noble Marcius!

Mar. Thanks. What's the matter, you

rogues,

That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,
Make your felves fcabs?

2 Cit. We have ever your good word.

diffentious

Mar. He, that will give good words to thee, will flatter Beneath abhorring. What would you have, ye curs, That like nor peace, nor war? The one affrights you, The other makes you proud. He that trufts to you, Where he fhould find you lions, finds

you hares: Where foxes, geefe; you are no furer, no, Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,

Or hailstone in the fun. Your virtue is,

To make him worthy, whofe offence fubdues him,
And curfe that juftice, did it. Who deferves greatnefs,
Deferves your hate; and your affections are

A fick man's appetite, who defires moft that
Which would encreafe his evil. He, that depends

(3) The one Side muft have Bail.] It must be the vanquisht fide, fure, that could want it; and who were likely to be their Bail? But it is endless to question with Negligence and Stupidity. The Poet, undoubtedly, wrote, as I have restored;

The one fide must have Bale.

i. e. Sorrow, Misfortune, muft have the worft of it, be discomfited. I have reftored this Word in fome other Paffages of our Author; where the Editors feemed not to be aware of any fuch Word in our Language,

Upon

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