Cor. Let them pull all about mine ears, present me Death on the wheel, or at wild horses' heels, Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock That the precipitation might down stretch Below the beam of sight, yet will I still Be thus to them.
[Under certain conditions that is heroism, no doubt.]
First Patrician. You do the nobler.
[For the question is of NOBILITY.]
Cor. I muse my mother Does not approve me further. I talk of you. [To Volumnia.] Why did you wish me milder? Would you have me False to my nature? Rather say I play The man I am.
Vol. O sir, sir, sir,
I would have had you put your power well on
Before you had worn it out.
Lesser had been
The thwarting of your dispositions, if
You had not show'd them how you were disposed,
Ere they lacked power to cross you.
* * * * *
[Enter Menenius and Senators.]
Men. Come, come, you have been too rough
Something too rough;
You must return, and mend it.
1 Sen. There's no remedy,
Unless, by not so doing, our good city
Cleave in the midst and perish.