Men. Sir, I shall tell you. With a kind of smile,
Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus—
For, look you, I may make the Belly smile
As well as speak—it tauntingly replied
To the discontented Members, the mutinous parts
That envied his receipt: even so most fitly
As you malign our senators, for that
They are not such as you.
1 Cit. Your Belly's answer? What!
The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye,
The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier,
Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter,
With other muniments and petty helps
In this our fabric, if that they——
Men. What then?——
'Fore me this fellow speaks!—what then? what then?
1 Cit. Should by the cormorant Belly be restrained,
Who is the sink o' the body——
Men. Well, what then?
1 Cit. The former agents, if they did complain,
What could the Belly answer?
Men. I will tell you,
If you'll bestow a small—of what you have little—
Patience awhile, you'll hear the Belly's answer.
1 Cit. Ye're long about it.
Men. Note me this, good friend,
Your most grave Belly was deliberate,
Not rash, like his accusers, and thus answered:
'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 storehouse 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 that natural competency
Whereby they live; and though that all at once,
You, my good friends——' This says the Belly, mark me.
1 Cit. Ay, sir; well, well.