Shout censure at me, the cur-crowd who crouched,
Ere that a woman's hate and a boy's pride
Smote me, the new Abimelech, so sore;
They'd hush me, like a garrulous greybeard, chaired
At the hearth-corner out of harm; they'd hush
My voice—the valorous vermin! What say they?
"That's a brave fellow; but he's vengeance proud;
Loves not the common people!" Humph! I stand
As MARCIUS would not, in the market-place,
And show my wounds to the people. Is that pride?