BRUTUS.
Cominius, no.
CORIOLANUS.
Have I had children’s voices?
FIRST SENATOR.
Tribunes, give way. He shall to the marketplace.
BRUTUS.
The people are incensed against him.
SICINIUS.
Stop,
Or all will fall in broil.
CORIOLANUS.
Are these your herd?
Must these have voices, that can yield them now
And straight disclaim their tongues? What are your offices?
You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth?
Have you not set them on?
MENENIUS.
Be calm, be calm.
CORIOLANUS.
It is a purposed thing, and grows by plot,
To curb the will of the nobility.
Suffer’t, and live with such as cannot rule
Nor ever will be ruled.
BRUTUS.
Call’t not a plot.
The people cry you mocked them; and, of late,
When corn was given them gratis, you repined,
Scandaled the suppliants for the people, called them
Timepleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness.
CORIOLANUS.
Why, this was known before.