PATRICIAN.
This man has marred his fortune.
MENENIUS.
His nature is too noble for the world.
He would not flatter Neptune for his trident
Or Jove for’s power to thunder. His heart’s his mouth;
What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent,
And, being angry, does forget that ever
He heard the name of death.
[A noise within.]
Here’s goodly work.
PATRICIAN.
I would they were abed!
MENENIUS.
I would they were in Tiber! What the vengeance,
Could he not speak ’em fair?
Enter Brutus and Sicinius with the rabble again.
SICINIUS.
Where is this viper
That would depopulate the city and
Be every man himself?
MENENIUS.
You worthy tribunes—
SICINIUS.
He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock
With rigorous hands. He hath resisted law,
And therefore law shall scorn him further trial
Than the severity of the public power
Which he so sets at naught.