MENENIUS.
I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his mother shall bring from him. There is no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male tiger. That shall our poor city find, and all this is long of you.
SICINIUS.
The gods be good unto us.
MENENIUS.
No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us. When we banished him, we respected not them; and he returning to break our necks, they respect not us.
Enter a Messenger.
MESSENGER.
Sir, if you’d save your life, fly to your house.
The plebeians have got your fellow tribune
And hale him up and down, all swearing if
The Roman ladies bring not comfort home,
They’ll give him death by inches.
Enter another Messenger.
SICINIUS.
What’s the news?
SECOND MESSENGER.
Good news, good news! The ladies have prevailed.
The Volscians are dislodged and Martius gone.
A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,
No, not th’ expulsion of the Tarquins.
SICINIUS.
Friend,
Art thou certain this is true? Is’t most certain?
SECOND MESSENGER.
As certain as I know the sun is fire.
Where have you lurked that you make doubt of it?
Ne’er through an arch so hurried the blown tide
As the recomforted through th’ gates. Why, hark you!