MARTIUS.
They are dissolved. Hang ’em!
They said they were an-hungry, sighed forth proverbs
That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat,
That meat was made for mouths, that the gods sent not
Corn for the rich men only. With these shreds
They vented their complainings, which being answered
And a petition granted them—a strange one,
To break the heart of generosity
And make bold power look pale—they threw their caps
As they would hang them on the horns o’ th’ moon,
Shouting their emulation.
MENENIUS.
What is granted them?
MARTIUS.
Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms,
Of their own choice. One’s Junius Brutus,
Sicinius Velutus, and I know not. ’Sdeath!
The rabble should have first unroofed the city
Ere so prevailed with me. It will in time
Win upon power and throw forth greater themes
For insurrection’s arguing.
MENENIUS.
This is strange.
MARTIUS.
Go get you home, you fragments.
Enter a Messenger hastily.
MESSENGER.
Where’s Caius Martius?
MARTIUS.
Here. What’s the matter?
MESSENGER.
The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms.
MARTIUS.
I am glad on’t. Then we shall ha’ means to vent
Our musty superfluity.