Men. Well, no more.

Cor. How! no more?

As for my country I have shed my blood,
Not fearing outward force; so shall my lungs
Coin words till their decay, against those meazels,
Which we disdain should tetter us, yet sought
The very way to catch them.

Bru. You speak o' the people as if you were a god
To punish; not a man of their infirmity.

Sic. 'Twere well we let the people know't.
Men. What, what? His choler?

Cor. Choler!

Were I as patient as the midnight sleep,
By Jove, 'twould be my mind!

Sic. It is a mind

That shall remain a poison where it is,
Not poison any further.

Cor. Shall remain !

Hear you this triton of the minnows? Mark you

His absolute shall?

O good, but most unwise patricians, why

You grave, but reckless senators, have you thus
Given Hydra here to choose an officer,
And such a one as he who puts his shall,

His popular shall, against a graver bench
Than ever frowned in Greece? By Jove himself
It makes the consuls base! And my soul aches
To know, when two authorities are up,

Neither supreme, how soon confusion
May enter twixt the gap of both, and take

The one by the other.

Men. Well, on to the market place.

Cor. Whoever gave that counsel to give forth The corn o' the storehouse gratis, as 'twas used Sometime in Greece,

Men. Well, well, no more of that.

Cor. Though there the people had more absolute power, I say, they nourished disobedience, fed

The ruin of the state.

Bru. Why shall the people give One that speaks thus, their voice?

Cor. I'll give my reasons,

More worthier than their voices. They know the corn Was not our recompense ;-let deeds express

What's like to be their words :-"We did request it;
We are the greater poll, and in true fear

They gave us our demands:"-Thus we debase
The nature of our seats, and make the rabble
Call our cares fears: which will in time
Break ope the locks o' the senate, and bring in
The crows to peck the eagles.

Men. Come, enough.

Bru. Enough, with over measure.

Sic. He has spoken like a traitor, and shall answer As traitors do.

Cor. Thou wretch! Despite o'erwhelm thee!

What should the people do with these bold tribunes ; On whom depending, their obedience fails

To the greater bench: In a rebellion,

When what's not meet, but what must be, was law,
Then were they chosen; in a better hour,

Let what is meet be said, it must be meet,

And throw their power i' the dust.

Bru. Manifest treason!

Sic. We charge you that you have contrived to take From Rome all seasoned office, and to wind

Yourself into a power tyrannical;

For which you are a traitor to the people.
Cor. How! traitor?

Men. Nay; temperately: your promise.

Cor. Call me their traitor!-Thou injurious tribune! Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths,

In thy hands clutch'd as many millions, in
Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say,
Thou liest, unto thee, with a voice as free
As I do pray the gods.

Sic. Peace!

We need not put new matter to his charge:
What you have seen him do and heard him speak,
Deserves the extremest death.

Bru. But since he hath served well for Rome,-
Cor. What do you prate of service?

Bru. I talk of that, that know it.

Cor. You?

Men. Is this the promise that you made your mother?
Cor. I'll know no further:

Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death,
Vagabond exile, flaying, pent to linger
But with a grain a day, I would not buy
Their mercy at the price of one fair word,
Nor check my courage for what they can give,
To have 't with saying. "Good morrow."

Bru. For that he has,

(As much as in him lies), from time to time,
Envied against the people, seeking means
To pluck away their power; as now at last
Given hostile strokes, and that not in the presence
Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers
That do distribute it. In the name o' the people,
And in the power of us, the tribunes, we,
Even from this instant, banish him our city;
In peril of precipitation

From off the rock Tarpeian, never more

To enter our Rome gates; i' the people's name,

I

say it shall be so.

Men. Hear me, my masters and my common friends ;

Bru. There's no more to be said, but he is banished,

As enemy to the people and his country:

It shall be so.

Cor. You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reck o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize

As the dead carcases of unburied men

That do corrupt my air, I banish you;
And here remain with your uncertainty !
Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts!
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,
Fan you into despair! Have the power still
To banish your defenders; till, at length,
Your ignorance (which finds not till it feels),
Making not reservation of yourselves,
(Still your own foes), deliver you,
As most abated captives, to some nation
That won you without blows! Despising,

For you, the city, thus I turn my back:
There is a world elsewhere.

SHAKESPERE.

DOUGLAS.

GLENALVON, NORVAL, etc.

Glen. His port I love: he's in a proper mood [Aside. To chide the thunder if at him it roared. Has Norval seen the troops?

Norv. The setting sun

With yellow radiance lightened all the vale,
And as the warriors moved, each polished helm,
Corslet or spear, glanced back his gilded beams.
The hill they climbed, and, halting at its top,
Of more than mortal size, towering they seemed
A host angelic, clad in burning arms.

Glen. Thou talk'st it well; no leader of our host,
In sounds more lofty, talks of glorious war.

Norv. If I should e'er acquire a leader's name
My speech will be less ardent. Novelty

Now prompts my tongue, and youthful admiration
Vents itself freely; since no part is mine

Of praise pertaining to the great in arms.

Glen. You wrong yourself, brave sir, your martial deeds Have ranked you with the great. But mark me, Norval; Lord Randolph's favour now exalts your youth

Above his veterans of famous service.

Let me, who know these soldiers, counsel you.
Give them all honour: seem not to command,
Else they will hardly brook your late-sprung power,
Which nor alliance props nor birth adorns.

Norv. Sir, I have been accustomed all my days
To hear and speak the plain and simple truth;
And though I have been told that there are men
Who borrow friendship's tongue to speak their scorn,
Yet in such language I am little skilled;
Therefore I thank Glenalvon for his counsel,
Although it sounded harshly. Why remind
Me of my birth obscure? Why slur my power
With such contemptuous terms?

Glen. I did not mean

To gall your pride, which now I see is great.
Norv. My pride!

Glen. Suppress it as you wish to prosper;
Your pride's excessive. Yet, for Randolph's sake,
I will not leave you to its rash direction.

If thus you swell, and frown at high-born men,
Will high-born men endure a shepherd's scorn?
Norv. A shepherd's scorn!

Glen. Yes, if you presume

To bend on soldiers those disdainful eyes
As if you took the measure of their minds,
And said in secret, You're no match for me,

What will become of you a?

Norv. Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self?
Glen. Ha! dost thou threaten me?

Norv. Didst thou not hear?

Glen. Unwillingly I did; a nobler foe

Had not been questioned thus; but such as thee—
Norv. Whom dost thou think me?

Glen. Norval.

Norv. So I am

And who is Norval in Glenalvon's eyes?

Glen. A peasant's son, a wandering beggar boy; At best no more, even if he speaks the truth.

Norv. False as thou art, dost thou suspect my truth?
Glen. Thy truth; thou'rt all a lie; and false as hell
Is the vain glorious tale thou told'st to Randolph.
Norv. If I were chained, unarmed, or bedrid old,
Perhaps I should revile; but as I am,

I have no tongue to rail. The humble Norval
Is of a race who strive not but with deeds.

Did I not fear to freeze thy shallow valour,

And make thee sink too soon beneath my sword,

I'd tell thee-what thou art. I know thee well.

Glen. Dost thou not know Glenalvon, born to command Ten thousand slaves like thee?

Norv. Villain, no more!

Draw and defend thy life. I did design

To have defied thee in another cause;

But heaven accelerates its vengeance on thee.

Now for my own and Lady Randolph's wrongs.