* ^noteBru.
All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights
Are spectacled to see him. Your pratling nurse
Into a rapture lets her baby cry,
While she chats him: stalls, bulks, windows,
Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges hors'd
With variable complexions; all agreeing
In earnestness to see him. Our veil'd dames
Commit the war of white and damask, in
Their nicely gawded cheeks, to th' wanton spoil
Of Phœbus' burning kisses; such a pother,
As if that whatsoever God who leads him,
Were slily crept into his human powers,
And gave him graceful posture.

Sic.
On the sudden,
I warrant him consul.

Bru.
Then our office may,
During his power, go sleep.

Sic.
He cannot temp'rately transport his honours,
From where he should begin and end, but will
Lose those he'ath won.

Bru.
In that there's comfort.
I heard him swear,
Were he to stand for consul, never would he
Appear i'th' market-place, nor on him put
* ^noteThe napless vesture of humility,
Nor shewing, as the manner is, his wounds
To th' people, beg their stinking breaths.

Sic.
I wish no better,
Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it
In execution.

Bru.
'Tis most like he will.

Sic.
It shall be to him then, as our good wills;
A sure destruction. Enter the Messenger.

Bru.
What's the matter?

Mes.
You're sent for to the Capitol: 'tis thought
That Martius shall be consul: I have seen
The dumb men throng to see him, and the blind
To hear him speak; the matrons flung their gloves,
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs,
Upon him as he pass'd; the nobles bended
As to Jove's statue, and the commons made
A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts:
I never saw the like.

Bru.
Let's to the Capitol,
And carry with us ears for th' time,
But hearts for the event.

Sic.
Have with you. [A flourish.] [Exeunt.

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