Bru.
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
It shower and thunder with their caps and shouts:
I never saw the like; 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
The 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 a Roman Officer.

Bru.
What's the matter?

Offi.
You're sent for to the Capitol: 'ts thought
That Marcius shall be consul:

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

Sic.
Have with you. [Exeunt.

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