&plquo;Bru.
&plquo;All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights
&plquo;Are spectacled to see him. Your pratling nurse

&plquo;Into a rapture lets her baby cry,
&plquo;While she chats him: the kitchen maukin pins
&plquo;Her richest † ^notelockram 'bout her reechy neck,
&plquo;Clambring the walls to eye him; stalls, bulks, windows,
&plquo;Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges hors'd
&plquo;With variable complexions; all agreeing
&plquo;In earnestness to see him: seld-shown Flamins
&plquo;Do press among the popular throngs, and puff
&plquo;To win a vulgar station; our veil'd dames
&plquo;Commit the war of white and damask in
&plquo;Their nicely gawded cheeks, to th' wanton spoil
&plquo;Of Phœbus' burning kisses; such a pother,
&plquo;As if that whatsoever God who leads him,
&plquo;Were slily crept into his human powers,
&plquo;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.

Sic.
Doubt not,
The commoners, for whom we stand, but they
Upon their ancient malice, will forget
(With the least cause) these his new honours; which
That he will give, make I as little question
As he is proud to do't.

Bru.
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.
'Tis right.

Bru.
It was his word: oh he would miss it, rather
Than carry it, but by the suit o'th' gentry,
And the desire o'th' nobles.

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.

Bru.
So it must fall out
To him, or our authorities. For an end,
We must suggest the people, in what hatred
He still hath held them; that to's power he would
Have made them mules, silenc'd their pleaders, and
^{d note}Disproperty'd their freedoms: holding them,
In human action and capacity,
Of no more soul nor fitness for the world,
Than camels in their war, who have their provender
Only for bearing burthens, and sore blows
For sinking under them.

Sic.
This, as you say, suggested
At some time, when his soaring insolence
Shall teach the people, which (time shall not want,
If he be put upon't, and that's as easie,
As to set dogs on sheep) will be the fire
To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze
Shall darken him for ever.

Enter a 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 and eyes for th' time,
But hearts for the event.

Sic.
Have with you. Exeunt.

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