Enter Menenius and Sicinius.
Mene. See you yon'd Coin a'th Capitol, yon'd corner stone? Sicin. Why what of that? Mene. If it be possible for you to displace it with your little finger, there is some hope the Ladies of Rome, especially his Mother, may preuaile with him. But I say, there is no hope in't, our throats are sentenc'd, and stay vppon execution
Sicin. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter the condition of a man
Mene. There is differency between a Grub & a Butterfly, yet your Butterfly was a Grub: this Martius, is growne from Man to Dragon: He has wings, hee's more then a creeping thing
Sicin. He lou'd his Mother deerely
Mene. So did he mee: and he no more remembers his Mother now, then an eight yeare old horse. The tartnesse of his face, sowres ripe Grapes. When he walks, he moues like an Engine, and the ground shrinkes before his Treading. He is able to pierce a Corslet with his eye: Talkes like a knell, and his hum is a Battery. He sits in his State, as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids bee done, is finisht with his bidding. He wants nothing of a God but Eternity, and a Heauen to Throne in
Sicin. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly
Mene. I paint him in the Character. Mark what mercy his Mother shall bring from him: There is no more mercy in him, then there is milke in a male-Tyger, that shall our poore City finde: and all this is long of you
Sicin. The Gods be good vnto vs
Mene. No, in such a case the Gods will not bee good vnto vs. When we banish'd him, we respected not them: and he returning to breake our necks, they respect not vs. Enter a Messenger.
Mes. Sir, if you'ld saue your life, flye to your House, The Plebeians haue got your Fellow Tribune, And hale him vp and downe; all swearing, if The Romane Ladies bring not comfort home They'l giue him death by Inches. Enter another Messenger.
Sicin. What's the Newes? Mess. Good Newes, good newes, the Ladies haue preuayl'd. The Volcians are dislodg'd, and Martius gone: A merrier day did neuer yet greet Rome, No, not th' expulsion of the Tarquins
Sicin. Friend, art thou certaine this is true? Is't most certaine
Mes. As certaine as I know the Sun is fire: Where haue you lurk'd that you make doubt of it: Ne're through an Arch so hurried the blowne Tide, As the recomforted through th' gates. Why harke you:
Trumpets, Hoboyes, Drums beate, altogether.
The Trumpets, Sack-buts, Psalteries, and Fifes, Tabors, and Symboles, and the showting Romans, Make the Sunne dance. Hearke you.
A shout within
Mene. This is good Newes: I will go meete the Ladies. This Volumnia, Is worth of Consuls, Senators, Patricians, A City full: Of Tribunes such as you, A Sea and Land full: you haue pray'd well to day: This Morning, for ten thousand of your throates, I'de not haue giuen a doit. Harke, how they ioy.
Sound still with the Shouts.
Sicin. First, the Gods blesse you for your tydings: Next, accept my thankefulnesse
Mess. Sir, we haue all great cause to giue great thanks
Sicin. They are neere the City
Mes. Almost at point to enter
Sicin. Wee'l meet them, and helpe the ioy.
Enter two Senators, with Ladies, passing ouer the Stage, with other Lords.
Sena. Behold our Patronnesse, the life of Rome: Call all your Tribes together, praise the Gods, And make triumphant fires, strew Flowers before them: Vnshoot the noise that Banish'd Martius; Repeale him, with the welcome of his Mother: Cry welcome Ladies, welcome