2 Cit. Well,

I'll hear it, Sir-yet you must not think
To fob off our difgraces with a tale:
But, and't please you, deliver.

Men. There was a time, when all the body's members Rebell'd against the belly; thus accus'd it ;

That only, like a gulf, it did remain

I' th' midft o' th' body, idle and unactive,

Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing

Like labour with the reft; where th' other inftruments

Did fee, and hear, devife, inftruct, walk, feel,
And mutually participate, did minifter,

Unto the appetite, and affection common
Of the whole body. The belly anfwer'd-

over again." And nothing is more common than the verb in this fenfe, with our three capital Dramatic poets. To begin, with our own author. Anth. and Cleop.

Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale

Her infinite variety.

Ful. Caf.

Were I a common laugher, or did ufe
To fale with ordinary oaths my love &c.

And, again,

and imitations,

Which out of ufe, and ftaled by other men,
Begin his faion.

So B. Jonfon, in his Every Man in his Humour.

and not content

To ftale himself in all focieties,

He makes my house here common as a mart.

Cynthia's Revels.

I'll go tell all the argument of his play aforehand, and so stale his invention to the auditory, before it come forth.

And fo Beaumont and Fletcher, in their Beggar's Bufb.
But I fhould lofe myself to speak him further,

And ftale, in my relation, the much good

You may be witness of.

Queen of Corinth..

-I'll not fale 'em,

By giving up their characters; but leave you

To make your own difcov'ries.

Wit at feveral weapons...

You fhail not be feen yet, we'll ftale your friend first,

So please but him to ftand for th' anti-mask,

Cit. Well, Sir, what anfwer made the belly? Men. (2) Sir, I fhall tell you. With a kind of fmile, Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus (For, look you, I may make the belly fmile, As well as fpeak) it tauntingly reply'd

To th' difcontented members, th' mutinous parts,,
That envied kis receipt; even fo moft fitly,
As you malign our fenators, for that
They are not fuch as you

2 Cit. Your belly's anfwer-what!"

The kingly crowned head, the vigilant eye,
The counfellor heart, the arm our foldier,
Our feed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter;
With other muniments and petty helps

In this our fabrick, if that they

Men. What then?Fore me, this fellow fpeaks.. What then? what then?

2 Cit. Should by the cormorant belly be reftrain'đ Who is the fink o' th' body,

Men. Well, what then?

2 Cit. The former agents, if they did complain, What could the belly answer?

Men. I will tell you,

If you'll beftow a fmall (of what you have little) Patience, a while; you'll hear the belly's answer.. 2 Cit. Y' are long about it.

Men. Note me this, good friend;
Your most grave belly was deliberate,

Not rafh, like his accufers; and thus anfwer'd;
True is it, my incorporate friends, quoth he,
That I receive the general food at first,
Which you do live upon; and fit it is,
Because I am the fore-houfe, and the fhop
Of the whole body. But, if you do remember,
I fend it through the rivers of your blood,

(2) Sir, I fhall tell you with a kind of smile,

Which ne'er came from the lungs,] Thus all the editors, mot ftupidly, hitherto; as if Menenius were to fmile in telling his flory, tho' the lines, which immediately follow, make it evident that the belly was meant to fmile.

33

Even

Even to the court, the heart; to th' feat o' th' brain;
And, through the cranks and offices of man,
The ftrongest nerves, and fmall inferior veins,
From me receive that natural competency,
Whereby they live. And though that all at once,
You, my good friends, (this fays the belly) mark me
2 Cit. Ay, Sir, well, well.

Men. Though all at once cannot
See what I do deliver out to each,

Yet I can make my audit up, that all
From me do back receive the flow'r of all,
And leave me but the bran. What fay you to't?
2 Cit. It was an answer;-how apply you this?
Men. The fenators of Rome are this good belly,
And you the mutinous members; for examine
Their counfels, and their cares; digeft things rightly,
Touching the weal o' th' common; you shall find,
No publick benefit, which you receive,

But it proceeds, or comes, from them to you,
And no way from yourselves. What do you think?
You, the great toe of this affembly!→→

z Cit. I the great toe! why, the great toe?
Men. For that, being one o' th' lowest, baseft, poorest,
Of this moft wife rebellion, thou goeft foremost:
Thou rascal, that are worst in blood to run.
Lead'ft first, to win fome vantage.-

But make you ready your ftiff bats and clubs,
Rome and her rats are at the point of battle:
(3) The one fide must have bale.

Enter

(3) The one fide muft bave bail. ]. It must be the vanquisht fide, fure, that could want it; and who were likely to be their bail? but it is endlefs to question with negligence and ftupidity. The poet, undoubtedly wrote, as I have reftor'd;

The one fide muft have bale.

ie. Sorrow, misfortune, must have the worst of it, be discomfited. I have restor'd this word in fome other paffages of our author; and we meet with it in a play, attributed to him, call'd Lotrine :

Yea, with thefe eyes thou haft feen her, and therefore 'pull them out, for they will work thy bale. Mr. Rowe, indeed, in his editions of our poet, has erroneously printed ail too in this paffage; but in the old quarte which I have of Locrine printed

Enter Caius Marcius.

Hail, noble Marcius!

[rogues,

Mar. Thanks. What's the matter, you diffentions That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion, Make yourfelves fcabs?

2 Cit. We have ever your good word.

Mar. He, that will give good words to thee, will flatter Beneath abhorring. What would you have, ye curs, That like nor peace, nor war? The one affrights you, The other makes you proud. He that trufts to you, Where he should find you lions, finds you hares: Where foxes, geefe: You are no furer, no, Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,

Or hailstone in the fun. Your virtue is,

To make him worthy, whofe offence fubdues him,
And curfe that juftice, did it. Who deserves greatness,
Deferves your hate; and your affections are

A fick man's appetite, who defires most that
Which would increafe his evil. He, that depends
Upon your favours, fwims with fins of lead,

And hews down oaks with rufhes. Hang ye truft ye!
With every minute you do change a mind,

printed in 1595, we find the word fpelt as it ought. And it was a term familiar both with authors prior in time, and contemporaries with Shakespeare.

and eke her fingirs long and male

She wrong full oft, and bade God on her rue,

And with the death to doe bote on her bale: &c.

Chaucer's Troil, and Crefeide. Book IV. verse 738.

And the black holme, that loves the wat'ry vale,

And the sweet cyprefs, fign of deadly bale.

And again,

Spenfer's Tranflation of Virgil's Guat.

Said he, what have I wretch deferv'd, that thus

Into this bitter bale I am out caft.

Thus greatest blifs is prone to greatest bale.

Idem ibid.

First Chorus of Hercules Oetus from Seneca; printed in 15830

And leaft my foe, falfe Promos here,

Do interrupt my tale;

Grant, gracious King, that, uncontroul'd,

I may report my bale.

Promos and Caffandra, (a Play,) printed in 1578.

And

And call him noble, that was now your hate;
Him vile, that was your garland.
That in the feveral places of the city

What's the matter,

You cry against the noble Senate, who

(Under the gods) keep you in awe, which elfe
Would feed on one another? what's their feeking?
Men. For corn at their own rates, whereof, they say,
The city is well stor❜d.

Mar. Hang 'em: they fay!

They'll fit by th' fire, and prefume to know
What's done i' th' capitol; who's like to rife;

Who thrives, and who declines: fide factions, and giveout
Conjectural marriages; making parties ftrong,
And feebling fuch, as ftand not in their liking,
Below their cobbled fhooes. They fay, there's grain
enough!

Would the nobility lay afide their ruth,
And let me ufe my fword, I'd make a quarry
With thousands of thefe quarter'd flaves, as high
As I could pitch my lancé.

Men. Nay, thefe are almost thoroughly perfuaded : For though abundantly they lack difcretion,

Yet are they pairing cowardly.

What fays the other troop?

But, I beseech you,

Mar. They are diffolv'd; hang 'em,

They faid they were an hungry, figh'd forth proverbs;
That hunger broke ftone walls-that dogs must eat,-

That meat was made for mouths that the gods fent not
Corn for the rich men only-With thefe fhreds

They vented their complainings: which being anfwer'd,
And a petition granted them, a ftrange one,
To break the heart of generofity,

And make bold power look pale; they threw their caps
As they would hang them on the horns o' th' moon,
Shouting their emulation.

Men. What is granted them?

Mar. Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wifdoms, Of their own choice. One's Junius Brutus, Sicinius Velutus, and I know not-s' death, The rabble fhould have first unroof'd the city,

Ere