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At home, upon my brother's guard, even there,
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Against the hospitable canon, would I
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Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to the city;
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Learn how 'tis held; and what they are that must
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Be hostages for Rome.
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First Soldier:
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Will not you go?
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AUFIDIUS:
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I am attended at the cypress grove: I pray you--
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'Tis south the city mills--bring me word thither
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How the world goes, that to the pace of it
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I may spur on my journey.
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First Soldier:
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I shall, sir.
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MENENIUS:
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The augurer tells me we shall have news to-night.
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BRUTUS:
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Good or bad?
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MENENIUS:
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Not according to the prayer of the people, for they
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love not Marcius.
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SICINIUS:
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Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.
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MENENIUS:
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Pray you, who does the wolf love?
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SICINIUS:
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The lamb.
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MENENIUS:
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Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the
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noble Marcius.
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BRUTUS:
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He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear.
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MENENIUS:
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He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two
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are old men: tell me one thing that I shall ask you.
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Both:
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Well, sir.
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MENENIUS:
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In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two
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have not in abundance?
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BRUTUS:
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He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all.
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SICINIUS:
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Especially in pride.
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BRUTUS:
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And topping all others in boasting.
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MENENIUS:
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This is strange now: do you two know how you are
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censured here in the city, I mean of us o' the
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right-hand file? do you?
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Both:
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Why, how are we censured?
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MENENIUS:
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Because you talk of pride now,--will you not be angry?
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Both:
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Well, well, sir, well.
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MENENIUS:
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Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of
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occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience:
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give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at
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your pleasures; at the least if you take it as a
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pleasure to you in being so. You blame Marcius for
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being proud?
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BRUTUS:
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We do it not alone, sir.
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MENENIUS:
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I know you can do very little alone; for your helps
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are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous
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single: your abilities are too infant-like for
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doing much alone. You talk of pride: O that you
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could turn your eyes toward the napes of your necks,
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and make but an interior survey of your good selves!
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O that you could!
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BRUTUS:
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What then, sir?
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