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Him vile that was your garland. What's the matter,

That in these several places of the city

You cry against the noble senate, who,

Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else

Would feed on one another? What's their seeking?

Men. For corn at their own rates; whereof they say

The city is well stor'd.

Mar. Hang 'em! They say!

They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know

What's done i' the Capitol; who's like to rise,

Who thrives, and who declines; side factions, and give out

Conjectural marriages; making parties strong,

And feebling such as stand not in their liking

Below their cobbled shoes. They say there's grain enough!

Would the nobility lay aside their ruth,

And let me use my sword, I'd make a quarry

With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high

As I could pick my lance.

Men. Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded;

For though abundantly they lack discretion,

Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you,

What says the other troop?

Mar. They are dissolv'd: hang em!

They said they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth proverbs:

That hunger broke stone walls; that dogs must eat;

That meat was made for mouths; that the gods sent not

Corn for the rich men only. With these shreds

They vented their complainings; which being answer'd,

 198 like: likely

199 side: espouse

200 parties: favored factions

201 feebling: reducing

204 quarry: pile of dead

206 pick: pitch

209 passing: surpassingly

215 vented: gave vent to

answer'd: satisfied

