And, being angry, does forget that ever
He heard the name of death. A noise within.
Here's goodly work!
Patri. I would they were a-bed! 260
Men. I would they were in Tiber! What the vengeance!
Could he not speak 'em fair?
Enter Brutus and Sicinius with the rabble again.
Sic. Where is this viper
That would depopulate the city and
Be every man himself?
Men. You worthy tribunes,— 264
Sic. He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock
With rigorous hands: he hath resisted law,
And therefore law shall scorn him further trial
Than the severity of the public power, 268
Which he so sets at nought.
1. Cit. He shall well know
The noble tribunes are the people's mouths,
And we their hands.
All. He shall, sure on 't.
Men. Sir, sir,—
Sic. Peace! 272
Men. Do not cry havoc, where you should but hunt
With modest warrant.
Sic. Sir, how comes 't that you
Have holp to make this rescue?
Men. Hear me speak:
As I do know the consul's worthiness, 276
So can I name his faults.
Sic. Consul! what consul?
258 does: he does
262 speak 'em fair: conciliate them
268 severity: i.e. exposure to severity
273 cry havoc: give the signal for indiscriminate slaughter
274 With . . . warrant: as moderation warrants
