made new head? He had, my lord; and that it was which caused Our swifter composition. So then the Volsces stand but as at first, Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make road. Upon's again. They are worn, lord consul, so, That we shall hardly in our ages see Their banners wave again. Saw you Aufidius? On safe-guard he came to me; and did curse Against the Volsces, for they had so vilely Yielded the town: he is retired to Antium. Spoke he of me? He did, my lord. How? what? How often he had met you, sword to sword; That of all things upon the earth he hated Your person most, that he would pawn his fortunes To hopeless restitution, so he might Be call'd your vanquisher. At Antium lives he? At Antium. I wish I had a cause to seek him there, To oppose his hatred fully. Welcome home. Behold, these are the tribunes of the people, The tongues o' the common mouth: I do despise them; For they do prank them in authority, Against all noble sufferance. Pass no further. Ha! what is that? It will be dangerous to go on: no further. What makes this change? The matter? Hath he not pass'd the noble and the common? Cominius, no. Have I had children's voices? Tribunes, give way; he shall to the market-place. The people are incensed against him. Stop, Or all will fall in broil. Are these your herd? Must these have voices, that can yield them now And straight disclaim their tongues? What are your offices? You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth? Have you not set them on? Be calm, be calm. It is a purposed thing, and grows by plot, To curb the will of the nobility: Suffer't, and live with such as cannot rule Nor ever will be ruled. Call't not a plot: The people cry you mock'd them, and of late, When corn was given them gratis, you repined; Scandal'd the suppliants for the people, call'd them Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness. Why, this was known before. Not to them all. Have you inform'd them sithence? How! I inform them! You are like to do such business. Not unlike, Each way, to better yours. Why then should I be consul? By yond clouds, Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me Your fellow tribune. You show too much of that For which the people stir: if you will pass To where you