Act 4 - Scene 7
A camp, at a small distance from Rome.
Enter AUFIDIUS and his Lieutenant
Do they still fly to the Roman?
I do not know what witchcraft's in him, but
Your soldiers use him as the grace 'fore meat,
Their talk at
table, and their thanks at end;
And you are darken'd in this action, sir,
Even by your own.
I cannot help it now,
Unless, by using means, I lame the foot
Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier,
to my person, than I thought he would
When first I did embrace him: yet his nature
In that's no changeling; and
I must excuse
What cannot be amended.
Yet I wish, sir,
I mean for your particular, you had not
Join'd in commission with him; but either
the action of yourself, or else
To him had left it solely.
I understand thee well; and be thou sure,
when he shall come to his account, he knows not
What I can
urge against him. Although it seems,
And so he thinks, and is no less apparent
To the vulgar eye, that
he bears all things fairly.
And shows good husbandry for the Volscian state,
Fights dragon-like, and does
achieve as soon
As draw his sword; yet he hath left undone
That which shall break his neck or hazard
Whene'er we come to our account.
Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry Rome?
All places yield to him ere he sits down;
And the nobility of Rome are his:
The senators and patricians
love him too:
The tribunes are no soldiers; and their people
Will be as rash in the repeal, as hasty
him thence. I think he'll be to Rome
As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it
By sovereignty of nature.
First he was
A noble servant to them; but he could not
Carry his honours even: whether 'twas pride,
out of daily fortune ever taints
The happy man; whether defect of judgment,
To fail in the disposing of those
Which he was lord of; or whether nature,
Not to be other than one thing, not moving
casque to the cushion, but commanding peace
Even with the same austerity and garb
As he controll'd the
war; but one of these
As he hath spices of them all, not all,
For I dare so far free himmade him fear'd,
hated, and so banish'd: but he has a merit,
To choke it in the utterance. So our virtues
Lie in the interpretation
of the time:
And power, unto itself most commendable,
Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair
what it hath done.
One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail;
Rights by rights falter, strengths by strengths
Come, let's away. When, Caius, Rome is thine,
Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou mine.
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