Have you not known

The worthiest men have done't?

COR.

What must I say?

»I pray, sir« – Plague upon't! I cannot bring

My tongue to such a pace. »Look, sir, my wounds!

I got them in my country's service, when

Some certain of your brethren roar'd, and ran

From th' noise of our own drums.«

MEN.

O me, the gods!

You must not speak of that. You must desire them

To think upon you.

COR.

Think upon me? Hang 'em,

I would they would forget me, like the virtues

Which our divines lose by 'em.

MEN.

You'll mar all.

I'll leave you. Pray you speak to 'em, I pray you,

In wholesome manner.

 

Exit.

Enter three of the Citizens.

 

COR.

Bid them wash their faces,

And keep their teeth clean. So, here comes a brace. –

You know the cause, sir, of my standing here.

3. CIT. We do, sir, tell us what hath brought you to't.

COR. Mine own desert.

2. CIT. Your own desert!

COR. Ay, [not] mine own desire.

3. CIT. How, not your own desire?

COR. No, sir, 'twas never my desire yet to trouble the poor with begging.

3. CIT. You must think, if we give you any thing, we hope to gain by you.

COR. Well then, I pray, your price a' th' consulship?

1. CIT. The price is, to ask it kindly.

COR. Kindly, sir, I pray let me ha't. I have wounds to show you, which shall be yours in private. Your good voice, sir, what say you?

2. CIT. You shall ha't, worthy sir.

COR. A match, sir. There's in all two worthy voices begg'd.