SCENE I. Rome. A street. [Enter a company of mutinous citizens, with staves, clubs, and other weapons.] FIRST CITIZEN. Before we proceed any further, hear me speak. ALL. Speak, speak. FIRST CITIZEN. You are all resolved rather to die than to famish? ALL. Resolved, resolved. FIRST CITIZEN. First, you know Caius Marcius is chief enemy to the people. ALL. We know’t, we know’t. FIRST CITIZEN. Let us kill him, and we’ll have corn at our own price. Is’t a verdict? ALL. No more talking on’t; let it be done: away, away! SECOND CITIZEN. One word, good citizens. FIRST CITIZEN. We are accounted poor citizens; the patricians good. What authority surfeits on would relieve us; if they would yield us but the superfluity, while it were wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely; but they think we are too dear: the leanness that afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an inventory to particularize their abundance; our sufferance is a gain to them.
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