Scene 1.1.7
“Was ever a
man as proud as this Marcius?” Sicinius whispered out in a spiteful manner. He
was a tall man but lanky in frame with his thin mustache that met up with his
side burns but sadly the top piece was thinning due to inherited defaults. He
was dressed in the dark blue frock with the vertical yellow stripes that sailed
across his waist. He called it the fashion of strangulation by the Nobles on
the Commoner. His close associate and conspirator, Brutus was in the red shaded
frock that displayed his emotions of the day.
“He has no equal.” Brutus replied.
“When we were chosen Consuls for the Commoners...” Sicinius
ignored the man’s reply, and tried to raise his own limelight but Brutus was
past listening.
“Behold his lips and eyes.” Brutus continued on.
“Nay,” Sicinius retorted back when he took it that
Brutus meant Marcius and not themselves. “His taunts...”
“He will not spare even the Gods.” Brutus who was
highly emotional invoked on the Godly personalities. “The present wars devour
his soul. He has grown too proud to be so …valiant.”
“Such a nature, tickled with the victories, disdains
the shadow which he treads on at noon. I do wonder his insolence can be
commanded under Cominius.” Sicinius picked his words to tackle on the issue of
insubordination in the military command.
“Neither Fame, at which he aims, in whom already
he’s well graced cannot be held nor more attained than by a place below the
first.” Brutus gave his view on the ego standing of the man. “If he miscarries,
it shall be the General’s fault, but if he does perform; then the giddy censure
will then cry out of Marcius if he had done the honor.”
HAPPY FATHER"S DAY... pardon me, belated one....
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