“Trust ye? Hang ye!”
_Ib._ sc. 10. Speech of Aufidius:—
... “Mine emulation
Hath not that honour in’t, it had; for where
I thought to crush him in an equal force,
True sword to sword; I’ll potch at him some way
Or wrath, or craft may get him.—
... My valour (poison’d
With only suffering stain by him) for him
Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep, nor sanctuary,
Being naked, sick, nor fane, nor capitol,
The prayers of priests, nor times of sacrifices,
Embankments all of fury, shall lift up
Their rotten privilege and custom ’gainst
My hate to Marcius.”
I have such deep faith in Shakespeare’s heart-lore, that I take for
granted that this is in nature, and not as a mere anomaly; although I
cannot in myself discover any germ of possible feeling, which could wax
and unfold itself into such sentiment as this. However, I perceive that in
this speech is meant to be contained a prevention of shock at the
after-change in Aufidius’s character.