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1 Sol. Following the fliers at the very heels, With them he enters: who, upon the sudden, Clapp'd-to their gates; he is himself alone, To answer all the city.

Lart. O noble fellow!

Who, sensible, outdares his senseless sword, And, when it bows,t stands up! Thou art left, Marcius:

A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art,
Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier
Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible
Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks, and
The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds,
Thou mad'st thine enemies, shake, as if the
Were feverous and did tremble. [world
Re-enter MARCIUS bleeding, assaulted by the
enemy.

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Convenient numbers to make good the city; Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will To help Cominius.

Lurt. Worthy Sir, thou bleed'st; Thy exercise hath been too violent for A second course of fight.

Mar. Sir, praise me not:

[haste

[well.

My work hath yet not warm'd me: Fare you
The blood I drop is rather physical
Than dangerous to me: To Aufidius thus
I will appear, and fight.

Lart. Now the fair goddess, Fortune, Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms [man, Misguide thy opposer's swords! Bold gentleProsperity be thy page!

Mar. Thy friend no less

Than those she placeth highest! So farewell. Lart. Thou worthiest Marcius![Exit MARCIUS. Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place; Call thither all the officers of the town, Where they shall know our mind. Away. [Exeunt.

--scene vi.—Near the Camp of COMINIUS. Enter COMINIUS and forces, retreating. Com. Breathe you, my friends; well fought, we are come off

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Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, Sirs, We shall be charg'd again. Whiles we have struck, [heard By interims, and conveying gusts, we have The charges of our friends:-The Roman gods, Lead their successes as we wish our own; That both our powers, with smiling fronts encountering,

Enter a MESSENGER.

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Mar. Come I too late?

Com. Ay, if you come not in the blood of But mantled in your own. [others,

Mar. O! let me clip you

In arms as sound, as when I woo'd; in heart As merry, as when our nuptial day was done, And tapers burn'd to bedward.

Com. Flower of warriors, How is't with Titus Lartius?

Mar. As with a man busied about decrees: Condemning some to death, and some to exile; Ransoming him, or pitying, threat'ning the other;

Holding Corioli in the name of Rome,
Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash,
To let him slip at will.

Com. Where is that slave,

[trenches?

Which told me they had beat you to your Where is he? Call him hither.

Mar. Let him alone,

[men,

He did inform the truth: But for our gentleThe common file, (A plague!-Tribunes for them!) [budge

The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat, as they did From rascals worse than they.

Com. But how prevail'd you?

Mar. Will the time serve to tell? I do not

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* Expend.

ན་ ན་

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Mar. I do beseech you,

VOWS

By all the battles wherein we have fought,
By the blood we have shed together, by the
[rectly
We have made to endure friends, that you di-
Set me against Aufidius, and his Antiates:
And that you not delay the present; but,
Filling the air with swords advanc'd, and darts,
We prove this very hour.

Com. Though I could wish

You were conducted to a gentle bath,
And balms applied to you, yet dare I never
Deny your asking; take your choice of those
That best can aid your action.

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And follow Marcius.

[They all shout, and wave their swords; take
him up in their arms, and cast up their caps.
O me, alone! Make you a sword of me?
If these shows be not outward, which of you
But is four Volces? None of you but is
Able to bear against the great Aufidius
A shield as hard as his. A certain number,
Though thanks to all, must I select: the rest
Shall bear the business in some other fight,
As cause will be obey'd. Please you to march;
And four shall quickly draw out my command,
Which men are best inclin'd.

Com. March on, my fellows:
Make good this ostentation, and you shall
Divide in all with us.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VII.-The Gates of Corioli. TITUS LARTIUS, having set a guard upon Corioli, going with a drum and trumpet toward CoMINIUS and CAIUS MARCIUS, enters with a LIEUTENANT, a party of soldiers, and a scout. Lart. So, let the ports be guarded: keep your duties,

As I have set them down. If I do send, despatch
Those centuries to our aid; the rest will serve
For a short holding: If we lose the field,
We cannot keep the town.

Lieu. Fear not our care, Sir.

us.

Lart. Hence, and shut your gates upon us.Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct [Exeunt. SCENE_VIII.-A field of battle between the Roman and the Volcian Camps.

Alarum. Enter MARCIUS and AUFIDIUS. Mar. I'll fight with none but thee; for I do

hate thee

Worse than a promise-breaker.
Auf. We hate alike;

Not Afric owns a serpent, I abhor
More than thy fame and envy: Fix thy foot.
Mar. Let the first budger¶ die the other's
And the gods doom him after!

* Front. Gates.

[slave,

+ Soldiers of Antium. + Present time. Il Companies of a hundred men. ¶ Stirrer.

Auf. If I fly, Marcius,

Halloo me like a hare.

Mar. Within these three hours, Tullus, Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, And made what work I pleas'd; 'Tis not my blood, [venge, Wherein thou seest me mask'd; for thy reWrench up thy power to the highest. Auf. Wert thou the Hector,

That was the whip* of your bragg'd progeny, Thou should'st not scape me here.

[They fight, and certain Volces come to the aid of AUFIDIUS.

Officious, and not valiant-you have sham'd In your condemned seconds.t [me

[Exeunt fighting, driven in by MARCIUS. SCENE IX.-The Roman camp. Alarum. A Retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter at one side, COMINIUS, and Romans; at the other side, MARCIUS, with his arm in a scarf, and other Romans.

Com. If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's

work,

Thou'lt not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it, Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles; I'the end, admire; where ladies shall be Where great patricians shall attend, and shrug, frighted,

And, gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dull Tribunes,

nours,

That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine ho-
[gods,
Shall say, against their hearts-We thank the
Our Rome hath such a soldier!—

Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast,
Having fully dined before.

Enter TITUS LARTIUS, with his power,§ from the pursuit.

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Before the common distribution, at Your only choice.

Mar. I thank you, general;

But cannot make my heart consent to take A bribe to pay my sword: I do refuse it; And stand upon my common part with those That have beheld the doing.

[A long flourish. They all cry, Marcius! Mar

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cius! cast up their caps and lances: COMI- A Flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, NIUS and LARTIUS stand bare.

Mar. May these same instruments, which

[shall you profane, Neversound more! When drums and trumpets I'the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be [grows Made all of false-fac'd soothing: When steel Soft as the parasite's silk, let him be made An overture for the wars! No more, I say; For that I have not wash'd my nose that bled, Or foil'd some debile wretch,-which, with

out note,

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bloody, with two or three SOLDIERS. Auf. The town is ta'en!

1 Sol. "Twill be delivered back on good con

dition.

Auf. Condition?

beat me;

would, I were a Roman; for I cannot, Being a Volce, be that I am.-Condition! What good condition can a treaty find 'the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius, I have fought with thee; so often hast thou [counter And would'st do so, I think, should we enAs often as we eat.-By the elements, If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, He is mine, or I am his: 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.

1 Sol. He's the devil.
Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle: My val-
our's 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 sacrifice,
Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up
My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it
Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst
At home, upon my brother's guard, even
Against the hospitable canon, would I
there
Wash my fierce hand in his heart. Go you to
the city;

Learn, how 'tis held; and what they are, that
Be hostages for Rome.
[must

1 Sol. Will not you go? Auf. I am attended at the cypress grove: I pray you [ther (Tis south the city mills,) bring me word thiHow the world goes; that to the pace of it I may spur on my journey.

1 Sol. I shall, Sir.

ACT II.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I-Rome.-A Public Place. Enter MENENIUS, SICINIUS, and BRUTUS. Men. The augurer tells me, we shall have news to-night.

Bru. Good, or bad?

Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius.

Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.

Men. Pray you, who does the wolf love?
Sic. The lamb.

Men. Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius.

Bru. He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear.

Men. He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two are old men; tell me one thing that I shall ask you.

Add more by doing his best. Enter into articles.

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Both Trib. Well, Sir.

Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor, that you two have not in abundance?

Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all.

Sic. Especially, in pride.

Bru. And topping all others in boasting. Men. This is strange now: Do you two know how you are censured here in the city, I mean of us o'the right hand file? Do you?

Both Trib. Why, how are we censured? Men. Because you talk of pride now,-Will you not be angry?

Both Trib. Well, well, Sir, well.

Men. Why 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience: give your disposition the reins, and be angry at your pleasures; at the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you, in being so. You blame Marcius for being proud? Bru. We do it not alone, Sir.

Men. I know, you can do very little alone; for your helps are many; or else your actions would grow wondrous single: your abilities are too infant-like, for doing much alone. You talk of pride: O, that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O, that you could!

Bru. What then, Sir?

Men. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates, (alias, fools,) as any in Rome.

Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough too.

Men. I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tybert in't; said to be something imperfect, in favouring the first complaint: hasty, and tinder-like, upon too trivial motion: one that converses more with the buttock of the night, than with the forehead of the morning. What I think, I utter; and spend my malice in my breath: Meeting two such wealst-men as you are, (I cannot call you Lycurguses) if the drink you gave me, touch my palate adversely, I make a crooked face at it. I cannot say, your worships have delivered the matter well, when I find the ass in compound with the major part of your syllables: and though I must be content to bear with those that say you are reverend grave men; yet they lie deadly, that tell, you have good faces. If you see this in the map of my mycrocosm, follows it, that I am known well enough too? What harm can your bisson conspectuities glean out of this character, if be known well enough too?

Bru. Come, Sir, come, we know you well enough.

Men. You know neither me, yourselves, nor any thing. You are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs; you wear out a good wholesome forenoon, in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and a fosset-seller; and then rejourn the controversy of three-pence to a second day of audience. When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you chance to be pinched with the cholic, you make faces like mummers; set up the bloody flag against all patience; and, in roaring for a chamberpot, dismiss the controversy bleeding, the more entangled by your hearing: all the peace you make in their cause, is, calling both the parties knaves: You are a pair of strange ones.

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Bru. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table, than a necessary bencher in the Capitol.

Men. Our very priests must become mockers, if they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging of your beards; and your beards deserve not so honourable a grave, as to stuff a botcher's cushion, or to be entombed in an ass' pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors, since Deucalion; though, perad-, venture, some of the best of them were hereditary hangmen. Good e'en to your worships; more of your conversation would infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians: I will be bold to take my leave of you.

[BRU, and SIC. retire to the back of the Scene. Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and VALERIA, &c. How now, my as fair as noble ladies, (and the moon, were she earthly, no nobler,) whither do you follow your eyes so fast?

approaches; for the love of Juno, let's go. Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius Men. Ha! Marcius coming home?

Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosperous approbation.

thee:-Hoo! Marcius coming home? Men. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank

Two Ladies. Nay, 'tis true.

Vol. Look, here's a letter from him; the state there's one at home for you. hath another, his wife another; and, I think, 1

-A letter for me?
Men. I will make my very house reel to-night:

Vir. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw it.

of seven years' health; in which time I will Men. A letter for me? It gives me an estate make a lip at the physician: the most sovereign prescription in Galen is but empiricutic, and, to this preservative, of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded.

Vir. O, no, no, no.

Vol. O, he is wounded, I thank the gods

for't.

Men. So do I too, if it be not too much:Brings 'a victory in his pocket?-The wounds become him.

third time home with the oaken garland. Vol. On's brows, Menenius: he comes the

Men. Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly? Vol. Titus Lartius writes,--they fought together, but Aufidius got off.

Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant have been so fidiused for all the chests in Cohim that: an he had staid by him, I would not rioli, and the gold that's in them. Is the senate possessed of this?

the senate has letters from the general, wherein Vol. Good ladies, let's go :-Yes, yes, yes: he gives my son the whole name of the war: he hath in this action outdone his former deeds doubly.

Val. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke

of him.

Men. Wondrous? ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing.

Vir. The gods grant them true!
Vol. True? pow, wow.

Men. True? I'll be sworn they are true:

* Fully informed.

Where is he wounded?-God save your good worships! [To the Tribunes, who come forward.] Marcius is coming home: he has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded?

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Vol. I'the shoulder, and i'the left arm: There will be large cicatrices to show the people, when he shall stand for his place. He received in the repulse of Tarquin, seven hurts i'the body.

Men. One in the neck, and two in the thigh,

there's nine that I know.

Vol. He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five wounds upon him.

Men. Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave: [Å Shout, and Flourish.] Hark! the trumpets.

Vol. These are the ushers of Marcius: before him [tears; He carries noise, and behind him he leaves Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie; Which being advanc'd, declines; and then men die.

A Sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter COMINIUS

and TITUS LARTIUS; between them, CORIOLANUS, crowned with an oaken Garland; with Captains, Soldiers, and a Herald.

Her. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight

Within Corioli' gates: where he hath won, With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these In honour follows, Coriolanus:

Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!

[Flourish. All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Corio

lanus !

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You have, I know, petition'd all the gods For my prosperity.

[Kneels.

Vol. Nay, my good soldier, up;
My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and
By deed-achieving honour newly nam'd,
What is it? Coriolanus, must I call thee?
But O, thy wife.

Cor. My gracioust silence, hail! Would'st thou have laugh'd, had I come coffin'd home,

That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah, my dear,
Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear,
And mothers that lack sons.

Men. Now the gods crown thee! Cor. And live you yet?-O my sweet lady, pardon. [To VALERIA. Vol. I know not where to turn:-O welcome home; And welcome, general;-And you are welcome all.

Men. A hundred thousand welcomes: I could weep, [Welcome: And I could laugh; I am light, and heavy: A curse begin at very root of his heart, That is not glad to see thee!-You are three, That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith of men,

We have some old crab-trees here at home, that will not

Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, war-
We call a nettle, but a nettle; and
The faults of fools, but folly.

Com. Ever right.

Cor. Menenius, ever, ever.

Her, Give way there, and go on.

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[riors:

Cor. Your hand, and yours:

[To his Wife and Mother.
Ere in our own house I do shade my head,
The good patricians must be visited;
From whom I have received not only greetings,
But with them change of honours.
Vol. I have lived

To see inherited my very wishes,
And the buildings of my fancy: only there
Is one thing wanting, which I doubt not, but
Our Rome will cast upon thee.

Cor. Know, good mother,

I had rather be their servant in my way,
Than sway with them in theirs.
Com. On, to the Capitol.

[Flourish. Coronets. Exeunt in state, as before. The Tribunes remain. Bru. All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights

Are spectacled to see him: Your pratling nurse
Into a rapture* lets her baby cry,
While she chats him: the kitchen malkint pins
Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks,
Her richest lockram; 'bout her reechy neck.
windows,

Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges hors'd
With variable complexions; all agreeing
In earnestness to see him: seld||-shown fla-
mens¶

Do press among the popular throngs, and puff
To win a vulgar station:** our veil'd dames
Commit the war of white and damask, in
Their nicely-gawded†† cheeks, to the wanton
spoil

Of Phoebus' burning kisses: such a pother,
As if that whatsoever god, who leads him,
Were slyly crept into his human powers,
And gave him graceful posture.

Sic. On the sudden,

I warrant him consul.

Bru. Then our office may, During his power, go sleep.

Sic. He cannot temperately transport his

honours

[will From where he should begin, and end; but Lose those that he hath won.

Bru. In that there's comfort.

Sic. Doubt not, the commoners, for whom we stand,

But they, upon their ancient malice, will Forget, with the least cause, these his new honours; [tion Which that he'll give them, make as little quesAs he is proud to do't.

Bru. I heard him swear, Were he to stand for consul, never would he Appear i'the market-place, nor on him put The napless vesture of humility; Nor, showing (as the manner is) his wounds To the people, beg their stinking breaths. Sic. "Tis right.

Bru. It was his word: O, he would miss it, rather

Than carry it, but by the suit o'the gentry to And the desire of the nobles. [him,

Sic. I wish no better,

Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it In execution.

Bru. 'Tis most like, he will.

Sic. It shall be to him then, as our good wills A sure destruction.

Bru. So it must fall out

To him, or our authorities. For an end,

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