From twelve to seventy; and pouring war Cor. The leading of thine own revenges, take The one half of my commission; and set down,— As best thou art experienc'd, since thou know'st Thy country's strength and weakness,-thine own ways: Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, Or rudely visit them in parts remote, To fright them, ere destroy. But come in: Let me commend thee first to those, that shall Say, yea, to thy desires. A thousand welcomes! And more a friend than e'er an enemy; Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand; Most welcome! [Exeunt COR. and AUF. 1 Serv. [Advancing.] Here's a strange alteration! 2 Serv. By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with a cudgel; and yet my mind gave me, his clothes made a false report of him. 1 Serv. What an arm he has! He turned me about with his finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top. 2 Serv. Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in him: He had, sir, a kind of face, methought,-I cannot tell how to term it. 1 Serv. He had so looking as it were,'Would I were hanged, but I thought there was more in him than I could think. 2 Serv. So did I, I'll be sworn: He is simply the rarest man i' the world. 1 Serv. I think, he is: but a greater soldier than he, you wot one. 2 Serv. Who? my master? 1 Serv. Nay, it's no matter for that. 2 Serv. Worth six of him. 1 Serv. Nay, not so neither; but I take him to be the greater soldier. 2 Serv. 'Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that: for the defence of a town, our general is excellent. 1 Serv. Ay, and for an assault too. Re-enter third Servant. 3 Serv. O, slaves, I can tell you news; news, you rascals. 1, 2 Serv. What, what, what? let's partake. 3 Serv. I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as lieve be a condemned man. 1,2 Serv. Wherefore? wherefore? 3 Serv. Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our general,-Caius Marcius. 1 Serv. Why do you say, thwack our general? 3 Serv. I do not say, thwack our general; but he was always good enough for him. 2 Serv. Come, we are fellows, and friends: he was ever too hard for him; I have heard him say so himself. 1 Serv. He was too hard for him directly, to say the truth on't: before Corioli, he scotched him and notched him like a carbonado. 2 Serv. An he had been cannibally given, he might have broiled and eaten him too. 1 Serv. But, more of thy news? 3 Serv. Why, he is so made on here within, as if he were son and heir to Mars: set at upper end o' the table: no question asked him by any of the senators, but they stand bald before him: Our general himself makes a mistress of him; sanctifies himself with's hand, and turns up the white o' the eye to his discourse. But the bottom of the news is, our general is cut i' the middle, and but one half of what he was yesterday; for the other has half, by the entreaty and grant of the whole table. He'll go, he says, and sowle the porter of Rome gates by the ears: He will mow down all before him, and leave his passage polled. 2 Serv. And he's as like to do't, as any man I can imagine. 3 Serv. Do't? he will do't: For, look you, sir, he has as many friends as enemies: which friends, sir (as it were), durst not (look you, sir) show themselves (as we term it) his friends, whilst he's in directitude. 1 Serv. Directitude! what's that? 3 Serv. But when they shall see, sir, his crest up again, and the man in blood, they will ont of their burrows, like conies after rain, and revel all with him. 1 Serv. But when goes this forward? 3 Serv. To-morrow; to-day; presently. You shall have the drum struck up this afternoon: 'tis, as it were, a parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips. 2 Serv. Why, then we shall have a stirring world again. This peace is nothing, but to rust iron, increase tailors, and breed ballad-makers. 1 Serv. Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace, as far as day does night; it's sprightly, waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more bastard children, than wars a destroyer of men. 2 Serv. 'Tis so: and as wars, in some sort, may be said to be a ravisher; so it cannot be denied, but peace is a great maker of cuckolds. 1 Serv. Ay, and it makes men hate one another. 3 Serv. Reason, because they then less need one another. The wars for my money. I hope to see Romans as cheap as Volcians. They are rising, they are rising. All. In, in, in, in. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Rome. A publick Place. Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS. Sic. We hear not of him, neither need we fear His remedies are tame i' the present peace Enter MENENIUS. Bru. We stood to't in good time. Is this Sic. 'Tis he, 'tis he: O, he is grown most kind Of late.-Hail, sir! Men. Hail to you both! Sic. Your Coriolanus, sir, is not much miss'd, But with his friends: the commonwealth doth stand; And so would do, were he more angry at it. Men. All's well; and might have been much better, if He could have temporiz'd. Sic. Where is he, hear you? Men. Nay, I hear nothing; his mother and his wife Hear nothing from him. Enter Three or Four Citizens. Cit. The gods preserve you both! Sic. Good e'en, our neighbours. Bru. Good e'en to you all, good e'en to you all. 1 Cit. Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our knees, Are bound to pray for you both. Sic. Live, and thrive! Bru. Farewell, kind neighbours; we wish'd Coriolanus Had lov'd you as we did. Now the gods keep you! Cit. [Exeunt Citizens. Sic. This is a happier and more comely time, Than when these fellows ran about the streets, Crying, Confusion. Bru. Cains Marcius was A worthy officer i' the war; but insolent, O'ercome with pride, ambitious past all think ing, Self-loving,- And affecting one sole throne, Without assistance. Men. I think not so. Sic. We should by this, to all our lamentation, If he had gone forth consul, found it so. VOL. VI. Bru. The gods have well prevented it, and Rome Sits safe and still without him. Ed. Enter Edile. Worthy tribunes, There is a slave, whom we have put in prison, Reports, the Volces with two several powers Are enter'd in the Roman territories; And with the deepest malice of the war Men. Rome And durst not once peep out. Sic. Of Marcius? Come, what talk you Bru. Go see this rumourer whipp'd.-It can not be, The Volces dare break with us. Men. Cannot be! We have record, that very well it can; And beat the messenger who bids beware Sic. I know, this cannot be. Bru. Tell not me : Not possible. Enter a Messenger. Mess. The nobles, in great earnestness, are going All to the senate-house: some news is come, That turns their countenances. Sic. 'Tis this slave; Go whip him 'fore the people's eyes:-his rais ing! Nothing but his report! Mess. Yes, worthy sir, The slave's report is seconded; and more, More fearful is deliver'd. |