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Mine bonour for his truth: Who being so heighten'd,
3 Con. Sir, his stoutness,
That I would have spoke of:
So he did, my lord :
There was it ;
[Drums and trumpets sound, with great
shouts of the people. 1 Con. Your native town you enter'd like a post, And had no welcomes home; but he returns, Splitting the air with noise,
And patient fools, Whose children he hath slain, their base throats
tear, With giving him glory. 3 Con.
Therefore, at your vantage, Ere he express himself, or move the people With what he would say, let him feel your sword, Which we will second. When be lies along, After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury His reasons with his body. Auf.
Say no more ; Here come the lords.
Enter the Lords of the city. Lords. You are most welcome home. Auf.
I have not deserv'd it. But, worthy lords, have you with heed perus'd What I have written to you? Lords.
We have, 1 Lord.
And grieve to hear it. What faults he made before the last, I think, Might have found easy fines : but there to end, Where he was to begin; and give away The benefit of our levies, answering us With our own charge*; making a treaty, where There was a yielding; This admits no excuse.
Auf. He approaches, you shall hear him.
Enter Coriolanus, with drums and colours; a
crowd of Citizens with him. Cor. Hail, lords ! I am returned your soldier; No more infected with my country's love, Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting Under your great command. You are to know, That prosperously I have attempted, and With bloody passage, led your wars, even to
• Rewarding us with our own expences.
The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought
home, Do more than counterpoise, a full third part, The charges of the action. We have made peace, With no less honour to the Antiates*, Than shame to the Romans: And we bere deliver Subscrib'd by the consuls and patricians, Together with the seal o'the senate, what We have compounded on. Auf.
Read it not, noble lords;
Cor. Traitor!-How now?
Ay, traitor, Marcius. Cor.
Marcius ! Auf, Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius; Dost thou
Hear'st thou, Mars?
Ha! Auf. No moret.
Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave! Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever
I was forc'd to scold. Your judgements, my grave
lords, Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion (Who wears my stripes impress’d on him; that must
bear My beating to his grave ;) shall join to thrust The lie unto him.
1 Lord. Peace, both, and hear me speak.
Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volces; men and lads,
Wby, noble lords,
[Several speak at once. Cit. [ Speaking promiscuously.) Tear him to pieces, do it presently. He killed my son ;-my daughter;-He killed my cousin Marcus ;-He kill. ed my father.
2 Lord. Peace, hovo outrage ;--peace. The man is noble, and bis fame folds in This orb o'the earth. His last offence to us Shall have judicioust hearing.Stand, Aufidius, And trouble not the peace. Cor.
O, that I had him, With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, To use my lawful sword ! Auf.
Insolent villain ! Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him. (Aufidius and the Conspirators draw, and
kill Coriolanus, who falls, and Aufidius stands on him.
• His fame overspreads the world.
Hold, hold, hold, hold. Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak. 1 Lord.
O Tullus, 2 Lord. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour
will weep. 3 Lord. Tread not upon him.-Masters all, be
quiet; Put up your swords. Auf. My lords, when you shall know (as in this
rage, Provok'd by him, you cannot), the great danger Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours To call me to your senate, I'll deliver Myself your loyal servant, or endure Your heaviest censure. 1 Lord.
Bear from hence his body,
His own impatience
My rage is gone,
A dead march sounded.