As if Olympus to a molehill should Volumnia. This is a poor epitome of yours, Coriolanus. The god of soldiers, With the consent of supreme Jove, inform Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou may'st prove Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man Say my request's unjust, Thou art not honest; and the gods will plague thee, Coriolanus. Ŏ mother, mother, (Holding VOLUMINA by the hands, silent.) What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, I'll make convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius, Were you in my stead, say, would you have heard Coriolanus. I dare be sworn, you were: And, sir, it is no little thing, to make To have a temple built you: all the swords Could not have made this peace.-Sc. 3. Menenius. See you yond' coign o' the Capitol: yond' corner-stone ? Sicinius. Why, what of that? Menenius. If it be possible for you to displace it with your little finger, there is some hope the ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. But I say, there is no hope in't; our throats are sentenced, and stay upon execution. Sicinius. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter the condition of a man? Menenius. There is differency between a grub and a butterfly; yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown from man to dragon; he has wings; he's more than a creeping thing. Sicinius. He lov'd his mother dearly. Menenius. So did he me: and he no more remembers his mother now, than an eight year old horse. The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes. When he walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground shrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corslet with his eye; talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He sits in his state, as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done, is finished with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but eternity, and a heaven to throne in. Sicinius. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly. Menenius. I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his mother shall bring: There is no more mercy in him, than there is milk in a male tiger; that shall our city find: and all this is 'long of you. Sicinius. The gods be good unto us! Menenius. No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us. When we banished him, we respected not them; and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us.Sc. 4. Coriolanus. Hear'st thou, Mars? Aufidius. Name not the god, thou boy of tears,— Coriolanus. Aufidius. No more. Ha! my heart Coriolanus. Measureless liar, thou hast made I was forc'd to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords, (Who wears my stripes impress'd on him; that must bear 1st Lord. Peace, both, and hear me speak. Coriolanus. Cut me to pieces, Volces; men and lads, Stain all your edges on me.-Boy! False hound! If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there, That like an eagle in a dove-cote, I Alone I did it.-Boy! 2nd Lord. Peace, ho;-no outrage ;-peace. The man is noble, and his fame folds in This orb o' the earth. His last offence to us Coriolanus. O! that I had him, With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, To use my lawful sword! Aufidius. Insolent villain! Conspirators. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him. (AUFIDIUS and the Conspirators draw, and kill CORIOLANUS, who falls, and AUFIDIUS stands on him.) Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold! Aufidius. My noble masters, hear me speak. 1st Lord. O! Tullus 2nd Lord. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep. Aufidius. My rage is gone, And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up; Help, three of the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.- Which to this hour bewail the injury, Assist. (Exeunt, bearing the body of CORIOLANUS. A dead march sounded.)-Sc. 5. JULIUS CÆSAR. Of this tragedy many particular passages deserve regard, and the contention and reconcilement of Brutus and Cassius is universally celebrated; but I have never been strongly agitated in perusing it, and think it somewhat cold and unaffecting, compared with some other of Shakspeare's plays; his adherence to the real story, and to Roman manners, seems to have impeded the natural vigour of his genius.-Johnson. Cassius. Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face? Brutus. No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself, (Flourish and shout.) What means this shouting? I do fear, the people Choose Cæsar for their king. But by reflection. Cassius. Ay, do you fear it ? Brutus. I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well:- If it be aught toward the general good, Set honour in one eye, and death i̇' the other, For, let the gods so speed me, as I love The name of honour more than I fear death.-Act. 1, Sc. 2. Cæsar. Antonius. Antony. Cæsar. Cæsar. Let me have men about me that are fat; Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights: Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look; He thinks too much: such men are dangerous. Antony. Fear him not, Cæsar, he's not dangerous: He's a noble Roman, and well given. Cæsar. 'Would he were fatter:-But I fear him not: Yet if my name were liable to fear, I do not know the man I should avoid So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much; Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays, I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd, Than what I fear, for always I am Cæsar. Casca. Ay, he spoke Greek. Cassius. To what effect? Casca. Nay, an I tell you that, I'll ne'er look you i' the face again: But those that understood him, smiled at one another, and shook their heads; but for mine own part, it was Greek to me.-Id. Brutus. "Tis a common proof, Brutus. O! Conspiracy; Sham'st thou to show thy dangerous brow by night, Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none, conspiracy; For if thou path, thy native semblance on, Not Erebus itself were dim enough To hide thee from prevention. Brutus. Give me your hands all over one by one. Cassius. And let us swear our resolution. Brutus. No, not an oath: If not the face of men, The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse, If these be motives weak, break off betimes, |