SCENE changes to the Roman Camp.

Alarum, as in battle. Enter Marcius and Aufidius, at Several doors.

Mar. T'LL fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee Worfe than a promife-breaker.

Auf. We hate alike:

Not Africk owns a ferpent I abhor

More than thy fame, and envy; fix thy foot.
Mar. Let the first budger die the other's flave,
And the gods doom him after !

Auf. If I fly, Marcius,

Hollow me like a hare.

Mar. Within thefe three hours, Tullus,

Alone I fought in your Corioli walls,

And made what work I pleas'd: 'tis not my blood,
Wherein thou fee'ft me mask'd; for thy revenge,
Wrench up thy power to th' highest.

Auf. Wert thou the Hector,

That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny,
Thou should't not 'fcape me here.

[Here they fight, and certain Volfcians come to the aid of Aufidius. Marcius fights, 'till they be driven in breathless.

Officious, and not valiant!-you have sham'd me
In your condemned feconds.

Flourish. Alarum. A retreat is founded. Enter at one door, Cominius with the Romans; at another door, Marcius, with his arm in a scarf.

Com. If I fhould tell thee o'er this thy day's work, Thou'lt not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it, Where fenators fhall mingle tears with fmiles; Where great patricians fhall attend and fhrug; I' th' end, admire; where Ladies fhall be frighted, And gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dull tribunes, That with the fufty plebeians, hate thine honours, Shall fay against their hearts,-We thank the gods, Our Rome hath such a soldier!

Yet

Yet cam'ft thou to a morfel of this feaft,

Having fully din'd before.

Enter Titus Lartius with his Power, from the purfuit.

Lart. O General,

Here is the fteed, we the caparison :

Hadft thou beheld

Mar. Pray now, no more: my mother, Who has a charter to extol her blood, When the does praise me, grieves me:

I have done as you have done; that's, what I can; Induc'd, as you have been; that's, for my country; He, that has but effected his good will,

Hath overta'en mine act.

Com. You fhall not be

The grave of your deferving: Rome must know
The value of her own: 'twere a concealment
Worfe than a theft, no lefs than a traducement,
To hide your doings; and to filence that,
Which, to the fpire and top of praifes vouch'd,
Would feem but modeft: therefore, I befeech you,
In fign of what you are, not to reward

What you have done, before our army

hear me.

Mar. I have fome wounds upon me, and they smart, To hear themselves remembred.

Com. Should they not,

Well might they fefter 'gainst ingratitude,

And tent themselves with death: Of all the horses,
Whereof we have ta'en good, and good store, of all
The treasure in the field atchiev'd, and city,

We render you the tenth, to be ta'en forth,
Before the common diftribution, at

Your only choice.

Mar. I thank you, General:

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

[A long flourish. They all cry, Marcius! Marcius! caft up their caps and launces: Cominius and Lartius ftand bare.

Mar.

Mar. May these fame inftruments, which you profane, (10)

Never found more! when drums and trumpets fhall
I' th' field prove flatterers, let camps, as cities,
Be made of falfe-fac'd foothing! when fteel grows
Soft, as the parafite's filk, let hymns be made
An overture for th' wars!-No more, I fay;
For that I have not wash'd my nose that bled,

(10) May thefe fame inflruments, which you profane,
Never found more: when drums and trumpets shall
rth' field prove flatterers, let courts and cities
Be made all of falfe-faced foothing.

ons.

"ture.

When fleel grows foft, as the parafite's filk,
Let him be ma e an overture for th' wars:
No more I fay; for that I have not wash'd
My nofe that bied, or foil'd fome debile wretch,
Which without rote bere's many elfe bave done,

You fout me forth in acclamations hyperbolical, &c ]

Many of the verfes in this truly fine paffage are difmounted, unnumerous, and imperfect: and the laft is no less than two foot and a half too long. For this reafon I have ventur'd to tranfpofe them to their measure; and the fenfe, 'tis plain, has been no lefs maim'd than the numbers. To remedy this part, I have had the affiftance of my ingenious friend Mr. Warburton; and with the benefit of his happy conjectures, which I have inferted in the text, the whole, I hope, is reftor'd to that purity, which was quite loft in the corruptions. I fhall now fubjoin his comment, in proof of the emenda'i"The meaning, that fenfe requires in the antithefis eviden ly "defign'd here, is this. If one change its ufual nature to a thing "moft oppofite, then let the o her do fo too. But courts and cities, "being made all of [mooth-fac'd foothing, remain in their proper naIn the fecond part of the fentence, the antithens between I feel and the parafite's filk does not indeed labour with this abfurdity: but it labours with another equally bad, and that is, nonfenfe "in the expreffion. The poet's whole thought feems to be this. if "drums and trumpets change their nature prepoftercufly, let camps do "fo too: And in the latter part of the fentence, the emendation feems to give a particular beauty to the expreffion. He had faid "before, If drums and trumpets prove flatterers; now here, aliuding to the fame thought, he fays, Then let hymns, foft mufick deftin'd to the praises of gods and heroes, be an overture for the wars: Where the overture is ufed with great technical propriety I should ob"ferve one thing, that the members of thefe two antithefes are con"founded one with another, which is a practice common with the beft authors: and it is a figure the rhetoricians have found a name << for.

Or foil'd fome debile wretch, which, without note
Here's many else have done; you fhout me forth
In acclamations hyperbolical;

As if I lov'd, my little fhould be dieted
In praifes, fauc'd with lies.

Com. Too modest are you:

More cruel to your good report, than grateful
To us, that give you truly: by your patience,
If 'gainft yourself you be incens'd, we'll put you
(Like one, that means his proper harm) in manacles;
Then reafon fafely with you: therefore be it known,
As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius
Wears this war's garland: in token of the which,
My noble fteed, known to the camp, I give him,
With all his trim belonging; and from this time,
For what he did before Corioli, call him,

With all th' applause and clamour of the hoft,
Caius Marcius Coriolanus. Bear th' addition nobly ever.
[Flourish. Trumpets found and drums.

Omnes. Caius Marcius Coriolanus !

Mar. I will go wash:

And when my face is fair, you fhall perceive

Whether I bluth, or no.

Howbeit, I thank you.

I mean to ftride your steed, and at all time
To undercrest your good addition,
To th' fairness of my power.

Com. So, to our tent:

Where, ere we do repofe us, we will write
To Rome of our fuccefs: you, Titus Lartius,
Muft to Corioli back; fend us to Rome
The beft, with whom we may articulate,
For their own good, and ours.
Lart. I fhall, my Lord,

Mar. The gods begin to mock me:
I, that but now refus'd moft princely gifts,
Am bound to beg of my Lord General.
Com. Take't, 'tis yours: what is't ?
Mar. I fometime lay here in Corioli,
At a poor man's houfe: he us'd me kindly.
He cry'd to me: I saw him prifoner:

But

But then Aufidius was within my view,

And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you
To give my poor hoft freedom.

Com. O, well begg'd!

Were he the butcher of my fon, he should
Be free as is the wind: deliver him, Titus.
Lart. Marcius, his name?

Mar. By Jupiter, forgot :

I am weary; yea, my memory is tir'd:
Have we no wine here?

Com. Go we to our tent;

The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time
It should be look'd to: come.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Camp of the Volfci.

A flourish. Cornets. Enter Tullus Aufidius bloody, with two or three Soldiers.

T

HE town is ta'en.

Auf. Sol. Twill be deliver'd back on good condition.

Auf. Condition!

I would, I were a Roman; for I cannot,
Being a Volfcian, be that I am.

Condition?

What good condition can a treaty find

I' th' part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius,
I have fought with thee, fo often haft thou beat me:
And would't do fo, I think, fhould we encounter
As often as we eat. By th' elements,

If e'er again I meet him beard to beard,
He's mine, or I am his: mine emulation

Hath not that honour in't, it had; for where
I thought to crufh him in an equal force,

True fword to fword; I'll potch at him fome way,
Or wrath, or craft may get him,

Sol. He's the devil.

Auf. Bolder, tho' not fo fubtle: my valour (poifon'd, With only fuffering ftain by him) for him Shall fly out of itself: not sleep, nor fanctuary, Being naked, fick, nor fane, nor capitol, The prayers of priests, nor times of facrifice,

Embark