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Were to us all that do't, and suffer it,
A brand to th' end oth' world.
Sic. This is clean kamme.
Bru. Merely awry: when he did love his country,
It honour'd him.
Men. The service of the foot
Being once gangreen'd, it is not then respected
For what before it was
Bru. We'll hear no more.
Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence ;
Left his infection, being of catching nature,
Men. One word more, one word :
This tiger-footed rage, when it hall find
The harm of unkann'd swiftness, will (too late)
Tie leaden pounds to’s heels. Proceed by process,
Left parties (as he is belov'd) break out,
And fack great Rome with Romans.
Bru. If 'twere so
Sic. What do
Have we not had a taste of his obedience?
Our Ædiles (mote, ourselves refifted, come
Men. Consider this; he hath been bred i'th' wars
Since he could draw a sword, and is ill-school'd
In boulted language; meal and bran together
He throws without distinction. Give me leave,
I'll go to him, and undertake to bring him
Where he shall answer by a lawful form,
In peace, to his utmost peril.
i Sen. Noble tribunes,
It is the humane way; the other course
Will prove too bloody, and the end of it
Unknown to the beginning.
Sic. Noble Menenius,
Be you then as the people's officer.
Masters, lay down your weapons.
Bru. Go not home.
Sic. Meet on the forum; we'll attend you there,
Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed
la our first way.
Men. I'll bring him to you.
Let me desire your company ; he must come,
Or what is wortt will follow.
i Sen. Pray, let's lo him.
[Exeunt. SCENE changes to Coriolanus's House.
Enter Coriolanus, with Nobles.
ET them pull all about mine ears, present me,
Death on the wheel, or at wild horses heels,
Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock,
That the precipitation might down ftretch
Below the beam of fight, yet will I till
Be thus to them.
Noble. You do the nobler.
Cor. I muse, my mother
Does not approve me further, who was wont
To call them woollen vassals, things created
To buy and sell with groats; to fhew bare heads
In congregations, yawn, be ftill, and wonder,
When one but of my ordinance stood up
To speak of peace or war; (I talk of you)
Why did you wish me milder? wou'd you have me
False to my nature ? rather say, I play
The man I am.
Vol. Oh, Sir, Sir, Sir,
I would have had you put your power well on,
had worn it out. Cor. Let it
go.id Vol. You might have been enough the man you are, With striving less to be so. Lesser had been (25) The thwartings of your dispositions, if (25)
- Leffer bad been The things that thwart your dispositions,] The old copies exhibit it,
The things of your dispositions, A few letters repiac’d, that by some carelesness drop'd out, reftore us the poet's genuine reading; I be thwartings of your dispositions,
You had not shew'd them how ye were dispos'd
Ere they lack'd power to cross you.
Cor. Let them hang.
Vol. Ay, and burn too.
Enter Menenius, with the Senators.
Men. Come, come, you've been too rough, fome-
thing too rough ;
You must return, and mend it.
Sen. There's no remedy,
Unless, by not so doing, our good city
Cleave in the midst, and perit.
Vol. Pray, be counfelld;
I have a heart as little apt as yours,
But yet a brain that leads my use of anger
To better vantage.
Men. Well said, noble woman:
(26) Before he should thus stoop to th' herd, but that
The violent fit o'th' times craves it as
For the whole state, I'd put mine armour on,
Which I can scarcely bear.
Cor. What must I do?
Men. Return to th' tribunes.
Cor. Well, what then? what then?
Mex. Repent what you have fpoke.
Cur. For.them -- I cannot do it for the gods,
Must I then do'i to them?
Vol. You are too absolute, Tho’therein you can never be too noble, But when extremities speak. I've heard you say, Honour and policy, like unsever'd fri.nds, l'th' war do grow together; grant that, and tell me
(26) Before he thus should fivop to th’ heart,-) But how did Corio. lanus stoop to his heart! he rather, as we vulgarly express it, made bis proud heart stop to the neceffity of the times. I am persuaded, my emendation gives the true reading. So, before, in this play;
Are these your berd?
So, in Julius Casar;
When he perceiv’d, the common berd was glad he refus'd the
And in inany other passages.
In peace, what each of them by th'other loses,
That they combine not there
Cor. Tush, tush-
Men. A good demand.
Vol. If it be honour in your wars, to seem
The same you are not, which for your best ends
You call your policy: how is ’t less, or worse,
That it shall hold companionship in peace
With honour, as in war; since that to both
It stand in like request?
Cor. Why force you
Vol. Because it lies on you to speak to th' people:
Not by your own instruction, nor by th' matter
heart prompts you to, but with such words
But roted in your tongue; baftards, and fyllables
Of no allowance, to your bosom's truth.
Now, this no more difhonours you at all,
Than to take in a town with gentle words,
Which else would put you to your fortune, and
The hazard of much blood..
I would diffemble with my nature, where
My fortunes, and my friends at stake, requir'd
I should do so in honour. (27) I'm in this
Your wife, your fon, these senators, the nobles.-
And you will rather shew aur general lowts
How you can frown, than spend a fawn upon 'em,
For the inheritance of their loves, and safeguard
Of what that want might ruin !
Men. Noble Lady!
Come, go with us, fpeak fair: you may falve so
Not what is dangerous present, but the loss
Of what is paft.
Vol. I prythee now, my son,
-I'm in this
Your wife, your son: the senators the nobles,
And you &c.] The pointing of the printed copies makes ftark Bonsense of this passage. Volumnia is persuading Coriolunus that he ought to flatter the people, as the general fortune was at stake; asid says, that, in this advice, the speaks as his wife, as his son; as the Senate, and body of the patricians; who were in some measure link'd to his conducto
Go to them, with this bunnet in thy hand,
And thus far having stretch'd it (here be with them)
Thy knee busing the stones; (for in such bufiness
Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th' ignorant
More learned than the ears ;) (28) waving thy head,
Which often, thus, correcting thy ftout heart,
Now humble as the ripest mulberry,
That will not hold the handling: or say to them,
Thou art their foldier, and, being bred in broils,
Haft not the soft way, which thou doft confess
Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim,
In afking their good loves; but thou wilt frame
Thyself (forfooth) hereafter theirs so far,
As thou hast power and person.
Men. This but done,
Ev’n as she speaks, why, all their hearts were yours:
For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free,
As words to little purpose.
Vol. Pr’ythee now,
Go and be ruld: alcho', I know, thou'dit rather
Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf
Than fiatter him in a bower.
Here is Cominius.
Com. I've been i'th' market-place, and, Sir, 'tis fit You have strong party, or defend yourself By calmnefs, or by absence : all's in anger. (28)
- waving tby head, Which often, thus, correcting thy stout beart,] But do any of the ancient, or modern masters of elocution prescribe the waving the bead, when they treat of action? or how does the waving the head correct the stoutness of the heart, or evidence humility? or lastly, where is the sense or grammar of these words, Which often thus &c. These questions are sufficient to thew the absurd corruption of these lines. Ì would read therefore;
-waving thy hand, Which soften thus, correcting thy fout heart; This is a very proper precept of action fuiting the occafion; wave thy hand, says fhe, and soften the action of it thus,.- then strike upon thy breast, and by that action shew the people thou hast corrected thy Atout heart. All here is fine and proper.