Let them pronounce the fteep Tarpeian death,
Vagabond exile, fleaing, pent to linger
But with a grain a-day, I would not buy
Their mercy at the price of one fair word;
Nor check my courage for what they can give,
To have't with faying, good-morrow.

Sic. For that he has

(As much as in him lies) from time to time
Envy'd against the people; feeking means
To pluck away their power; as now at last
Giv'n hoftile ftrokes, and that not in the presence
Of dreaded juftice, but on the minifters
That do diftribute it; in the name o' th' people,
And in the power of us the tribunes, we
(Ev'n from this inftant) banish him our city;
In peril of precipitation

From off the rock Tarpeian, never more

To enter our Rome's gates. I' th' people's name,
I fay, it fhall be fo.

All. It fhall be fo, it fhall be fo; let him away:
He's banish'd, and it fhall be fo.

Com. Hear me, my mafters, and my common friends→→ Sic. He's fentenc'd: no more hearing.

Com. Let me fpeak:

(32) I have been conful, and can fhew for Rome
Her enemies marks upon me. I do love

My country's good, with a refpect more tender,
Mere holy, and profound, than mine own life,
My dear wife's eftimate, her womb's increase,
And treasure of my loins: then if I would
Speak that-

t

(32) I have b en conful, and can fhew from Rome

Her enemies marks upon me?] How, from Rome? did he receive hoftile marks from his own country? no fuch thing: he receiv'd them in the fervice of Rome. So, twice in the beginning of next act, it is faid of Coriolanus;

-Had'ft thou foxship

To banish him, that ftruck more blows for Rome,
Than thou haft fpoken words?

And again;

Good man! the wounds that he does bear for Rome!

Sic. We know your drift. Speak what?

Bru. There's no more to be faid, but he is banish'd

As enemy to the people, and his country.

It fhall be fo.

All. It fhall be fo, it fhall be fo.

Cor. You common cry of curs, whofe breath I hate,
As reek o' th' rotten fens; whofe loves I prize,
As the dead carcaffes of unburied men,

That do corrupt my air: I banish you.
And here remain with your uncertainty;
Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts;
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,
Fan you into defpair: have the power ftill
To banish your defenders, till at length,
Your ignorance (which finds not, till it feels;
Making but refervation of yourselves
Still your own enemies) deliver you,
As most abated captives, to fome nation
That won you without blows. Defpifing then
For you, the city, thus I turn my back:
There is a world elfewhere.

[Exeunt Coriolanus, Cominius, and others.
[The people fhout, and throw up their caps.
Edile. The people's enemy is gone, is gone!
All. Our enemy is banish'd; he is gone! hoo! hoo!
Sic. Go fee him out at gates, and follow him
As he hath follow'd you; with all defpight
Give him deferv'd vexation. Let a guard
Attend us through the city.

All. Come, come; let's fee him out at the gates; come The gods preferve our noble tribunes !-come.

[Exeunt

ACT

A C T IV.

SCENE, before the Gates of Rome.

Enter Coriolanus, Volumnia, Virgilia, Menenius, Cominius, with the young Nobility of Rome.

C

CORIOLANUS.

NOme, leave your tears: a brief farewel: the beaft With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother, Where is your ancient courage? you were us'd

To fay, extremity was the trier of fpirits,

That common chances common men could bear;
That, when the fea was calm, all boats alike
Shew'd maftership in floating. Fortune's blows,
When moft ftruck home, being gently warded, craves
A noble cunning. You were us❜d to load me
With precepts, that would make invincible
The heart that conn'd them.

Vir. Oh heav'ns! O heav'ns!
Cor. Nay, I pr'ythee, woman-

Vol. Now the red peftilence ftrike all trades in Rome, And occupations perifh.

Cor. What! what! what!

I fhall be lov'd, when I am lack'd. Nay, mother,
Refume that fpirit, when you were wont to fay,
If you had been the wife of Hercules,

mother!

Six of his labours you'd have done, and fav'd
Your husband fo much fweat. Cominius,
Droop not; adieu: farewel, my wife! my
I'll do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius,
Thy tears are falter than a younger man's,

And venomous to thine eyes. My fometime General,
I've feen thee ftern, and thou haft oft beheld
Heart-hardning fpectacles. Tell thefe fad women,
'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes,

As

As 'tis to laugh at 'em. Mother, you wot,
My hazards ftill have been your folace; and
Believe't not lightly, (tho' I go alone,

Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen

Makes fear'd, and talk'd of more than feen :) your fon
Will, or exceed the common, or be caught
With cautelous baits and practice.

Vol. My firft son,

Where will you go? take good Cominius
With thee a while; determine on fome course,
More than a wild expofure to each chance,
That starts i' th' way before thee.

Cor. O the gods!

Com. I'll follow thee a month, devife with thee
Where thou shalt reft, that thou may't hear of us,
And we of thee. So, if the time thrust forth
A caufe for thy repeal, we fhall not fend
O'er the vaft world, to feek a fingle man ;
And lofe advantage, which doth ever cool
I' th' abfence of the needer.

Cor. Fare ye well:

Thou'ft years upon thee, and thou art too full
Of the war's furfeits, to go rove with one
That's yet unbruis'd; bring me but out at gate.
Come, my fweet wife, my deareft mother, and
My friends of noble touch: when I am forth,
Bid me farewel, and fmile. I pray you, come.
While I remain above the ground, you fhall
Hear from me ftill, and never of me ought
But what is like me formerly.

Men. That's worthily

As any ear can hear. Come, let's not weep.
If I could fhake off but one feven years

From thefe old arms and legs, by the good gods,

I'd with thee every foot.

Cor. Give me thy hand.

[Exeunt.

Enter Sicinius and Brutus, with the Edile.

Sic. Bid them all home, he's gone; and we'll no further. Vex'd are the nobles, who, we fee, have fided

In his behalf.

Bru.

Bru. Now we have fhewn our power, Let us feem humbler after it is done, Than when it was a doing.

Sic. Bid them home;

Say, their great enemy is gone, and they
Stand in their ancient ftrength.

Bru. Difmifs them home.
Here comes his mother.

Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Menenius.

Sic. Let's not meet her.

Bru. Why?

Sic. They fay, she's mad.

Bru. They have ta'en note of us: keep on your way.
Vol. Oh, y' are well met:

The horded plague o' th' gods requite your love!
Men. Peace, peace; be not fo loud.

Vol. If that I could for weeping, you should hear— Nay, and you fhall hear fome.-Will you be gone? Vir. You fhall ftay too :-I would, I had the power To fay fo to my husband.

Sic. Are you man-kind?

Vol. Ay, fool: is that a fhame? note but this fool.. Was not a man my father? hadft thou foxship

To banish him that ftruck more blows for Rome,
Than thou haft fpoken words.

Sic. Oh bleffed heav'ns!

Vol. More noble blows, than ever thou wise words, And for Rome's good-I'll tell thee what-yet goNay, but thou shalt ftay too-I would, my fon Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him,

His good fword in his hand.

Sic. What then?

Vir. What then? he'd make an end of thy pofterity. Vol. Baftards, and all.

Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome!

Men. Come, come, peace.

Sic. I would, he had continued to his country As he began, and not unknit himself

The noble knot he made.

Bru.