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Cor. Prepare thy brow to frown; know'st thou me yet? Auf. I know thee not; thy name?

Cor. My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done
To thee particularly, and to all the Volfcians,
Great hurt and mifchief; thereto witness may
My firname, Coriolanus. The painful fervice,
The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood
Shed for my thanklefs country, are requited
But with that firname: a good memory,
And witness of the malice and displeasure
Which thou should't bear me, only that name remains.
The cruelty and envy of the people,
Permitted by our daftard nobles, who

Have all forfook me, hath devour'd the reft;
And fuffer'd me by th' voice of flaves to be
Hoop'd out of Rome. Now, this extremity
Hath brought me to thy hearth, not out of hope
(Miftake me not) to fave my life; for if
I had fear'd death, of all the men i' th' world
I'd have avoided thee. But in mere spite
To be full quit of thofe my banishers,

Stand I before thee here: then if thou haft
A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge
Thine own particular wrongs, and ftop thofe maims
Of fhame feen through thy country, fpeed thee ftraight,
And make my mifery ferve thy turn: fo use it,
That my revengeful fervices may prove

As benefits to thee. For I will fight

Against my canker'd country, with the spleen

Of all the under fiends. But if fo be

Thou dar'ft not this, and that to prove more fortunes
Thou'rt tir'd; then, in a word, I also am
Longer to live moft weary, and present
My throat to thee, and to thy ancient malice:
Which not to cut, would fhew thee but a fool,
Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate,
Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breaft,
And cannot live, but to thy fhame, unless
It be to do thee fervice.

Auf. Oh, Marcius, Marcius,

Each

Each word, thou'ft fpoke, hath weeded from my heart
A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter

Should from yon cloud fpeak to me things divine,
And fay, 'tis true; I'd not believe them more
Than thee, all-noble Marcius. Let me twine
Mine arms about that body, where-against
My grained afh an hundred times hath broke,
And fear'd the moon with splinters: here I clip
The anvile of my fword, and do contest
As hotly and as nobly with thy love,
As ever in ambitious ftrength I did

Contend against thy valour. Know thou first,
I lov'd the maid I married; never man
Sigh'd truer breath: but, that I fee thee here,
Thou noble thing, more dances my rapt heart,
Than when I first my wedded mistress faw
Beftride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell thee,
We have a power on foot; and I had purpose
Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn,
Or lose my arm for't: thou haft beat me out
Twelve feveral times, and I have nightly fince
Dream't of encounters 'twixt thyfelf and me:
We have been down together in my fleep,
Unbuckling helms, fifting each other's throat,
And wak'd half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius,
Had we no quarrel elfe to Rome, but that
Thou art thence banish'd, we would mufter all
From twelve to feventy; and pouring war
Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,

Like a bold flood o'er-bear. O come, go in,
And take our friendly fenators by th' hands.
Who now are here, taking their leaves of me,
Who am prepar'd against your territories,
Though not for Rome itself.

Cor. You blefs me, gods!

Auf. Therefore, moft abfolute Sir, if thou wilt have The leading of thine own revenges, take One half of my commiffion, and fet down As bell thou art experienc'd, fince thou know'st

Thy country's ftrength and weakness, thine own ways;

Whether

Whether to knock against the gates of Rome,
Or rudely vifit them in parts remote,

To fright them, ere destroy.

But come, come in

Let me commend thee firft to thofe, that shall
Say yea to thy defires. A thoufand welcomes!
And more a friend, than e'er an enemy:
Yet, Marcius, that was much.

welcome!

Enter two Servamts.

1 Ser. Here's a ftrange alteration.

-Your hand; most

[Exeunt

2 Ser. By my hand, I had thought to have ftrucken him with a cudgel, and yet my mind gave me, his clothes made a falfe report of him.

1 Ser. What an arm he has! he turn'd me about with his finger and his thumb, as one would fet up a top. 2 Ser. Nay, I knew by his face that there was fomething in him. He had, Sir, a kind of face, methoughtI cannot tell how to term it.'

1 Ser. He had fo: looking, as it were would I were hanged, but I thought there was more in him than I could think.

2 Ser. So did I, I'll be fworn: he is fimply the rareft man i' th' world.

1 Ser. I think, he is; but a greater foldier than he,

you wot one.

2 Ser. Who, my master?

1 Ser. Nay, it's no matter for that.

2 Ser. Worth fix on him.

1 Ser. Nay, not fo neither; but I take him to be the greater foldier.

2 Ser. Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that; for the defence of a town, our General is excellent. 1 Ser. Ay, and for an affault too.

3

Enter a third Servant.

Ser. Oh, flaves, I can tell you news; news, you rafcals.

Both. What, what, what? let's partake.

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3 Ser. I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as lieve be a condemn'd man.

Both. Wherefore? wherefore?

3 Ser. Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our General, Caius Marcius.

1 Ser. Why do you fay, thwack our General?

3 Ser. I do not say, thwack our General; but he was always good enough for him.

2 Ser. Come, we are fellows and friends; he was ever too hard for him, I have heard him say so himself.

1 Ser. He was too hard for him directly, to fay the troth on't: before Corioli, he fcocht him and notcht him like a carbonado.

2 Ser. And, had he been cannibally given, he might have broil'd and eaten him too.

1 Ser. But, more of thy news;

3 Ser. Why, he is fo made on here within, as if he were fon and heir to Mars: fet at upper end o' th' table; no question afk'd him by any of the fenators, but they ftand bald before him. Our General himself makes a mistress of him, fan&tifies himself with's hands, and turns up the white o' th' eye to his difcourfe. But the bottom of the news is, our General is cut i' th middle, and but one half of what he was yesterday. For the other has half, by the intreaty and grant of the whole table. He'll go, he fays, and fowle the porter of Rome gates by th' ears. He will mow down all before him, and leave his paffage poll'd.

2 Ser. And he's as like to do't as any man I can imagine.

Ser. Do't! he will do't: for look you, Sir, he has as many friends as enemies; which friends, Sir, as it were, durft not (look you, Sir) fhew themselves (as we term it) his friends, whilft he's in directitude.

1 Ser. Directitude! what's that?

3 Ser. But when they fhall fee, Sir, his creft up again, and the man in blood, they will out of their burroughs (like conies after rain (and revel all with him. 1 Ser. But when goes this forward ? VOL. VI. U

3 Ser.

3 Ser. To-morrow, to-day, prefently, you shall have the drum ftruck up this afternoon: 'tis, as it were, a parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips.

2 Ser. Why, then we fhall have a ftirring world again this peace is worth nothing, but to ruft iron, encrease taylors, and breed ballad-makers,

1 Ser. Let me have war, fay I; it exceeds peace, as far as day does night; it's fprightly, waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy, mull'd, deaf, fleepy, infenfible, a getter of more baftard children than war's a destroyer of men.

2 Ser, 'Tis fo; and as war in fome fort may be said to be a ravisher, fo it cannot be denied, but peace is a great maker of cuckolds.

1 Ser. Ay, and it makes men hate one another.

3

Ser. Reafon, because they then lefs need one another: the wars, for my money. I hope, to fee Romans as cheap as Volfcians.

They are rifing, they are rifing.

Both. In, in, in, in.

[Exeunt.

SCENE, a publick Place in Rome.

Enter Sicinius and Brutus.

Sic. (33) W His remedies are tame i' th' prefent peace,

Ehear not of him, neither need we fear him;

And quietnefs o' th' people, which before
Were in wild hurry. Here we make his friends
Blufh, that the world goes well; who rather had,

(33) We bear not of bim, neither need we fear him,

His remedies are tame: the prefent peace

And quietnefs o' th' people, which before

Were in wild burry.] As this paffage has been hitherto pointed, it labours under two abfurdities; firft, that the peace abroad, and the quietnefs of the populace at home, are call'd Marcius's remedies; whereas, in truth, thefe were the impediments of his revenge: In the next place, the latter branch of the sentence is imperfect and ungrammatical. My regulation prevents both thefe inconveniencies.

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