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Lart. I shall, my lord.

Cor. The gods begin to mock me. I that now
Refus'd most princely gifts, am bound to beg
Of my lord general.

Com. Take it 'tis your's.-What is't?
Cor. I sometime lay, here in Corioli,
At a poor man's house; he us'd me kindly :
He cry'd to me; I saw him prisoner;
But then Aufidius was within my view,

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

Com. O, well begg'd!

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

Cor. 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.

SCENE X.

The Camp of the Volces. A Flourish.

[Exeunt.

Cornets. Enter

TULLUS AUFIDIUS, bloody, with two or three Soldiers.

Auf. The town is ta'en!

1 Sol. 'Twill be deliver'd back on good condition.
Auf. Condition ?-

I would, I were a Roman; for I cannot,

Being a Volce, be that I am.-Condition!
What good condition can a treaty find

I' the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius,

I have fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me; And would'st do so, I think, should we encounter

As often as we eat.-By the elements,

If e'er again I meet him beard to beard,

He is mine, or I am his. Mine emulation

Hath not that honour in't, it had; for where

I thought to crush him in an equal force,

(True sword to sword,) I'll potch at him some way;" Or wrath, or craft, may get him.

1 Sol. He's the devil.

[7] Potch, is used in the midland counties for a rough, violent push. STEEVENS The modern word poke is only a hard pronunciation of this word.

MALONE.

Auf. Bolder, tho' not so subtle : My valour's poison'd With only suffering stain by him; for him Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep, nor sanctuary, Being naked, sick nor fane, nor Capitol, The prayers of priests, nor times of sacrifice, Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it At home, upon my brother's guard,' even there Against the hospitable canon, would I

Wash my fierce hand in his heart. Go you to the city; Learn, how 'tis held; and what they are, that must

Be hostages for Rome.

1 Sol. Will not you go?

Auf. I am attended at the cypress grove ;*

I pray you,

(Tis south the city mills,) bring me word thither How the world goes; that to the pace of it

I may spur on my journey.

1 Sol. I shall, sir.

АСТ II.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.-Rome. A public Place. Enter MEnenius,
SICINIUS, and BRUTUS.
Menenius.

THE augurer tells me, we shall have news to-night.
Bru. Good, or bad?

Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius.

Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends
Men. Pray you, who does the wolf love?

Sic. The lamb.

Men. Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius.

Bru. He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear. Men. He's a bear, indeed, that lives like a lamb. You are two old men; tell me one thing that I shall ask you.

To mischief him, my valour should deviate from its own native generosity,

12] In my own house, with my brother posted to protect him. s1 Attended----that is, waited for. STEEVENS.

JOHNSON.
JOHNSON.

4] When the tribune, in reply to Menenius's remark, of the people's hate of Coriolanus, had observed that even beasts know their friends, Menenius asks, whom does the wolf love? implying that there are beasts which love nobody, and that among those beasts are the people.

JOHNSON.

Both Trib. Well, sir.

Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor, that have not in abundance?

you two

Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all.
Sic. Especially, in pride.

Bru. And topping all others in boasting.

Men. This is strange now: Do you two know how you are censured here in the city, I mean of us o' the right-hand file? Do you?

Both Trib. Why, how are we censur'd?

Men. Because you talk of pride now,-Will you not be angry ?

Both Trib. Well, well, sir, well.

Men. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience : give your disposition the reins, and be angry at your pleasures; at the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you, in being so. You blame Marcius for being proud?

Bru. We do it not alone, sir.

Men. I know, you can do very little alone; for your helps are many; or else your actions would grow wondrous single your abilities are too infant-like, for doing much alone. You talk of pride: O, that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks,' and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O, that you

could!

Bru. What then, sir?

Men. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates (alias, fools,) as any in Rome.

Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough too.

Men. I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in't; said to be something imperfect, in favouring the first complaint: hasty, and tinder-like, upon too trivial motion: one that converses more with the buttock of the night, than with the forehead of the morning. What I think, I utter; and spend my malice in my breath: Meeting two such weals-men as you are, (I cannot call you Lycurguses,) if the drink you gave me, touch my palate adversely, I make a crooked

6

[5] With allusion to the fable, which says, that every man has a bag hanging before him, in which he puts his neighbour's faults, and another behind him, in which he stows his own. JOHNSON.

[6] Rather a late lier down, than an early riser.

JOHNSON.

face at it. I cannot say, your worships have delivered the matter well, when I find the ass in compound with the major part of your syllables: and though I must be content to bear with those that say you are reverend grave men; yet they lie deadly, that tell, you have good faces. If you see this in the map of my microcosm, follows it, that I am known well enough too? What harm can your bisson conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too?

Bru. Come, sir, come, we know you well enough.

Men. You know neither me, yourselves, nor any thing. You are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs; you wear out a good wholesome forenoon, in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and a fosset-seller; and then rejourn the controversy of three-pence to a second day of audience. When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you chance to be pinched with the colic, you make faces like mummers; set up the bloody flag against all patience;' and, in roaring for a chamber-pot, dismiss the controversy bleeding, the more intangled by your hearing all the peace you make in their cause, is, calling both the parties knaves: You are a pair of strange ones.

Bru. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table, than a necessary bencher in the Capitol.

Men. Our very priests must become mockers, if they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are When you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging of your beards; and your beards deserve not so honourable a grave, as to stuff a botcher's cushion, or to be entombed in an ass's pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors, since Deucalion; though, peradventure, some of the best of them were hereditary hangmen. Good e'en to your worships; more of your conversation would infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians; I will be bold to take my leave of you. [BRUTUS and SICINIUS retire to the back of the scene.

[8] That is, for their obeisance showed by bowing to you. MALONE. [9] It appears from this whole speech that Shakespeare mistook the office of præfectus urbis for the tribune's office. WARBURTON.

[1] That is, declare war against patience. There is not wit enough in this satire to recompense its grossness. JOHNSON.

Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, VALERIA, &c.

How now, my as fair as noble ladies, (and the moon, were she earthly, no nobler,) whither do you follow your eyes so fast? Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius ap、 proaches; for the love of Juno, let's go.

Men. Ha! Marcius coming home?

Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosperous approbation.

Men. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee :-Hoo! Marcius coming home!

Two Ladies. Nay, 'tis true.

Vol. Look, here's a letter from him; the state hath another, his wife another; and, I think, there's one at home for you.

Men. I will make my very house reel to-night :—A letter for me?

Vir. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you ; I saw it. Men. A letter for me? It gives me an estate of seven year's health; in which time I will make a lip at the physician the most sovereign prescription in Galen is but empiricutic, and, to this preservative, of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded.

:

Vir. O, no, no, no.

Vol. O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't.

Men. So do I too, if it be not too much :-Brings a' victory in his pocket ?-The wounds become him.

Vol. On's brows, Menenius: he comes the third time home with the oaken garland.

Men. Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly?

Vol. Titus Lartius writes,-they fought together, but Aufidius got off.

Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that: an he had staid by him, I would not have been so fidius'd for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold that's in them. Is the senate possessed of this ??

Vol. Good ladies, let's go :-Yes, yes, yes: the senate has letters from the general, wherein he gives my son the whole name of the war: he hath in this action outdone his former deeds doubly.

Val. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him. Men. Wondrous ? ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing.

[2] Possessed, in our author's language, is fully informed.

JOHNSON.

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