Methinks I hear hither your Husband's Drum:
I fee him pluck Aufidius down by th' Hairs
(As Children from a Bear) the Volfcies fhunning him:
Methinks I fee him ftamp thus and call thus
Come on, ye Cowards, ye were got in fear

Though you were born in Rome; his bloody Brow,
With his mail'd Hand, then wiping, forth he goes
Like to a Harvest-Man, that's task'd to mow,
Or all, or lose his hire.

Vir. His bloody Brow! Oh Jupiter, no Blood.
Vol. Away, you Fool; it more becomes a Man
Than gilt his Trophy. The Breaft of Hecuba,
When the did fuckle Hector, look'd not lovelier
Than Hector's Forehead, when it fpit forth Blood
At Grecian Swords contending; tell Valeria
We are fit to bid her Welcome

1917

[Exit Gent Vir. Heav'ns blefs my Lord from fell Aufidius. Vol. He'll beat Aufidius's Head below his Knee, And tread upon his Neck.

Enter Valeria with an Usher, and a Gentlewomani Val. My Ladies both, good Day to you.

Vol. Sweet Madam

Vir. I am glad to fee your Ladifhip

Val. How do you both? You are manifeft House-keep ers. What are you fewing here? A fine fpot in good faith. How does your little Son?

Vir. I thank your Ladifhip: Well, good Madam.

Vol. He had rather fee the Swords, and hear a Drum, than look upon his School-mafter.

Val. A my Word, the Father's Son: I'll fwear 'tis a very pretty Boy. A my troth I look'd on him a Wednesday half an hour together----h'as fuch a confin'd Countenance. I faw him run after a gilded Butterfly, and when he caught it, he let it go again, and after it again, and over and over he comes, and up again, and caught it again; or whether his fall enrag'd him, or how 'twas, he did fo fet his Teeth and did tear it. Oh, I warrant you he mammockt its Vol. One o's Father's Moods.

Val. Indeed la, 'tis a Noble Child.

Vir. A Crack, Madam.

Val. Come, lay afide your ftitchery, I must have you play the idle Hufwife with me this Afternoon.

Pirs

Vit. No, good Madam, I will not out of Doors.

Val. Not out of Doors?

Vol. She fhall, the fhall.

Vir. Indeed no, by your patience; I'll not over the Thref hold, 'till my Lord return from the Wars.

Val. Fie, you confine your felf unreasonably: Come, you must go vifit the good Lady that lyes in. Vir. I will with her fpeedy Strength, and vifit her with my Prayers, but I cannot go thither.

Vol. Why, I pray you?

Vir. 'Tis not to fave Labour, nor that I want Love. Val. You would be another Penelope; yet thay fay, all the Yarn fhe spun in Ulyffes's abfence, did but fill Ithaca full of Maths. Come, I would your Cambrick were fenfible as your Finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity. Come, you fhall go with us.

Vir. No, good Madam, pardon me, indeed I will not forth.

Val. In truth la, go with me, and I'll tell you excellent News of your Husband.

Vir. Oh, good Madam, there can be none yet.

Val. Verily I do not jeft with you; there came News from him laft Night.

Vir. Indeed Madam

Val. In earneft it's true, I heard a Senator fpeak it. Thus it is---the Volfcies have an Army forth, against whom Cominius the General is gone, with one part of our Roman Power. Your Lord, and Titus Lartius are fet down before their City Coriolus, they nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief Wars. This is true, on my Honour, and fo, I pray, go with us

Vir. Give me excufe, good Madam, I will obey you in every thing hereafter.

Vol. Let her alone, Lady, as fhe is now,

She will but disease our better Mirth.

Val. In troth, I think the would:

well then.

Fare you well then.

Come, good fweet Lady.

Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy folemnefs out a Door,

And go along with us.

Virg. No:

At a word, Madam; indeed I must not,

I wish you Mirth,

Val. Well, then Farewel.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The Walls of Coriolus.

Enter Martius, Titus Lartius, with Drum and Colours, with Captains and Soldiers: To them a Meffenger.

Mar. Yonder comes News:

A Wager they have met.

Lart. My Horfe to yours, no.

Mar. 'Tis done.

Lart. Agreed.

Mar. Say, has our General met the Enemy?
Mef. They lye in view; but have not spoke as yet.
Lart. So, the good Horfe is mine,

Mart. I'll buy him of you.

Lart. No, Fll not fell, nor give him: Lend him you, I will, For half an hundred Years: Summon the Town.

Mar. How far off lye thefe Armies?

Mef. Within a Mile and half.

Mar. Then shall we hear their Larum, and they Ours, Now Mars, I prithee make us quick in work;

That we with fmoaking Swords may march from hence,
To help our fielded Friends. Come, blow the blast.

They found a Parley. Enter two Senators with others on the Walls.
Tullus Aufidius is he within your Walls?

1 Senat. No, nor a Man that fears you lefs than he, That's leffer than a little:

Hark, our Drums

[Drum afar off.

Are bringing forth our Youth: We'll break our Walls Rather than they fhall pound us up; our Gates, Which yet feem fhut, we have but pinn'd with Rufhes, They'll open of themfelves. Hark you far off.

[Alarum far off.

There is Aufidius. Lift, what work he makes

Amongst your cloven Army.

Mar. Oh, they are at it.

Lart. Their noise be our inftru&tion. Ladders, ho.

Enter

Enter the Volícies.

Mar. They fear us not, but iffue forth their City. Now put your Shields before your Hearts, and fight With Hearts more proof than Shields.

Advance, brave Titus,

They do dildain us much beyond our Thoughts,
Which makes me fweat with Wrath. Come on, my Fellows;
He that retires, I'll take him for a Volfcie,

And he shall feel mine Edge.

Alarum; the Romans are beat back to their Trenches.
Enter Martius.

Mar. All the contagion of the South light on you,
You fhames of Rome; you Herds of Biles and Plagues,
Plaifter you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd
Farther than feen, and one infect another

Against the Wind a Mile: You Souls of Geese,
That bear the fhapes of Men, how have you run
From Slaves, that Apes would beat? Pluto and Hell!
All hurt behind, Backs red, and Faces pale
With flight and agued fear? mend, and charge home,
Or by the Fires of Heav'n, I'll leave the Foe,
And make my Wars on you: Look to't, come on;
If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their Wives,
As they us to our Ttenches followed.

Another Alarum, and Martius follows them to

the Gates, and is shut in.

So, now the Gates are ope: Now prove good Seconds. 'Tis for the Followers, Fortune widens them,

Not for the Fliers: Mark me, and do the like.

Sol. Fool-hardiness, not I.

2 Sol. Nor I.

Sot. See, they have fhut him in. All. To th' pot, I warrant him.

[He Enters the Gates

[Alarum continues.

Enter Titus Lartius.

Lart. What is become of Martius?

All. Slain, Sir, doubtless.

1 Sol. Following the fliers at the very Heels, With them he enters; who upon the fudden Clapt to their Gates: he is himfelf alone,

To answer all the City.

Lart

Lart. Oh noble Fellow!

Who fenfibly out-dares his fenfeless Sword,

And when it bows, ftands up: Thou art left, Martins
A Carbuncle intire, as big as thou art,

Were not fo rich a Jewel. Thou waft a Soldier
Even to Calvus with, not fierce and terrible
Only in ftroaks, but with thy grim looks, and
The Thunder-like percuffion of the Sounds,
Thou mad'ft thine Enemies fhake, as if the World
Were feaverous, and did tremble.

Enter Martius bleeding, assaulted by the Enemy.

I Sol. Look, Sir.

Lart. O, 'tis Martius.

Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike. i

[They fight, and all enter the City.

Enter certain Romans with Spoils.

1 Rom. This will I carry to Rome,

2 Rom. And I this.

3

Rom, A Murrain on't, I took this for Silver. [Exeunt.

$

[Alarum continues ftill afar off

Enter Martius and Titus Lartius, with a Trumpét.

Mar. See here thefe Movers, that do prize their Hours At a crack'd Drachm: Cushions, leadén Spoons, Irons of a Doit, Doublets that Hangmen would Bury with those that wore them, these base Slaves, E'er yet the Fight be done, pack up; down with them. And hark, what noife the General makes! To him, There is the Man of my Soul's hate, Aufidius, Piercing our Romans: Then Valiant Titus take Convenient Numbers to make good the City, Whilft I, with thofe that have the Spirit, will hafte To help Cominius.

Lart. Worthy Sir, thou bleed'ft ; Thy Exercife hath been too violent

For a fecond Course of Fight.

Mar. Sir, praise me not:

My Work hath yet not warm'd me. Fare you well:

The Blood I drop, is rather Phyfical

Than dangerous to me. To Aufidius, thus I will appear

Mart. Now the fair Goddess Fortune

(and fight.

Fall deep in Love with thee, and her great Charms

VOL. IV.

Cc

Mif