perfecter gyber for the table, than a neceffary bencher in the capitol.

Men. Our very priests must become mockers, if they fhall encounter fuch ridiculous fubjects as you are; when you fpeak beft unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging of your beards; and your beards deferve not fo honourable a grave, as to ftuff a botcher's cushion, or to be intomb'd in an afs's pack-faddle. Yet you must be faying, Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap eftimation, (12) is worth all your predeceffors fince Deu salion; though, peradventure, fome of the best of them were hereditary hangmen. Good e'en to your worships more of your converfation would infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beaftly plebeians. I will be bold to take my leave of you. [Brutus and Sicinius ftand afide.

As Menenius is going out, Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria.

How now my (as fair as noble) Ladies, and the moon, were the earthly, no nobler; whither do you follow your eyes fo faft?

Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches for the love of Juno, let's go.

Men. Ha! Marcius coming home?

Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius, and with most profperous - approbation.

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

Both. Nay, 'tis true.

Vol. Look, here's a letter from him, the ftate hath

(12)-who, in a cheap eftimation, is worth all your predeceffors finer Deucalion, tho' peradventure, fome of the best of them were hereditary hangmen.] I won't pretend to affirm, this is an imitation of the clofe of Juvenal's 8th fatire; though it has very much the fame caft, only exceeds it, I think, in humour, and poignancy of fatire.

Et tamen ut longè repetas, longéque revolvas
Nomen, ab infami gentem deducis afylo:
Majorum primus quifquis fuit ille tuorum,
Aut pafter fuit, aut illud quod dicere nolo

another,

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 4 letter for me!

Vir. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you, I faw't.

Men. A letter for me it gives me an estate of seven years health; in which time I will make a lip at the phyfician; the moft fovereign prefcription in Galen is but empiric, and to this prefervative of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded.

Vir. Oh no, no, no.

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

Men. So do I too, if he be not too much; brings a'victory in his pocket? the wounds become him.

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

Men. Hath he difciplin'd Aufidius foundly?

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

Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that if he had ftaid by him, I would not have been fo fidius'd for all the chefts in Corioli, and the gold that's in them. Is the Senate poffeft of this?

Vol. Good Ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes: the Senate has letters from the General, wherein he gives my fon the whole name of the war: heath in this action out-done his former deeds doubly,

Val. In troth, there's wondrous things fpoke of him. Men. Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchafing.

Vir. The gods grant them true!

Vol. True? pow, waw.

Men. True? I'll be fworn, they are true. Where is he wounded?-God fave your good worships; Marcius is coming home; he has more caufe to be proud: where is he wounded?

[To the Tribunes. Vol. I' th' fhoulder, and i' th' left arm; there will be large cicatrices to fhew the people when he fhall ftand

for

for his place. He receiv'd in the repulfe of Tarquin feven hurts i' th' body. (13)

Men. One i' th' neck, and one too i' th' thigh; there's nine, that I know.

Vol. He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five wounds upon him.

Men. Now 'tis twenty feven; every gafh was an ene my's grave. Hark, the trumpets.

1

[A fhout and flourish. Vol. These are the ufhers of Marcius; before him he carries noife, and behind him he leaves tears:

Death, that dark fpirit, in's nervy arm doth lie:

Which being advanc'd, declines, and then men die.

Trumpets found. Enter Cominius the General, and Titus
Lartius; between them Coriolanus, crown'd with an
oaken garland, with Captains and Soldiers, and a Herald.
Her. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight
Within Corioli gates, where he hath won,
With fame, a name to Caius Marcius.
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!

[Sound. Flourish.

All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus ! Cor. No more of this, it does offend my heart; Pray now, no more.

Com. Look, Sir, your mother,

Cor. Oh!

You have, I know, petition'd all the gods

For my profperity.

Vol. Nay, my good foldier, up:
My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and
By deed-atchieving honour newly nam'd,

[Kneels.

(13) He receiv'd, in the repulfe of Tarquin, feven burts ? th' body. Men. One i' th' neck, and two i' th' thigh: there's nine that I know.] Seven, one, and two, and these make but nine? furely, we may with fafety affift Menenius in his arithmetick. This is a ftupid blunder; but wherever we can account by a probable reafon for the cause of it, that directs the emendation. Here it was easy for a negligent tranfcriber to omit the fecond one as a needlefs repetition of the first, and to make a numeral word of too.

Mr. Warburton.
What

What is it, Coriolanus, must I call thee?

But oh, thy wife

Cor. My gracious filence, hail;

Would't thou have laugh'd, had I come coffin'd home,
That weep'ft to fee me triumph? ah, my dear,
Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear,

And mothers that lack fons.

Men. Now the gods crown thee!

Cor. And live you yet? O my fweet Lady, pardon. [To Valeria. Vol. I know not where to turn. O welcome home; And welcome, General! y'are welcome all.

Men. A hundred thousand welcomes: I could weep, And I could laugh, I'm light and heavy ;-welcome! A curfe begin at very root on's heart,

That is not glad to fee thee-You are three,

That Rome should doat on: yet, by the faith of men,
We've fome old crab-trees here at home, that will not
Be grafted to your relish. Welcome, warriors!
We call a nettle, but a nettle; and

The faults of fools, but folly.

Com. Ever right.

Car. Menenius, ever, ever.
Her. Give way there, and

go on.

Cor. Your hand, and yours.

Ere in our own house I do fhade my head,

The good patricians must be vifited;

(14) From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings,

(14) From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings,

But

But, with them, change of bonours.] Change of honours is a very poor expreffion, and communicates but a very poor idea. I have ventur'd to fubftitute, charge; i. e. a fresh charge or commiffion. These words are frequently mistaken for each other. So, afterwards, in this play ;

To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' th' air,
And yet to change thy fulphur with a bolt,
That should but rive an oak.

For here we must likewife correct, charge.

And fo in Anth. and Cleopat.

Oh,

But, with them, charge of honours.

Vol. I have lived,

To see inherited my very wishes,

And buildings of my fancy; only one thing
Is wanting, which, I doubt not, but our Rome
Will cast upon thee.

Cor. Know, good mother, I

Had rather be their fervant in my way,

Than fway with them in theirs.

Com. On, to the capitol.

[Flourish. Cornets.

[Exeunt in State, as before.

Brutus, and Sicinius, come forward.

Bru. All tongues fpeak of him, and the bleared fights Are fpectacled to fee him. Your pratling nurse

Into a rapture lets her baby cry,

While the chats him: the kitchen malkin pins

Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck,

Clambring the walls to eye him; ftalls, bulks, windows,
Are fmother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges hors'd
With variable complexions; all agreeing

In earnestness to fee him: feld-fhown Flamins
Do prefs among the popular throngs, and puff
To win a vulgar ftation; our veil'd dames
Commit the war of white and damask, in
Their nicely-gauded cheeks, to th' wanton fpoll
Of Phoebus' burning kiffes; fuch a pother,
As if that whatfoever god, who leads him,
Were lily crept into his human powers,
And gave him graceful pofture.

Sic. On the fudden,

I warrant him conful.

Oh, that I knew this husband, which, you say, must change his horns with garlands!

Here likewife we must read, charge, i. e. put garlands upon his horns. In the Maid's Tragedy, (by Beaumont and Fletcher) charge is vice verfa printed in all the editions inftead of change.

For we were wont to charge our fouls in talk.

This, 'tis evident, is nonfenfe; but friends, by the communication of their thoughts to each other, are finely faid to exchange fouls in

talk,

Bru.