Throng our large temples with the fhews of peace,
And not our ftreets with war!

I Sen. Amen, amen.
Men. A noble with.

Enter the Edile with the Plebeians.

Sic. Draw near, ye people.

Ed. Lift to your tribunes: audience;

Peace, I fay.'

Cor. First, hear me fpeak.

Both Tri. Well, fay: peace, ho.

Cor. Shall I be charg'd no farther than this prefent? Must all determine here?

Sic. I do demand,

If you

fubmit you to the people's voices, Allow their officers, and are content

To fuffer lawful cenfure for fuch faults
As fhall be prov'd upon you?

Cor. I am content.

Men. Lo, citizens, he fays, he is content:
The warlike fervice he has done, confider;

Think on the wounds his body bears, which fhew
Like graves i' th' holy church-yard.

Cor. Scratches with briars, scars to move laughter only.
Men. Confider further:

That when he speaks not like a citizen,

You find him like a foldier; (31) do not take

His rougher accents for malicious founds:

or understood, that can govern the latter part of the fentence. I have no doubt of my emendation reftoring the text rightly, because Mr. Warburton ftarted the fame conjecture, unknowing that I had meddled with the paffage.

(31)

-do not take

His rougher actions for malicious founds :] I have no manner of apprehenfion how a man's actions can be mistaken for words. It would be very abfurd, as well as extraordinary, were I to do a faucy thing in company, for the perfon offended to tell me, Sir, you give me very impudent language. This would be, certainly, taking actions for founds: We may remember, a roughness of accent was one of Coriolanus's diftinguishing characteristicks. I corrected this paffage in the appendix to my SHAKESPEARE reflor'd, and Mr. Pope has embraced it in his last edition.

But,.

But, as I fay, fuch as become a foldier.
Rather than envy, you-

Com. Well, well, no more.

Cor. What is the matter,

That being paft for conful with full voice,
I'm fo dishonour'd, that the very hour
You take it off again?

Sic. Answer to us.

Cor. Say then 'tis true, I ought fo.

Sic. We charge you, that you have contriv'd to take From Rome all season'd office, and to wind

Yourself unto a power tyrannical;

For which you are a traitor to the people..
Cor. How? traitor?

Men. Nay, temperately: your promife.

Cor. The fire's i' th' loweft hell fold in the people! Call me their traitor! thou injurious tribune! Within thine eyes fate twenty thoufand deaths, In thy hands clutch'd as many millions, in Thy lying tongue both numbers; I would fay, Thou lieft, unto thee, with a voice as free,, As I do pray the gods.

Sic. Mark you this, people?

All. To th' rock with him..
Sic. Peace:

We need not put new matter to his charge:
What you have seen him do, and heard him speak,.
Beating your officers, curfing yourselves,
Oppofing laws with ftrokes, and here defying
Those whofe great power muft try him, even this
So criminal, and in fuch capital kind,,

Deferves th' extreameft death..

Bru. But fince he hath

Serv'd well for Rome

Cor. What do you prate of fervice?
Bru. I talk of that, that know it.

Cor. You?——

Men. Is this the promise that you made your mother?
Gom. Know, I pray you-

Cor. I'll know no farther:

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 ministers
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 so.

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 friendsSic. 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,
More holy, and profound, than mine own life,
My dear wife's estimate, her womb's increase,
And treasure of my loins: then if I would
Speak that-

(32) I have been 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'st thou foxfhip

To banish him, that ftruck more blows for Rome,
Than thou haft spoken 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 shall 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. Despifing then
For you, the city, thus I turn my back:
There is a world elsewhere

[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 banifh'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 preserve our noble tribunes!-come.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE, before the Gates of Rome.

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

C

CORIOLANUS.

Ome, leave your tears: a brief farewel: the beast'
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 most struck 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 perish.

Cor. What! what! what!:

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

Six of his labours you'd have done, and fav'd
Your husband fo much sweat. Cominius,

Droop not; adieu: farewel, my wife! my mother!:
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 these fad women,
'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes,

As