SCENE VII.-The Gates of Corioli. TITUS LARTIUS, having set a guard upon Corioli, going with drum and trumpet toward COMINIUS and CAIUS MARCIUS, enters with a Lieutenant, a party of Soldiers, and a Scout.

LART. So, let the ports be guarded: keep your duties,

As I have set them down. If I do send, dispatch
Those centuries to our aid; the rest will serve
For a short holding: if we lose the field,
We cannot keep the town.

LIEU.
Fear not our care, sir.
LART. Hence, and shut your gates upon us.-
Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct
[Exeunt.

us.

Thou'lt not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it,
Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles;
Where great patricians shall attend, and shrug,
I' the end, admire; where ladies shall be frighted,
And, gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dull
tribunes,

That, with the fusty plébeians, hate thine honours, Shall say, against their hearts,-We thank the gods,

Our Rome hath such a soldier !—
Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast,
Having fully din'd before.

When steel grows soft as the parasite's silk,
Let him be made an overture for the wars ! a
No
more, I say
! For that I have not wash'd
My nose that bled, or foil'd some debile wretch,—
Which, without note, here's many else have
done,-

You shout *
me forth in acclamations hyperbolical;
As if I lov'd my little should be dieted
In praises sauc'd with lies.

manacles,

COM. Too modest are you; More cruel to your good report, than grateful To us that give you truly: by your patience, If 'gainst yourself you be incens'd, we'll put you (Like one that means his proper harm) in [known, Then reason safely with you.-Therefore, be it As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius Wears this war's garland: in token of the which, My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him, With all his trim belonging; and from this time, For what he did before Corioli, call him, With all the applause and clamour of the host, CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS! +-Bear The addition nobly ever!

[Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums. ALL. Caius Marcius Coriolanus !+ COR. I will go wash;

And when my face is fair, you shall perceive
Whether I blush, or no: howbeit I thank you :-
I mean to stride your steed; and at all times,
To undercrest your good addition
To the fairness of my power.
Сом.
So, to our tent;
Where, ere we do repose us, we will write
To Rome of our success.-You, Titus Lartius,
Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome
The best, with whom we may articulate,
For their own good and ours.
LART.
I shall,
my
lord.
COR. The gods begin to mock me.
I that now

(*) Old text, shoot.

(†) Old text, Marcus Caius Coriolanus. when drums and trumpets shall

I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be
Made all of false-fac'd soothing!

When steel grows soft as the parasite's silk,
Let him be made an overture for the wars!]

In the last line of this much-controverted passage, Warburton proposed,

"Let hymns be made an overture for the wars," Tyrwhitt would read,

"Let this [that is, silk] be made a coverture for the wars;"

Refus'd most princely gifts, am bound to beg
Of my lord general.
Сом.

Take it 'tis yours.

What is 't?

COR. I sometime lay here in Corioli
At a poor man's house; he us'd me kindly :
He cried 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?

"Let it be made a coverture for the wars."

If an alteration be absolutely needed, that of "a coverture" for "an overture," understanding "him" to be used for the neuter it, is the least objectionable; but we are strongly disposed to think that "overture," if not a misprint for ovation, is employed here in the same sense, and that the meaning is,-When steel grows soft as the parasite's silk, let him be made, i. e. let there be made for him, a triumph, as for a successful warrior. bhis proper harm)-] His peculiar or personal harm.

e The best, with whom we may articulate,-] The chief personages of Corioli, with whom we may enter into articles.

AUF. Bolder, though 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

a Embarquements-] That is, embargoes, or impediments. hAt home, upon my brother's guard,-] At my own house, under the protection of my brother.

Enter MENENIUS, SICINIUS, and BRUTUS.

MEN. 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 two are old men: tell me one thing that I shall ask you.

BOTH TRI. Well, sir.

MEN. In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two have not in abundance?

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. Why, how are we censured?

MEN. Because you talk of pride now,-will you not be angry?

Bотн. 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 dispositions 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 toward the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O, that you could! BRU, What then, sir?