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Leave this faint puling, and lament as I do,
In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come.
Men. Fye, fye, fye!

SCENE III.

[Exeunt.

A Highway between Rome and Antium.

Enter a Roman and a Volce, meeting.

Rom. I know you well, sir, and you know me: your name, I think, is Adrian.

Vol. It is so, sir: truly, I have forgot you. Rom. I am a Roman; and my services are, as you are, against them: Know you me yet? Vol. Nicanor? No.

Rom. The same, sir.

Vol. You had more beard, when I last saw you; but your favour is well appayed1 by your tongue. What's the news in Rome? I have a note from the Volcian state, to find you out there: You have well saved me a day's journey.

Rom. There hath been in Rome strange insurrection: the people against the senators, patricians, and nobles.

Vol. Hath been! Is it ended then? Our state

1 The old copy reads, "Your favour is well appeared by your tongue.' For the emendation in the text I am answerable. Warburton proposed appealed; Johnson, affeared; Steevens, approved; and Malone thought the old reading might be right. No phrase is more common in our elder language than well appaied, i. e. satisfied, contented. The Volcian means to say, 'Your countenance is altered, but your voice perfectly satisfies me.'

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They buy thy help: but sin ne'er gives a fee,

He gratis comes; and thou art well appay'd,

As well to hear as grant what he hath said.'

Shakspeare's Rape of Lucrece.

'Glad in his heart, and inly well appay'd,
That to his court so great a lord was brought.'

Fairfax, Tasso, ix. 5.

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thinks not so; they are in a most warlike prepa ration, and hope to come upon them in the heat of their division.

Rom. The main blaze of it is past, but a small thing would make it flame again. For the nobles receive so to heart the banishment of that worthy Coriolanus, that they are in a ripe aptness, to take all power from the people, and to pluck from them their tribunes for ever. This lies glowing, I can

tell

you, and is almost mature for the violent breaking out.

Vol. Coriolanus banished?

Rom. Banished, sir.

Vol. You will be welcome with this intelligence, Nicanor.

Rom. The day serves well for them now. I have heard it said, the fittest time to corrupt a man's wife, is when she's fallen out with her husband. Your noble Tullus Aufidius will appear well in these wars, his great opposer, Coriolanus, being now in no request of his country.

Vol. He cannot choose. I am most fortunate, thus accidentally to encounter you: You have ended my business, and I will merrily accompany you home.

Rom. I shall, between this and supper, tell you most strange things from Rome; all tending to the good of their adversaries. Have you an army ready, say you?

Vol. A most royal one: the centurions, and their charges, distinctly billeted, already in the enter tainment, and to be on foot at an hour's warning.

Rom. I am joyful to hear of their readiness, and am the man, I think, that shall set them in present action. So, sir, heartily well met, and most glad of your company.

2 i. e. taken into pay.

Vol. You take my part from me, sir; I have

the most cause to be glad of

yours.

Rom. Well, let us go together.

SCENE IV.

Antium. Before Aufidius's House.

[Exeunt.

Enter CORIOLANUS, in mean Apparel, disguised and muffled.

Cor. A goodly city is this Antium: City, 'Tis I that made thy widows; many an heir Of these fair edifices 'fore my wars

Have I heard groan, and drop: then know me not; Lest that thy wives with spits, and boys with stones, Enter a Citizen.

In puny battle slay me. -Save you, sir.

Cit. And you.

Cor.
Direct me, if it be your will,
Where great Aufidius lies: Is he in Antium?

Cit. He is, and feasts the nobles of the state,
At his house this night.

Cor.

Which is his house, 'beseech you?
you.

Cit. This, here, before

Cor.

Thank you, sir; farewell.
[Exit Citizen.

O, world, thy slippery turns1! Friends now fast

sworn,

Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart,
Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal, and exercise,
Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love
Unseparable, shall within this hour,

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This fine picture of common friendship is an artful introduction to the sudden league which the poet makes him enter into with Aufidius, and a no less artful apology for his commencing enemy to Rome.'-Warburton.

On a dissension of a doit, break out
To bitterest enmity; So, fellest foes,

Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep

To take the one the other, by some chance,
Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends,
And interjoin their issues. So with me:-

My birth-place hate I, and my love's upon
This enemy town.-I'll enter: if he slay me,
He does fair justice; if he give me way,
I'll do his country service.

The same.

SCENE V.

A Hall in Aufidius's House.

Musick within. Enter a Servant.

[Exit.

1 Serv. Wine, wine, wine! What service is here! I think our fellows are asleep.

Enter another Servant.

[Exit.

2 Serv. Where's Cotus! my master calls for him.

Cotus!

Enter CORIOLANUS.

[Exit.

Cor. A goodly house: The feast smells well: but I

Appear not like a guest.

Re-enter the first Servant.

1 Serv. What would you have, friend? Whence are you? Here's no place for you: Pray, go to the

door.

Cor. I have deserv'd no better entertainment, In being Coriolanus 1.

1 i. e. in having derived that surname from the sack of Corioli.

Re-enter second Servant.

2 Serv. Whence are you, sir? Has the porter eyes in his head, that he gives entrance to such companions? Pray, get you out.

his

Cor. Away!

2 Serv. Away? Get you away.

Cor. Now thou art troublesome.

2 Serv. Are you so brave? I'll have you talked with anon.

Enter a third Servant. The first meets him. 3 Serv. What fellow's this?

1 Serv. A strange one as ever I looked on: I cannot get him out o'the house: Pr'ythee, call my master to him.

3 Serv. What have you to do here, fellow? Pray you, avoid the house.

Cor. Let me but stand; I will not hurt your hearth.

3 Serv. What are you?

Cor. A gentleman.

3 Serv. A marvellous poor one.

Cor. True, so I am.

3 Serv. Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other station; here's no place for you; pray you, avoid: come.

Cor. Follow your function, go!

And batten on cold bits.

[Pushes him away.

3 Serv. What, will you not? Pr'ythee, tell my

master what a strange guest he has here.

2 Serv. And I shall.

3 Serv. Where dwellest thou?

Cor. Under the canopy.

3 Sery. Under the canopy?

[Exit.

2 Feed.

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