Már. Five Tribunes to defend their vulgar Wisdoms,
Of their own choice. One's Junius Brutus,
Sicinius Velutus, and I know not. S'death,
The Rabble fhould have first unrooft the City
E'er fo prevail'd with me; it will in time.

Win upon Power, and throw forth greater Themes
For Infurrections arguing.

Men. This is ftrange.

Mar. Go get you home, you Fragments.
Enter a Messenger.

Mef. Where's Caius Martius?

Mar. Here-what's the Matter?

Mef. The News is, Sir, the Volfcies are in Arms. Mar. I am glad on't, then we fhall have means to vent Our musty fuperfluity. See, our beft EldersEnter Sicinius Velutus, Junius Brutus, Cominius, Titus Lartius, with other Senators.

I Sen. Martius, 'tis true, that you have lately told us, The Volfcies are in Arms.

Mar. They have a Leader,

Tullius Aufidius, that will put you to't.
I fin in envying his Nobility:

And were I any thing but what I am,

I could with me only he.

Com. You have fought together?

Mar. Were half to half the World by th' Ears, and he Upon my Party, I'd revolt, to make

Only my Wars with him. He is a Lion

That I am proud to hunt.

I Sen. Then worthy Martius,

Attend upon Cominius to thefe Wars.

Com. It is your former promile.
Mar. Sir, it is;

And I am conftant: Titus Lartius, thou

Shalt fee me once more strike at Tullus's Face.

What, art thou ftiff? Stand'ft out?

Tit. No, Caius Martins,

I'll lean upon one Crutch, and fight with t'other;

E'er ftay behind this Bufinefs.

Men. Oh true bred.

1 Sen. Your Company to th' Capitol; where I know Our greatest Friends attend us.

Tit. Lead you on; follow Cominius, we muft follow you, right worthy your Priority.

Com. Noble Martius.

1 Sen. Hence to your Homes-be gone. [To the Citizens, Mar. Let them follow,

The Volfcies have much Corn: take thefe Rats thither
To gnaw their Garners. Worshipful Mutineers,
Your Valour puts well forth; pray follow.

Exeunt.

[Citizens fteal away. Manent Sicinius and Brutus. Sic. Was ever Man fo proud as is this Martins? Bru. He has no equal.

Sic. When we were chofen Tribunes for the People-
Bru. Mark'd you his Lip and Eyes?

Sic. Nay, but his Taunts.

Bru. Being mov'd, he will not fpare to gird the Gods. Sic. Be-mock the modeft Moon.

Bru. The prefent Wars devour him, he is grown Too proud to be fo valiant.

Sic. Such a Nature, tickled with good Succefs, difdairs the Shadow which he treads on at Noon, but I do wonder, his Infolence can brook to be commanded under Cominius? Bru. Fame, at the which he aims,

In whom already he is well grac'd, cannot
Better be held, nor more attain'd than by
A place below the firft; for what mifcarries
Shall be the General's fault, tho' he perform
To the utmost of a Man; and giddy cenfure
Will then cry out of Martius: Oh, if he
Had born the Bufinefs-

Sic. Befides, if things go well,

Opinion, that so sticks on Martius, shall

Of his demerits rob Cominius.

Bru. Come; half all Cominius's Honours àre to Martins, Though Martins earn'd them not; and all his Faults

To Martius fhall be Honours, though indeed

In ought he merit not.

Sic. Let's hence, and hear

How the difpatch is made, and in what fashion,
More than his fingularity, he goes

Upon this prefent Action.

Br

Bru. Let's along.

SCENE II. Coriolus.

[Exeunt

Enter Tullus Aufidius with Senators of Coriolus.

I Sen. So, your Opinion is, Aufidius,

That they of Rome are entred in our Counsels,
And know how we proceed.

Auf. Is it not yours?

What ever hath been thought on in this State
That could be brought to bodily act, e'er Rome
Had Circumvention? 'tis not four Days gone
Since I heard thence---the fe are the Words-.--I think
I have the Letter here, yes-here it is;
They have preft a Power, but it is not known
Whether for Eaft or Weft; the Dearth is great,
The People Mutinous; and it is rumour'd

Cominius, Martius your old Enemy,

(Who is of Rome worse hated than of you)
And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman,
Thefe three lead on this Preparation.
Whither 'tis bent-moft likely, 'tis for you:
Confider of it.

1 Sen. Our Army's in the Field:

We never yet made doubt, but Rome is ready
To answer us.

Auf. Nor did you think it folly

To keep your great pretences veil'd, 'till when

They needs muft fhew themselves, which in the hatching It feem'd appear'd to Rome. By the discovery,

We fhall be shortned in our Aim, which was

To take in many Towns, e'er (almost) Rome
Should know we are a-foot.

2 Sen. Noble Aufidius,

Take your Commiffion, hie you to your Bands,
Let us alone to guard Coriolus,

If they fet down before's: for the remove
Bring up your Army: But, I think, you'll find
They've not prepar'd for us.

Auf. O, doubt not that,

I fpeak from Certainties. Nay more,
Some parcels of their Power are forth already,

And

And only hitherward. I leave your Honours.
If we and Cains Martius chance to meet,
'Tis fworn between us, we fhall ever strike,
'Till one can do no more.

All. The Gods affift you.

Auf. And keep your Honours fafe.

1 Sen. Farewel.

2 Sen. Farewel.

All Farewel.

SCENE III.

[Exeunt

Rome.

Enter Volumnia and Virgilia, They fet them down on two low Stools, and Sew.

Vol. I pray you, Daughter, Sing, or express your felf in a more comfortable fort: If my Son were my Husband, I would freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won Honour, than in the Embracements of his Bed, where he should fhew moft love. When yet he was but tender-bodied, and the only Son of my Womb; when Youth with Comlinefs plucked all gaze his way; when for a Day of Kings Entreaties, a Mother should not fell him an Hour from her beholding, I, confidering how Honour would become fuch a Perfon, that it was no better than Picture-like to hang by th' Wall, if Renown made it not ftir, was pleas'd to let him feek Danger where he was like to find Fame: To a cruel War I fent him, from whence he return'd, his Brows bound with Oak. I tell thee, Daughter, I fprang no more in Joy at first hearing he was a Man-child, than now in firft seeing he had proved himself a Man.

Vir. But had he died in the Business, Madam, how then?

Vol. Then his good Report fhould have been my Son; I therein would have found Iffue. Hear me profefs fincerely: had I a dozen Sons each in my love alike, and none lefs dear than thine, and my good Martius, I had rather eleven dye nobly for their Country, than one voluptuoufly furfeit out of Action.

Enter a Gentlewoman.

Gent. Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to vifit you.
Vir. Beseech you, give me leave to retire my felf.
Val. Indeed thou shalt not:

Me

Methinks I hear hither your Husband's Drum:
I fee him pluck Aufidius down by th' Hair:
(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 lofe 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 she did fuckle Hector, look'd not lovelier
Than Hector's Forehead, when it spit forth Blood
At Grecian Swords contending; tell Valeria
We are fit to bid her Welcome

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

Enter Valeria with an Ufher, and a Gentlewoman:
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 Houfe-keepers. 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 it. 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.

Vir.