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< But with his last attempt he wip'd it out,
• Destroy'd his Country, and his name remains
"To th' ensuing age, abhorr’d.' Speak to me, son:
Thou haft affected the first strains of honour,
To imitate the graces of the Gods;
To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o'th' air,
And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt, (40)
That Mould but rive an oak. Why dost not speak?
Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man
Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speak you :
He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, Boy;
Perhaps, thy childishness will move him more
Than can our reasons. There's no man in the world
More bound to's mother, yet here he lets me prate
Like one i'th' Stocks. Thou'st never in thy life
Shew'd thy dear mother any courtesie;
When she, (poor hen) fond of no second brood,
Has cluck'd thee to the wars, and safely home,
Loaden with honour. Say, my Request's unjust,
And spurn me back: but if it be not so,
Thou art not honest, and the Gods will plague thee,
That thou restrain'st from me the duty, which
To a mother's part belongs. - He turns away :
Down, Ladies ; let us shame him with our knees.
To's sír-name Coriolanus ’longs more pride,
Than pity to our prayers. Down; and end
This is the last. So we will home to Rome,
And die among our neighbours: nay, behold us.
This Boy, that cannot tell what he would have,
Bur kneels, and holds up hands for fellowship,
Does reason our petition with more strength
Than thou hast to deny't. Come, let us go :
This fellow had a Volscian to his mother : (41)

His

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(40) And yet to change thy Sulphur with a Bolt,

That poould but rive an Oak.] All the printed Copies concur in this Reading, but I have certainly restor'd the true Word. Vid. the 14th Note on this Play. (41) This Fellow had a Volscian to his Mother;

His Wife is in Corioli ; and his Child

Like him by Chance ; - ] But tho' his Wife was in Corioli, VOL. VI.

I

might

His wife is in Corioli, and this child
Like him by chance; yet give us our dispatch:
I'm husht, until our City be afire;
And then I'll speak a little.
Cor. O mother, mother!

[Holds her by the hands, silent.
What have you done? behold, the heav'ns do ope,
The Gods look down, and this unnatural scene
They laugh at. Oh, my mother, mother! oh!
You've won a happy victory to Rome :
But for your son, believe it, oh, believe it,
Most dang’rously you have with him prevailid,
If not most mortal to him.

Let it come:
Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars,
I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius,
Were you in my stead, say, would you have heard
A mother less ? or granted less, Aufidius?

Auf. I too was mov'd.

Cor. I dare be sworn, you were ;
And, Sir, it is no little thing to make
Mine eyes to sweat Compassion. But, good Sir,
What peace you'll make, advise me: for my part,
I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you, and pray you
Stand to me in this cause. O mother! wife!

Auf. I'm glad, thou'st set thy mercy and thy ho

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nour

At difference in thee; out of That I'll work
My self a former fortune.

[Aside. Cor. Ay, by and by; but we will drink together ; And you shall bear

[To Vol. Virg. & C.
A better witness back than words, which we,
On like conditions, will have counter-seald.
Come, enter with us : Ladies, you deserve

might not his Child, nevertheless, be like him? The minute Altera. tion I have made,' I am perswaded, restores the true Reading. Volumnia would hint, that Coriolanus by his itern Behaviour had lost all Family-Regards, and did not remember that he had any Child. I am not his Mother, (says she) his Wife is in Corioli, and this Child, whom We bring with us, (young Marcius) is not his Child, but only bears his Resemblance by Chance.

To

To have a Temple built you: all the swords
In Italy, and her confederate arms,
Could not have made this Peace.

[Exeunt:

SCENE, the Forum, in Rome.

Enter Menenius and Şicinius.
Men. See you yond coin o’th’ Capitol,yond corner-

Sic. Why, what of that?

Men. If it be possible for you to displace it with your little finger, there is some hope the ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. But, I say, there is no hope in't; our throats are sentenc'd, and stay upon execution.

Sic. Is't possible, that fo short a time can alter the condition of a man?

Men. There is difference between a grub and a butterfly, yet your butterfly was a grub; this Marcius is grown from man to dragon: he has wings, he's more than a creeping thing.

Sic. He lov'd his mother dearly.

Men. So did he me; and he no more remembers his mother now, than an eight years old horse. The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes. When he walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground thrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corslet with his eye: talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He fits in his State, as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done, is finish'd with his bidding. He wants nothing of a God, but Eternity, and a heaven to throne in.

Sic. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly.

Men. I paint him in the character. Mark, what mercy his mother shall bring from him; there is no more mercy in him, than there is milk in a male tyger ; thatħall our poor City find; and all this is long of you.

Sic. The Gods be good unto us!

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unto us.

Men No, in such a case the Gods will not be good

When we banish'd him, we respected not them: and he returning to break our necks, they respect not us.

Enter a Messenger. Mer. Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to your house ; The Plebeians have got your fellow-tribune, And hale him up and down; All swearing, if The Roman Ladies bring not comfort home, They'll give him death by inches.

Enter another Messenger.
Sic. What's the news?
Mes. Good news, good news, the Ladies have pre-

vail'd,
The Volscians are dislodg'd, and Marcius gone:
A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,
No, not th’ Expulsion of the Tarquins.

Sic. Friend,
Art certain, this is true? is it most certain ?

Mef. As certain, as I know the Sun is fire:
Where have you lurk’d, that you make doubt of it?
Ne’er through an Arch so hurried the blown tide,
As the recomforted through th' gates. Why, hark you;

[Trumpets, Hautboys, Drums beat, all together.
The trumpets, fackbuts, plalteries and fifes,
Tabors and cymbals, and the shouting Romans
Make the Sun dance. Hark you! [4 jhout within.

Men. This is good news :
I will go meet the Ladies. This Volumnia
Is worth of Consuls, Senators, Patricians,
A City full: of Tribunes, such as you,
A Sea and Land full. You've pray'd well to day:
This morning, for ten thousand of your throats
I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy!

[Sound still, with the shouts. Sic. First, the Gods bless you for your tidings: next, Accept my thankfulness.

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Mef. Sir, we have all great cause to give great

thanks. Sic. They're near the city? Mef. Almost at point to enter. Sic. We'll meet them, and help the joy. (Exeunt. Enter two Senators, with ladies, passing over the

ftage; with other Lords. Sen. Behold our Patroness, the Life of Rome : Call all your Tribes together, praise the Gods, And make triumphant fires : ftrew flowers before

them : Unshout the noise, that banish'd Marcius ; Repeal him with the welcome of his mother : Cry, — welcome, Ladies, welcome! [Exeunt. All. Welcome, Ladies, welcome!

[A flourish with drums and trumpets.

SCENE changes to a publick Place in

Antium.

Auf. G ',

Enter Tullus Aufidius, with Attendants.
O

I am here:
Deliver them this paper: having read it,
Bid them repair to th' market-place, where I,
Even in theirs and in the Commons' ears,
Will vouch the truth of it. He, I accuse,
The city ports by this hath enter'd; and
Intends t'appear before the people, hoping
To purge himself with words. Dispatch. Most

welcome!

Enter three or four Conspirators of Aufidius's fačtion. 1 Con. How is it with our General?

Auf. Even so,
As with a man by his own alms impoyfonid,
And with his charity flain.

2 Con. Most noble Sir,
If you do hold the same intent, wherein

You

I 3

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