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Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd,
Would seem but modest: therefore, I beseech you,
In sign of what you are, not to reward
What you have done, before our army hear me.

Mar. I have some wounds upon me, and they smart,
To hear themselves remembred.

Com. Should they not,
Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude,
And tent themselves with death: Of all the horses,
Whereof we have ta'en good, and good store, of all
The treasure in the field archiev'd, and city,
We render you the tenth, to be ta’en forth,
Before the common distribution, at
Your only choice.

Mar. I thank you, General :
But cannot make my heart consent to take
A bribe, to pay my sword : I do refuse it,
And stand upon my common part with those
That have beheld 'the doing.
[A long flourish. They all cry, Marcius! Marcius !

caft up their caps and launces : Cominius and Lar

tius ftand bare. Mar. May these famę Instruments, which you proq fane, (10)

Never

(10) May these fame Inftruments, which you profane,

Never found more : when Drums and Trumpets shall
I th' field prove Flatterers, let Courts and Cities
Be made all of false-faced soothing.
When Steel grows soft, as the Paraste's Silk,
Let him be made an Overture for th' Wars:
No more I say; for that I have not wash'd
My Nose that bled, or foild some debile Wretch,
Which without Note bere's Many else have done,

You shout me fortb in Acclamations hyperbolical, &c.]
Many of the Verses in this truly fine Paffage are dismounted, unnume.
rous, and imperfect : and the Laft is no less than two foot and a half
too long. For this Reafon I have ventur'd to transpose them to their
Measure ; And the Sense, 'tis plain, has been no less maim'd than the
Numbers. To remedy This Part, I have had the Alliftance of my in-
genious Friend Mr. Warburton ; and with the Benefit of his happy
Conjectures, which I have inserted in the Text, the Whole, I hope, is
restor’d to that Purity, which was quite lost in the Corruptions. !

shall

Never found more! when drums and trumpets shall
I'th' field prove flatterers, let camps, as cities,
Be made of false-fac'd soothing! When Steel grows
Soft, as the parasite's filk, let Hymns be made
An overture for th' wars! 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.

Com. Too modest are you :
More cruel to your good report, than grateful
To us, that give you truly : by your patience,
If 'gainst your self you be incens'd, we'll put you
(Like one, that means his proper harm) in manacles;
Then reason safely with you: therefore be it known,
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 th' applause and clamour of the Host,

shall now subjoin his Comment, in Proof of the Emendations. The

Meaning, that Sense requires in the Antithesis evidently design'd here, is This. If One change its usual Nature to a Thing most

opposite, then let the Other do so too. But Courts and Cities, being “ made all of smooth-fac'd Soothing, remain in their proper Na

ture. In the second part of the Sentence, the Antithesis between Steel and the Parasite's Silk does not indeed labour with this Ab

surdity: but it labours with another equally bad, and That is, Non“ sense in the Expression. The Poet's whole Thought seems to be “ This. If Drums and Trumpets change their Nature preposterously, let Camps do so too: And in the latter part of the Sentence, the E“ mendation seems to give a particular Beauty to the Expression. He “ had said before, If Drums and Trumpets prove Flatterers ; now here,

alluding to the fame Thought, he says, Then let Hymns, Soft Mufick dejtin'd to the praises of Gods and Heroes, be an Overture for the Wars: Where the Overture is used with great technical Pro

priety. I should observe one Thing, that the Members of " these two Antitheses are confounded One with Another, which is a “ Practice common with the best Authors: and it is a Figure the “ Rhetoricians have found a Name for,

Caius Marcius Coriolanus. Bear th' Addition nobly ever.

[Flourish. Trumpets found and drums. Omnes. Caius Marcius Coriolanus ! Mar. I will

go

wash:
And when my face is fair, you shall perceive
Whether I blush, or no. Howbeit,

Howbeit, I thank you.
I mean to stride your Steed, and at all time
To undercrest your good Addition,
To th' fairness of

my

Power.
Com. 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 ; fend us to Rome
The best, with whom we may articulare,
For their own good, and ours.

Lart. I shall, my lord.

Mar. The Gods begin to mock me:
I, that but now refus'd most princely gifts,
Am bound to beg of my lord General.

Com. Take't, 'tis youts: what is’t?

Mar. I sometime lay here in Corioli,
At a poor man's house: he us'd me kindly.
He cry'd 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 Hoft 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?

Mar. By Jupiter, forgot :
I am weary ; yea, my memory is tir'd:
Havé we no wine here?

Com. Go we to our tent;
The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time
It should be look'd to: come.

[Exeunt.

H

SCENE

SCENE changes to the Camp of the Volsci. A flourish. Cornets. Enter Tullus Aufidius bloody,

with two or three soldiers. Auf. THEYmill be deliver'd back on good condi

. Auf. Condition ! I would, I were a Roman; for I cannot, Being a Volscian, be that I am. Condition? What good condition can a Treaty find I'th' part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius, I have fought with thee, so often haft thou beat me: And would'st do so, I think, should we encounter As often as we eat. By th’ Elements, If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, He's mine, or I am his: mine emulation Hath not that honour in't, it had; for where I thought to crush him in an equal force, True Sword to Sword; I'll potch at him some way, Or wrath, or craft may get him.

Sol. He's the Deyil.
Auf. Bolder, tho' not so subtle: my valour (poison'd,
With only suffering stain by him) for him
Shall fie out of it self: not sleep, nor sanctuary,
Being naked, sick, nor fanc, nor Capitol,
The prayers of priests, nor times of sacrifice,
Embarkments all of fury, shall lift up
Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst
My hate to Marcius. Where I find him, were ic
At home, upon my brother's guard, even there,
Against the hospitable Canon, would I
Walh my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to th' city,
Learn, how 'tis held; and what they are, thar must
Be hostages for Rome.
Sol. Will not you go

?
Auf. I am attended at the cypress grove. I

pray you, ('Tis South the city-mills) bring me word thither How the world goes, that to the pace of it I may spur on my journey. Sol. I fhall, Sir.

(Exeunt.

A CT II.

SCENE, ROME.

Enter Menenius, with Sicinius and Brutus.

T

MENENIU S.
THE Augur 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, whom 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. Well, Sir;
Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor, that

you two have not in abundance?

Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stor'd 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 censur'd here in the city, I mean of us o'thi' right hand file, do you? Bru. Why, how are we censur'd?

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

Both. 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 pa

tience:

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