Which were in-fhell'd when Marcius stood for Rome, And durft not once peep out. Sic. Come, what talk you of Marcius! Bru. Go fee this rumourer whipt. It cannot be, The Volfcians dare break with us. Men. Cannot be! We have Record, that very well it can: Sic. Tell not me : Bru. Not poffible. Enter a Meffenger. Mell. The Nobles in great carneftness are going All to the Senate-houfe; fome news is come, That turns their countenances. Sic. 'Tis this flave: Go whip him 'fore the people's eyes: his raifing! Mef. Yes, worthy Sir, The flave's report is feconded, and more, Sic. What more fearful? Mef. It is fpoke freely out of many mouths, Sic. This is most likely ! Bru. Rais'd only, that the weaker fort Good Marcius home again. may wifh Sic. The very trick on't. Men. This is unlikely. He He and Aufidius can no more attone, (34) Enter Meffenger. Mef. You are fent for to the Senate: Upon our territories; and have already Enter Cominius. Com. Oh, you have made good Work. Com. You have holp to ravish your own daughters, and To melt the city-leads upon your pates, To see your Wives difhonour'd to your nofes. Men. Pray now, the news? You've made fair work, I fear me: pray, your news? If Marcius fhould be joyned with the Volfcians, Com. If? he is their God; he leads them like a thing Made by fome other Deity than Nature, That fhapes man better; and they follow him, (34) He and Aufidius can no more be one Than violentest Contrariety.] This is only Mr. Pope's Sophiftication. I have reftor'd the Reading of the genuine Copies; -can no more atone, i. e. be reconcil'd, agree ; for in this Sente the Word is as frequently used, as in the active one, to pacify, to reconcile. So in As you like it; Then is there Mirth in Heav'n, When earthly Things, made ev'n, And in many other Paffages of our Author. Or Or butchers killing flies. Men. You've made good work, You and your apron-men; that stood fo much The breath of garlick-eaters. Com. He'll shake your Rome about your ears. Men. As Hercules did shake down mellow fruit i You have made fair work! Bru. But is this true, Sir? Com. Ay, and you'll look pale Before you find it other. All the Regions Are mock'd for valiant ignorance, And perish constant fools: who is't can blame him? The noble man have mercy. Com. Who fhall ask it? The Tribunes cannot do't for fhamé; the people Does of the fhepherds: his best friends, if they Shou'd fay, be good to Rome, they charge him even As those thould do that had deferv'd his hate, And therein fhew'd like enemies. Men. 'Tis true. If he were putting to my houfe the brand To fay, befeech you, ceafe. You've made fair hands, Com. You've brought A trembling upon Rome, fuch as was never Tri. Say not, we brought it. Men. How? was it we? we lov'd him; but, like beafts, And coward Nobles, gave way to your clusters, Who did hoot him out o'th' city. Com. But I fear, They'll roar him in again. Tullus Aufidius, obeys his points H As As if he were his officer: Defperation Enter a Troop of Citizens. Men. Here come the clufters. And is Aufidius with him? You are they, That made the air unwholfome, when you caft And not a hair upon a foldier's head, Which will not prove a whip: as many coxcombs, We have deferv'd it. Omnes. Faith, we hear fearful news, I Cit. For mine own part, When I faid, banish him; I faid, 'twas pity. 2 Cit. And fo did I. 3 Cit. And fo did I; and to fay the truth, fo did very many of us; that we did, we did for the beft: and tho' we willingly confented to his Banishment, yet it was against our will. Com. Y'are goodly things; you, voices! You and your cry. Shall's to the Capitol? [Exeunt. Sic. Go, mafters, get you home, be not difmay'd. Thefe are a Side, that would be glad to have This true, which they fo feem to fear. Go home, And fhew no fign of fear, 1 Cit. The Gods be good to us: come, mafters, let's home. I ever faid, we were i'th' wrong, when we banish'd him. 2 Cit. So did we all; but come, let's home. Bru. I do not like this news. Sic. Nor I. [Ex. Cit. Bru. Let's to the Capitol, would, half my wealth Would buy this for a lie! Sic. Pray, let us go, [Exeunt Tribunes. SCENE SCENE, a Camp; at a small Distance from Rome. Enter Aufidius, with his Lieutenant. O they still flie to th' Roman? Auf. Do Lieu. I do not know what witchcraft's in Your foldiers ufe him as the grace 'fore meat, Auf. I cannot help it now. Unless, by using means, I lame the foot Of our defign. He bears himself more proudly Lieu. Yet I wish, Sir. (I mean for your particular) you had not Had left it folely. Auf. I understand thee well; and be thou fure, Lieu. Sir, I befeech, think you, he'll carry Rome? And the Nobility of Rome are his; The Senators and Patricians love him too: H 2 Will |