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Vir. O, good madam, there can be none yet. Val. Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from him last night.

Vir. Indeed, madam?

Val. In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it. Thus it is:-The Volces have an army forth; against whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of our Roman power: your lord, and Titus Lartius, are set down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief wars. This is true, on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us.

Vir. Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every thing hereafter.

Vol. Let her alone, lady; as she is now, she will

but disease our better mirth.

Val. In troth, I think, she would:-Fare you well then.-Come, good sweet lady.-Pr'ythee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o'door and go along with us.

Vir. No: at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish you much mirth.

Val. Well, then farewell.

[Exeunt. SCENE IV.-Before Corioli. Enter, with drum and colours, Marcius, Titus Lartíus, Officers and Soldiers. To them a Messenger.

Mar. Yonder comes news:-A wager, they have

met.

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Lart.

'Tis done.

Agreed.
Mar. Say, has our general met the enemy?
Mess. They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet.
Lart. So, the good horse is mine.
Mar.
I'll buy him of you.
Lart. No, I'll nor sell, nor give him: lend you
him, I will,

For half a hundred years.-Summon the town.
Mar. How far off lie the armies?
Mess.
Within this mile and half.
Mar. Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they

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They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts,
Which makes me sweat with wrath.-Come on, my
fellows;
He that retires, I'll take him for a Volce,
And he shall feel mine edge.

Alarum, and exeunt Romans and Volces, fighting.
The Romans are beaten back to their trenches.
Re-enter Marcius.

You shames of Rome! you herd of-Boils and
Mar. All the contagion of the south light on you,
Plaster you o'er; that you may be abhorr'd
plagues
Further than seen, and one infect another
Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese,
From slaves that apes would beat? Pluto and hell!
That bear the shapes of men, how have you run
All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale
With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge
home,

Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe,
And make my wars on you: look to't: Come on;
If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives,
As they us to our trenches followed.
Another alarum.

The Volces and Romans reenter, and the fight is renewed. The Volces retire into Corioli, and Marcius follows them to the gates.

So, now the gates are ope:-Now prove good
seconds:

'Tis for the followers fortune widens them,
Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like.
[He enters the gates, and is shut in.
1 Sol. Fool-hardiness; not I.
2 Sol.
3 Sol.
Have shut him in.
Ail.

Nor I.

See, they [Alarum continues.

To the pot, I warrant him.
Enter Titus Lartius.
Lart. What is become of Marcius?
ᎯᏓᏓ .

Slain, sir, doubtless.
1 Sol. Following the fliers at the very heels,
With them he enters: who, upon the sudden,
Clapp'd to their gates; he is himself alone,
To answer all the city.

Lart.
O noble fellow!
Who, sensible, outdares his senseless sword,
And, when it bows, stands up! Thou art left,
A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art,
Marcius:
Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier
Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks, and
Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible
The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds,
Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the world

Were feverous and did tremble.

Re-enter Marcius bleeding, assaulted by the enemy.
1 Sol.
Look, sir.
Lart.
'Tis Marcius:
Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike.
[They fight, and all enter the city.

SCENE V.-Within the town. A street. En-
ter certain Romans, with spoils.

1 Rom. This I will carry to Rome.

2 Rom. And I this.

3 Rom. A murrain on't! I took this for silver.

[Alarum continues still afar off.

(4) When it is bent.

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And hark, what noise the general makes!-To
him :-

There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius,
Piercing our Romans: Then, valiant Titus, take
Convenient numbers to make good the city;
Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste
To help Cominius.

Lart.

Worthy sir, thou bleed'st;

Thy exercise hath been too violent for
A second course of fight.
Mar.

Sir, praise me not:

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How is't with Titus Lartius?

Flower of warriors,

Mar. As with a man busied about decrees: Condemning some to death, and some to exile; Ransoming him, or pitying, threat'ning the other; Holding Corioli in the name of Rome,

Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash,

My work hath yet not warm'd me: Fare you well. To let him slip at will.
The blood I drop is rather physical

Than dangerous to me: To Aufidius thus
I will appear, and fight.
Now the fair goddess, Fortune,
Lart.
Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms
Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman,
Prosperity be thy page!

Mar.
Thy friend no less
Than those she placeth highest! So farewell.
Lart. Thou worthiest Marcius!- [Ex. Mar.
Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place;
Call thither all the officers of the town,
Where they shall know our mind. Away. [Exe.
SCENE VI.-Near the camp of Cominius.

Com.

Where is that slave, Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? Where is he? Call him hither.

Mar.

He did inform the truth: But for our gentlemen,
Let him alone,
The common file, (A plague !-Tribunes for them!)
The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat, as they did budge
From rascals worse than they.

Com.

But how prevail'd you? Mar. Will the time serve to tell? I do not think

Where is the enemy? Are you lords of the field?
If not, why cease you till you are so?
Com.

Marcius,
En-We have at disadvantage fought, and did
Retire to win our purpose.

ter Cominius and forces, retreating.
Com. Breathe you, my friends; well fought, we
are come off

Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands,
Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, sirs,
We shall be charg'd again. Whiles we have struck,
By interims, and conveying gusts, we have heard
The charges of our friends:-The Roman gods
Lead their successes as we wish our own;
That both our powers, with smiling fronts encoun-
tering,

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Mar How lies their battle? Know you on which
side

They have plac'd their men of trust?
Com.
As I guess, Marcius,
Their bands in the vaward' are the Antiates,*
Of their best trust: o'er them Aufidius,
Their very heart of hope.
Mar.
I do beseech you,

By the blood we have shed together, by the vows
By all the battles wherein we have fought,
We have made to endure friends, that you directly
Set me against Aufidius, and his Antiates:
And that you not delay the present; but,
Filling the air with swords advanc'd, and darts,
We prove this very hour.

Com.

Though I could wish
You were conducted to a gentle bath,
And balms applied to you, yet dare I never
Deny your asking; take your choice of those
That best can aid your action.

Mar.

Those are they
That most are willing:-If any such be here
(As it were sin to doubt,) that love this painting
Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear
Lesser his person than an ill report;
If any think, brave death outweighs bad life,
And that his country's dearer than himself;
Let him, alone, or so many, so minded,

Wave thus, [Waving his hand.] to express his dis-
position,

And follow Marcius.

[They all shout, and wave their swords; take him up in their arms, and cast up their caps. O me, alone! Make you a sword of me? If these shows be not outward, which of you But is four Volces? None of you but is

(5) Present time.

Able to bear against the great Aufidius
A shield as hard as his. A certain number,
Though thanks to all, must I select: the rest
Shall bear the business in some other fight,
As cause will be obey'd. Please you to march;
And four shall quickly draw out my command,
Which men are best inclin'd.

Com.
March on, my fellows;
Make good this ostentation, and you shall
Divide in all with us.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VII.-The gates of Corioli. Titus Lar-
tius, having set a guard upon Corioli, going
with a drum and trumpet toward Cominius and
Caius Marcius, enters with a Lieutenant, a party
of Soldiers, and a Scout.

Lart. So, let the ports' be guarded: keep your
duties,

As I have set them down. If I do send, despatch
Those centuries to our aid; the rest will serve
For a short holding: If we lose the field,
We cannot keep the town.

Lieu.
Fear not our care, sir.
Lart. Hence, and shut your gates upon us.—
Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct us.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VIII-A field of battle between the
Roman and the Volscian camps. Alarum. En-

ter Marcius and Aufidius.

Mar. I'll fight with none but thee; for I do hate

thee

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Not Afric owns a serpent, I abhor
More than thy fame and envy: Fix thy foot.
Mar. Let the first budger die the other's slave,
And the gods doom him after !
Auf.

Halloo me like a hare.

Mar.

If I fly, Marcius,
Within these three hours, Tullus,
Alone I fought in your Corioli walls,
And made what work I pleas'd; 'Tis not my blood,
Wherein thou see'st me mask'd; for thy revenge,
Wrench up thy power to the highest.
Auf.
Wert thou the Hector,
That was the whip' of your bragg'd progeny,
Thou should'st not scape me here.-

[They fight, and certain Volces come to the
aid of Aufidius.
Officious, and not valiant-you have sham'd me
In your condemned seconds.

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The treasure, in this field achiev'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! Mar-
cius! cast up their caps and lances: Co-
minius and Lartius stand bare.

Mar. May these same instruments, which you profane,

Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall I'the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be Made all of false-fac'd soothing: When steel grows Soft as the parasite's silk, let him be made An overture for the wars! No more, I say; For that I have not wash'd my nose that bled, [Exeunt fighting, driven in by Marcius. Or foil'd some debile wretch,-which, without note, SCENE IX.-The Roman camp. Alarum. In acclamations hyperbolical; Here's many else have done,-you shout me forth

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retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter at one side, Cominius and Romans; at the other side, Marcius, with his arm in a scarf, and other Romans.

Com. If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's
work,

Thou'lt not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it,
Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles;
Where great patricians shall attend, and shrug,
I'the end, admire; where ladies shall be frighted,
And, gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dull
tribunes,

That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours,
Shall say, against their hearts-We thank the gods,
Our Rome hath such a soldier!-

(1) Gates. (2) Companies of a hundred men.
(3) Stirrer. (4) Boast, crack.
(5) In sending such help.

In praises sauc'd with lies.
As if I lov'd my little should be dieted

Com.

Too modest are you; More cruel to your good report, than grateful To us that give you truly: by your patience, If 'gainst yourself you be incens'd, we'll put you (Like one that means his proper1o 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,

(6) Town into grateful trepidation.
(7) Forces.
(8) Privilege.
(9) Weak, feeble.
(10) Own.

With all the applause and clamour of the host, Caius Marcius Coriolanus.

Bear the addition nobly ever!

Wash my fierce hand in his heart. Go you to the city:

Learn, how 'tis held; and what they are, that must Will not you go?

[Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums. Be hostages for Rome.

All. Caius Marcius Coriolanus!

Cor. I will go wash;

And when my face is fair, you shall perceive
Whether I blush, or no : Howbeit, I thank you
I mean to stride your steed; and, at all times,
To undercrest your good addition,

To the 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: send us to Rome

2

1 Sol.

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.
1 Sol.

The best, with whom we may articulate,
For their own good, and ours.
Lart.
I shall, my lord.
Cor. The gods begin to mock me. I that now
Refus'd most princely gifts, am bound to beg
Of my lord general.
Com.

Take it 'tis yours.-What is't?
Cor. I sometime lay, here in Corioli,
At a poor man's house; he us'd me kindly :
He cried 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 host 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?
Cor.

By Jupiter, forgot :
I am weary; yea, my memory is tir'd.-
Have 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.

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[Exeunt.

SCENE X.-The camp of the Volces. A flourish. Cornets. Enter Tullus Aufidius, bloody, with two or three Soldiers.

Auf. The town is ta'en!

1 Sol. 'Twill be delivered back on good condition. Auf. Condition?—

I would, I were a Roman; for I cannot,
Being a Volce, be that I am.-Condition!
What good condition can a treaty find
I'the part that is at merey? Five times, Marcius,
I have fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me;
And would'st do so, I think, should we encounter
As often as we eat.-By the elements,
If e'er again I meet him beard to beard,
He is 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.

1 Sol.
He's the devil.
Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle: My val-
our's poison'd,

With only suffering stain by him; for him
Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep, nor sanctuary,
Being naked, sick nor fane, nor Capitol,
The prayers of priests, nor times of sacrifice,
Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up
Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst
My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it
At home, upon my brother's guard, even there
Against the hospitable canon, would I

(1) Add more by doing his best.

(2) Chief men.

(4) Whereas.

VOL. II.

(3) Enter into articles. (5) Poke, push.

I shall, sir. [Exeunt,

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Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius.

Sie. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.
Men. Pray you, who 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 bacs 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 Trib. 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 stored with all. Sic. Especially, in pride.

Bru. And topping all others in boasting.

how you are censured here in the city, I mean of Men. This is strange now: Do you two know us o'the right hand file? Do you?

Both Trib. Why, how are we censured? Men. Because you talk of pride now,-Will you not be angry?

Both Trib. 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 patience: give your disposition the reins, and be angry at your pleasure; at the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you, in being so. You blame Marcius for being proud?

Bru. We do it not alone, sir.

Men. I know, you can do very little alone; for your helps are many; or else your actions would grow wondrous single: your abilities are too infant-like, for doing much alone. You talk of pride: O, that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O that you could!

Bru. What then, sir?

Men. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates (alias, fools,) as any in Rome.

Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough too. Men. I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tyber' in't'; said to be something imperfect, in favouring the first complaint: hasty, and tinder-like, upon too trivial motion; one that converses more with the buttock of the night, than

(6) My brother posted to protect him.
(7) Waited for. (8) Back.
(9) Water of the Tyber.

2 Q

Vol. O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't.
Men. So do I too, if it be not too much :-Brings

with the forehead of the morning. What I think, tion in Galen is but empiricutic, and to this preI utter; and spend my malice in my breath: Meet-servative, of no better report than a horse-drench ing two such weals'-men as you are (I cannot call Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home you Lycurguses) if the drink you gave me, touch wounded. my palate adversely, I make a crooked face at it. Vir. O, no, no, no. I cannot say, your worships have delivered the matter well, when I find the ass in compound with the major part of your syllables: and though I'a victory in his pocket?-The wounds become must be content to bear with those that say you are reverend grave men; yet they lie deadly, that tell, you have good faces. If you see this in the map of my microcosm,2 follows it, that I am known well enough too? What harm can your bisson' conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too?

him.

Vol. On's brows, Menenius: he comes the third time home with the oaken garland. Men. Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly? Vol. Titus Lartius writes,-they fought together, but Aufidius got off.

Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that: an he had staid by him, I would not have been so fidiused for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold that's in them. Is the senate possessed' of this?

Bru. Come, sir, come, we know you well enough. Men. You know neither me, yourselves, nor any thing. You are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs; you wear out a good wholesome forenoon, in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and a Vol. Good ladies, let's go :-yes, yes, yes: the fosset-seller; and then rejourn the controversy of senate has letters from the general, wherein he gives three-pence to a second day of audience.-When my son the whole name of the war: he hath in you are hearing a matter between party and party, this action outdone his former deeds doubly. if you chance to be pinched with the colic, you make faces like mummers; set up the bloody flag against all patience; and, in roaring for a chamberpot, dismiss the controversy bleeding, the more entangled by your hearing; all the peace you make, in their cause, is calling both the parties knaves: You are a pair of strange ones.

Bru. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table, than a necessary bencher in the Capitol.

Men. Our very priests must become mockers, if they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging of your beards; and your beards deserve not so honourable a grave, as to stuff a botcher's cushion, or to be entombed in an ass's pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors, since Deucalion; though, peradventure, some of the best of them were hereditary hangmen. Good e'en to your worships; more of your conversation would infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians: I will be bold to take my leave of you.

[Bru. and Sic. retire to the back of the scene.

Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria, &c. How now, my fair as noble ladies, (and the moon, were she earthly, no nobler,) whither do you follow your eves so fast?

Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for the love of Juno, let's go. Men. Ha! Marcius coming home!

Val. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of

him.

Men. Wondrous? ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing.

Vir. The gods grant them true!

Vol. True? pow, wow.

Men. True? I'll be sworn they are true :Where is he wounded?-God save your good worships! [To the Tribunes, who come forward.] Marcius is coming home; he has more cause to be proud.-Where is he wounded?

Vol. I'the shoulder, and i'the left arm: There will be large cicatrices to show the people, when he shall stand for his place. He received in the repulse of Tarquin, seven hurts i'the body.

Men. One in the neck, and two in the thigh,there's nine that I know.

Vol. He had, before this last expedition, twentyfive wounds upon him.

Men. Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave: [A shout, and flourish.] Hark! the trumpets.

Vol. These are the ushers of Marcius: before him He carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears; Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie; Which, being advanc'd, declines; and then men die. A senne!. Trumpets sound. Enter Cominius and Titus Lartius; between them, Coriolanus, crowned with an caken garland; with Captains, Soldiers, and a Herald.

Her. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight

Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most pros- Within Corioli's gates: where he hath won, perous approbation. With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these

Men. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee:-In honour follows, Coriolanus: Hoo! Marcius coming home?

Two Ladies. Nay, 'tis true.

Vol. Look, here's a letter from him; the state hath another, his wife another; and, I think, there's one at home for you.

Men. I will make my very house reel to-night :A letter for me?

Vir. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw it.

Men. A letter for me? It gives me an estate of seven years' health; in which time I will make a lip at the physician: the most sovereign prescrip

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Welcome to Rome, renown'd Coriolanus!

[Flourish.

All. Welcome to Rome, renown'd Coriolanus! Cor. No more of this, it does offend my heart; Pray now, no more.

Com.
Cor.

Look, sir, your mother,

You have, I know, petition'd all the gods
For my prosperity.

O!

[Kneels.

Vol.
My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and
Nay, my good soldier, up;
By deed-achieving honour newly nam'd,
What is it? Coriolanus, must I call thee?
(5) Fully informed. (6) Flourish on cornete.

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