to be intomb'd in an afs's pack-faddle. Yet you must be faying, Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap eftimation, is worth all your predeceffors, fince Deucalion; though, peradventure, fome of the best of them were hereditary hangmen. Good-e'en to your Worships; more of your converfation would infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beaftly Plebeians. I will be bold to take my leave of you.

[Brutus and Sicinius ftand afide.

As Menenius is going out, Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria.

How now my (as fair as noble) ladies, and the moon, were the earthly, no nobler; whither do you follow your eyes fo faft?

Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for the love of Juno, let's go.

Men. Ha! Marcius coming home?

Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius, and with moft profperous approbation.

Men. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee hoo, Marcius coming home!

Both. 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 faw't.

Men. A letter for me! it gives me an eftate of seven years' health; in which time I will make a lip at the phyfician; the moft fovereign prefcription in Galen is but Emperic, and to this prefervative of no better report than a horfe-drench. Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded.

Vir. Oh no, no, no.

Vol. Oh, he is wounded, I thank the Gods for't. Men. So do I too, if he be not too much; brings a' victory in his pocket? the wounds become him.

Vol. On's brows, Menenius; he comes the third time home with the oaken garland.

Men. Hath he difciplin'd Aufidius foundly?

Vol. Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but Aufidius got off.

Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that if he had staid by him, I would not have been fo fidius'd for all the chefts in Corioli, and the gold that's in them. Is the Senate poffeft of this?

Vol. Good ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes: the Senate has letters from the General, wherein he gives my fon the whole name of the war: he hath in this action outdone his former deeds doubly.

Val. In troth, there's wondrous things fpoke of him.

Men. Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchafing.

Vir. The Gods grant them true!

Vol. True? pow, waw.

Men. True? I'll be fworn, they are true. Where is he wounded? God fave your good Worships;- Marcius is coming home; he has more caufe to be proud:

where is he wounded?

[To the Tribunes. Vol. I' th' fhoulder, and i' th' left arm; there will be large cicatrices to fhew the people, when he fhall ftand for his place. He receiv'd in the repulfe of Tarquin feven hurts i' th' body. (10)

Men. One i'th' neck, and one too i'th' thigh; there's nine, that I know.

(10) He receiv'd, in the Repulse of Tarquin, Seven Hurts i'th Body.

Men. One th' Neck, and two i'th' Thigh: there's Nine, that I know.] Seven, one, - and two, and these make but nine? Surely, we may fafely affift Menenius in his Arithmetick. This is a ftupid Blunder; but wherever we can account by a probable Reason for the Caufe of it, That diects the Emendation. Here it was eafy for a negligent Transcriber to omit the fecond One as a needless Repetition of the firft, and to make a Numeral Word of too.

MI. Warburton.

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

Men. Now 'tis twenty feven; every gash was an enemy's Grave. Hark, the trumpets.

[Afbout and flourish. 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. Trumpets found.

Enter Cominius the General, and Titus Lartius; between them Coriolanus, crown'd with an oaken garland, with Captains and foldiers,

and a herald.

Her. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight Within Corioli' gates, where he hath won, With fame, a name to Caius Marcius. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!

[Sound. Flourish.

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

Čom. Look, Sir, your mother,

Cor. Oh!

You have, I know, petition'd all the Gods

For my profperity.

Vol. Nay, my good foldier, up:

My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and
By deed-atchieving honour newly nam'd,
What is it, Coriolanus, muft I call thee?

But oh, thy wife.

Cor. My gracious filence, hail!

[Kneels.

Would'st thou have laugh'd, had I come coffin'd home, That weep'ft to see me triumph? ah, my Dear,

Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear,

And mothers that lack fons.

Men. Now the Gods crown thee!

Cor. And live you yet? O my fweet Lady, pardon.

[To Valeria.

Vol. I know not where to turn. O welcome home;

And

And welcome, General! y'are welcome all.

Men. A hundred thousand welcomes: I could weep, And I could laugh, I'm light and heavy ;-welcome! A curfe begin at very root on's heart,

That is not glad to fee thee.

You are three,

That Rome fhould dote on: yet, by the faith of men, We've fome old crab-trees here at home, that will not Be grafted to your relish. Welcome, Warriors!

We call a nettle, but a nettle; and

The faults of fools, but folly.

Com. Ever right.

Cor. Menenius, ever, ever.

Her. Give way there, and go on.
Cor. Your hand, and yours.

Ere in our own house I do fhade my head,

The good Patricians must be visited';

(11) From whom I have receiv'd not only Greetings,

But, with them, Charge of honours.

Vol. I have lived,

To fee inherited my very wishes,

And buildings of my fancy; only one thing
Is wanting, which, I doubt not, but our Rome

Will caft upon thee.

Cor. Know, good Mother, I

Had rather be their fervant in my way,

Than fway with them in theirs.

Com. On, to the Capitol.

[Flourish. Cornets.

[Exeunt in State, as before.

Brutus, and Sicinius, come forward.

Bru. All tongues fpeak of him, and the bleared fights Are fpectacled to fee him. Your pratling nurse

Into a rapture lets her Baby cry,

(11) From whom I have receiv'd not only Greetings,

But, with them, Change of Honours.] Change of Honours is a very poor Expreffion, and communicates but a very poor Idea. I have ventur'd to fubftitute, Charge; i. e. a fresh Charge or Commiffion. Thefe Words are frequently mistaken for each other.

While fhe chats him: the kitchen malkin pins
Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck,

Clambring the walls to eye him; stalls, bulks, windows,

Are fmother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges hors'd
With variable complexions; all agreeing

In earnestness to fee him: feld-fhown Flamins
Do prefs among the popular throngs, and puff
To win a vulgar ftation; our veil'd dames
Commit the war of white and damask, in
Their nicely-gawded cheeks, to th' wanton spoil
Of Phoebus' burning kiffes; fuch a pother,
As if that whatfoever God, who leads him,
Were flily crept into his human powers,
And gave him graceful pofture.

Sic. On the fudden,

I warrant him Conful.

Bru. Then our Office may,

During his Power, go fleep.

Sic. He cannot temp'rately tranfport his honours,
From where he should begin and end, but will
Lose those he hath won.

Bru. In That there's comfort.

Sic. Doubt not,

The Commoners, for whom we stand, but they,

Upon their ancient malice, will forget,

With the leaft caufe, these his new honours; which

That he will give, make I as little question

As he is proud to do't.

Bru. I heard him fwear,

Were he to stand for Conful, never would he

Appear i'th' market-place, nor on him put

The napless Vesture of Humility;

Nor fhewing, as the manner is, his wounds
To th' people, beg their ftinking breaths.

Sic. Tis right.

Bru. It was his word: oh, he would miss it, rather

Than carry it, but by the fuit o'th' Gentry,

And the defire o'th' Nobles.

Sic. I with no better,

Than