3 Ser. What have you to do here, Fellow? pray you, avoid the house. Cor. Let me but ftand, I will not hurt your hearth. 3 Ser. What are you? Cor. A Gentleman. 3 Serv. A marvellous poor one. Cor. True; fo I am. 3Ser. Pray you, poor Gentleman, take up fome other Station, here's no place for you; pray you, avoid : come. Cor. Follow your function, go and batten on cold bits. [Pufbes him away from him. 3 Ser. What, will you not? pr'ythee, tell my Mafter, what a ftrange Gueft he has here. 2 Ser. And I fhall. [Exit fecond Serving-man. 3 Serv. Where dwell'st thou ? Cor. Under the Canopy. 3 Serv. Under the Canopy? Cor. Ay. 3 Serv. Where's that? Cor. I'th' City of Kites and Crows. 3 Serv. I'th' City of Kites and Crows? what an Afs it is! then thou dwell'ft with Daws too? Cor. No, I ferve not thy Mafter. 3 Ser. How, Sir! do you meddle with my Mafter? Cor. Ay, 'tis an honefter fervice, than to meddle with thy Mistress: thou prat'ft, and prat'ft; ferve with thy trencher: hence. [Beats him away. Enter Aufidius with a Serving-man. Auf. Where is this Fellow? 2 Ser. Here, Sir; I'd have beaten him like a dog, but for disturbing the Lords within. Auf. Whence com'ft thou? what wouldst thou? thy name? Why fpeak'it not? fpeak, man: what's thy name? Doft not yet take me for the man I am, Auf Auf. What is thy name? Cor. A name unmufical to Volscian ears, And harfh in found to thine. Auf. Say, what is thy name? Thou haft a grim appearance, and thy face Cor. My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done Thine own particular wrongs, and ftop thofe maims As benefits to thee. For I will fight Againft my canker'd Country, with the spleen Of all the under fiends. But if fo be Thou dar'ft not this, and that to prove more fortunes Longer to live moft weary, and prefent My My throat to thee, and to thy ancient malice : Auf. Oh, Marcius, Marcius, Each word, thou'ft spoke, hath weeded from my heart Should from yon cloud fpeak to me things divine, Thou art thence banish'd, we would mufter all Though Though not for Rome it felf. Cor. You blefs me, Gods! Auf. Therefore, most absolute Sir, if thou wilt have The leading of thy own revenges, take One half of my Commiffion, and fet down As best thou art experienc'd, fince thou know'ft ways; Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, To fright them, ere deftroy. But come, come in; Say yea to thy defires. A thousand welcomes ! welcome! Enter two Servants. 1 Ser. Here's a strange alteration. Your hand; most [Exeunt. 2 Ser. By my hand, I had thought to have ftrucken him with a cudgel, and yet my mind gave me, his clothes made a falfe report of him. 1 Ser. What an arm he has! he turn'd me about with his finger and his thumb, as one would fet up a top. 2 Ser. Nay, I knew by his face that there was fomething in him. He had, Sir, a kind of face, methoughtI cannot tell how to term it. 1 Ser. He had fo: looking, as it were -'would I were hanged, but I thought there was more in him than I could think. 2 Ser. So did I, I'll be fworn: he is fimply the rareft man i'th' world. 1 Ser. I think, he is; but a greater Soldier than he, you wot one. 2 Ser. Who, my Master? 1 Ser. Nay, it's no matter for that. 2 Ser. Worth fix on him. * Ser. 1 Ser. Nay, not fo neither; but I take him to be the 'greater Soldier. 2 Ser. Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that; for the defence of a Town, our General is excellent. 3 1 Ser. Ay, and for an affault too. Enter a third Servant. Ser. Oh, flaves, I can tell you news; news, you rafcals. Both. What, what, what? let's partake. 3 Ser. I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as lieve be a condemn'd man. Both. Wherefore? wherefore? 3 Ser. Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our General, Caius Marcius. 1 Ser. Why do you fay, thwack our General ? 3 Ser. I do not fay, thwack our General; but he was always good enough for him. 2 Ser. Come, we are fellows and friends; he was ever too hard for him, I have heard him say so himfelf. 1 Ser. He was too hard for him directly, to fay the troth on't before Corioli, he fcotcht him and notcht him like a carbonado. 2 Ser. And, had he been cannibally given, he might have broil'd and eaten him too. I Ser. But, more of thy news; 3 Ser. Why, he is so made on here within, as if he were Son and Heir to Mars: fet at upper end o'th' table; no queftion ask'd him by any of the Senators, but they ftand bald before him. Our General himself makes a Mistress of him, fanctifies himself with's hands, and turns up the white o'th' eye to his difcourfe. But the bottom of the news is, our General is cut i'th' middle, and but one half of what he was yesterday. For the Other has half, by the Intreaty and Grant of the whole table. He'll go, he fays, and fowle the porter of Rome VOL. VI. T gates |