He was a kind of Nothing, titleless,
'Till he had forg'd himself a name o'th' fire
Of burning Rome.

Men. Why, fo; you've made good work:
A pair of Tribunes, that have rack'd for Rome,
To make coals cheap: a noble memory!

Com. I minded him, how royal 'twas to pardon
When it was leaft expected. He reply'd,
It was a bare petition of a State
To one whom they had punish'd.

Men. Very well, could he fay less ?
Com. I offer'd to awaken his regard
For's private friends. His answer to me was,
He could not stay to pick them in a pile

Of noifom mufty chaff. He faid, 'twas folly,
For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt,
And ftill to nofe th' offence.

Men. For one poor grain or two?

I'm one of those: his mother, wife, his child,
And this brave fellow too, we are the grains;
You are the mufty chaff; and you are smelt
Above the Moon. We must be burnt for you.

Sic. Nay, pray, be patient: if you refuse your aid In this fo-never-needed help, yet do not

Upbraid us with our diftrefs. But, fure, if you Would be your Country's pleader, your good tongue, More than the inftant army we can make,

Might top our Country-man.

Men. No: I'll not meddle.

Sic. Pray you, go to him.

Men. What fhould I do?

Bru. Only make tryal what your love can do For Rome, tow'rds Marcius.

Men. Well, and fay, that Marcius
Return me, as Cominius is return'd,
Unheard: (what then?)

But as a difcontented friend, grief-fhot
With his unkindness. Say't be fo?
Sis. Yet your good will

Muft

Must have that thanks from Rome, after the measure

As you intended well.

Men. I'll undertake it:

I think, he'll hear me.

Yet to bite his lip,. And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me. He was not taken well, he had not din'd. The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then We powt upon the morning, are unapt To give or to forgive; but when we've ftuff'd These pipes, and these conveyances of blood With wine and feeding, we have fuppler fouls Than in our prieft-like fafts; therefore I'll watch him 'Till he be dieted to my request,

And then I'll fet upon him.

Bru. You know the very road into his kindness, And cannot lose your way.

Men. Good faith, I'll prove him,

Speed how it will. I fhall ere long have knowledge

Of my success.

Com. He'll never hear him.

Sic. Not?

[Exita

Com. I tell you, he does fit in gold, his eye
Red as 'twould burn Rome; and his Injury
The Goaler to his Pity. I kneel'd before him,
'Twas very faintly he faid, rife: difmifs'd me
Thus, with his fpeechlefs hand. What he would do,
He fent in writing after; what he would not,
Bound with an oath to yield to his conditions:
So that all hope is vain, unless his mother
And wife, who (as I hear) mean to follicit him
For mercy to his Country: therefore hence,
And with our fair intreaties hafte them on.

[Exeunt:

SCENE

SCENE changes to the Volfcian Camp:

Enter Menenius to the Watch or Guard.

1 Watch.

STA

TAY: whence are you?
Watch. Stand, and

go back.

Men. You guard like men, 'tis well. But, by your leave,

I am an Officer of State, and come
To fpeak with Coriolanus.

I Watch. Whence?

Men. From Rome.

1 Watch. You may not pass, you must return :.our General

Will no more hear from thence.

2 Watch. You'll fee your Rome embrac'd with fire, before

You'll speak with Coriolanus.

Men. Good my friends,

If you have heard

your General talk of Rome,
And of his friends there, it is Lots to Blanks,
My name hath touch'd your ears; it is Menenius.
I Watch. Be it fo, go back: the virtue of your

Is not here paffable.

Men. I tell thee, fellow,

Thy General is my lover: I have been

The book of his good acts; whence men have read
His fame unparallel'd happily amplified:

For I have ever verified my friends,

(Of whom he's chief) with all the size that verity Would without lapfing fuffer: nay, fometimes, Like to a bowl upon a fubtle ground,

Name

I've tumbled paft the throw; and in his praise
Have, almoft, ftamp'd the leafing. Therefore, fellow,
I must have leave to pass.

I Watch. Faith, Sir, if you had told as many lies in his behalf, as you have utter'd words in your own,

you

you

fhould not pass here: no, though it were as virtuous to lie, as to live chaftly. Therefore, go back.

Men. Pr'ythee, fellow, remember, my name is Menenius; always factionary of the Party of your General.

2 Watch. How foever you have been his liar, (as you fay, you have ;) I am one that, telling true under him, muft fay, you cannot pass. Therefore, go

back.

Men. Has he din'd, canft thou tell? for I would not speak with him till after dinner.

I Watch. You are a Roman, are you?

Men. I am as thy General is.

I Watch. Then you fhould hate Rome, as he does. Can you, when you have pufh'd out of your gates the very Defender of them, and, in a violent popular ignorance, given your enemy your fhield, think to front his revenges with the eafy groans of old women, the virginal palms of your daughters, or with the palfied interceffion of fuch a decay'd Dotard as you feem to be? can you think to blow out the intended fire your city is ready to flame in, with fuch weak breath as this? no, you are deceiv'd, therefore back to Rome, and prepare for your execution; you are condemn'd,. our General has fworn you out of reprieve and pardon.

Men. Sirrah, if thy Captain knew I were here, he would use me with estimation.

Watch. Come, my Captain knows you not.
Men. I mean, thy General.

1 Watch. My general cares not for you. Back, I fay, go; left I let forth your half pint of Blood. Back, that's the utmost of your Having, back.

Men. Nay, but fellow, fellow,

Enter Coriolanus, with Aufidius.

Cor. What's the matter?

Men.

Men. Now, you companion, I'll fay an errand for you; you fhall know now, that I am in estimation; you fhall perceive, that a Jack-gardant cannot office me from my fon Coriolanus; guefs but my entertainment with him; if thou stand'st not i'th' ftate of hanging, or of fome death more long in fpectatorship, and crueller in fuffering, behold now prefently, and fwoon for what's to come upon thee.- -The glorious Gods fit in hourly fynod about thy particular profperity, and love thee no worfe than thy old father Menenius does! Oh my fon, my fon! thou art preparing fire for us; look thee, here's water to quench it. I was hardly mov'd to come to thee, but being affured, none but my felf could move thee, I have been blown out of our gates with fighs; and conjure thee to pardon Rome, and thy petitionary Countrymen. The good Gods affwage thy wrath, and turn the dregs of it upon this varlet here; this, who, like a block, hath denied my access to thee

Cor. Away!

Men. How, away?

Cor. Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs Are fervanted to others: though I owe

My revenge properly, remiffion lyes

In Volfcian breafts. That we have been familiar, (26)

Ingrate

(26)

That we have been familiar,

Ingrate Forgetfulness shall poyfon, rather

Than pity: Note how much

-}

We cannot defire a more fignal Inftance of the indolent Stu pidity of our Editors. Forgetfulness might poyfon, in not remembring a Converfation of Friendship, but how could it, in fuch an Action, be faid to pity too? The pointing is abfurd ;. and the Sentiment confequently funk into Nonfenfe. As I have regulated the Stops, both Dr. Therby and Mr. Warburton faw with me, they ought to be regulated. I have ftill ventur'd beyond my ingenious Friends, in changing Poyson into Prison: which adds an Antithefis, by which. the Sense seems clearer and more natural: viz. That Forgetfulness shall rather

keep