them, his heart would not serve him to tarry their coming to his chair; but, coming down in haste, he went to meet them, and first he kissed his mother and embraced her awhile, then his wife and little children. And nature so wrought in him, that the tears fell from his eyes, and he could not keep himself from making much of them. Then, perceiving that his mother would speak, he called the chiefest of the Volsces to hear what she would say. Then she spake in this sort:

"If we held our peace, my son, and determined not to speak, the state of our poor bodies and present sight of our raiment would easily bewray to thee what life we have led at home since thy exile: but think now with thyself, how much more unfortunate than all the women living are come hither, considering that the sight which should be most pleasant to behold, spiteful fortune hath made most fearful to us; making myself to see my son, and my daughter here her husband, besieging the walls of his native country; so as that which is the only comfort to all others in their adversity, to pray unto the gods and to call to them for aid, is the thing which plungeth us in most deep perplexity. For we cannot, alas! together pray both for victory to our country and for safety of thy life; but a world of grievous curses, yea, more than any mortal enemy can heap upon us, are forcibly wrapped up in our prayers. For the bitter sop of most hard choice is offered thy wife and children, either to lose the person of thyself, or the nurse of their native country. For myself, my son, I am determined not to tarry till fortune in my life-time do make an end of this war; for if I cannot persuade thee rather to do good unto both parties than to overthrow and destroy the one; trust unto it, thou shalt no sooner march forward to assault thy country, but thy foot shall tread upon thy mother's womb, that brought thee first into this world. And I may not defer to see the day, either that my son so led prisoner in triumph by his natural countrymen, or that he himself do triumph of them. If it were so that my request tended to save thy country in destroy

ing the Volsces, I must confess thou wouldest hardly resolve on that: for as to destroy thy country, is altogether unmeet and unlawful; so were it not just, and less honorable, to betray those that put their trust in thee. But my only demand consisteth to make a jail-delivery of all evils, which delivereth equal benefit and safety to both, but most honorable to the Volsces. For it shall appear that, having victory in their hands, they have granted us singular graces, peace and amity; of which good, if so it come to pass, thyself is the only author, and so hast thou the honor. But, if it fail, thyself alone shall carry the shameful reproach of either party. So, though the end of war be uncertain, yet this is most certain,-that, if it be thy chance to conquer, this benefit shalt thou reap of thy goodly conquest, to be chronicled the plague and destroyer of thy country. And if fortune overthrow thee, then the world will say, that through desire to revenge thy private injuries thou hast forever undone thy friends who did most lovingly receive thee.-My son, why dost thou not answer me? Dost thou take it honorable for a noble man to remember the wrongs and injuries done him, and dost not think it an honest man's part to be thankful for the goodness that parents do show to their children? No man living is more bound to show himself thankful in all parts and respects, than thyself. Thou hast not hitherto showed thy poor mother any courtesy, and therefore it is not only honest, but due unto me, that I should obtain my so just and reasonable request of thee. But since by reason I cannot persuade thee, to what purpose do defer my last hope?"

With these words, herself, his wife, and children fell down upon their knees before him. Marcius seeing that could refrain no longer, but went straight and lift her up, crying out, "O mother, what have you done to me?" And, holding her hard by the right hand, "O mother,” said he, "you have won a happy victory for your country, but mortal and unhappy for your son; for I see myself vanquished by you alone." These words being spoken openly,

he spake a little apart with his mother and wife, and then let them return to Rome, for so they did request him; and so, remaining in the camp that night, the next morning he dislodged and marched into the Volsces' country again.

showed in what fear

For so soon as the Volsces' camp to re

Now the citizens of Rome plainly and danger they stood, of this war. watch upon the walls perceived the move, there was not a temple in the city but was presently set open, and full of men wearing garlands of flowers on their heads, sacrificing to the gods, as they were wont to do upon the news of some great victory. And this common joy was yet more manifestly showed by the honorable courtesies the whole Senate and people did bestow on the ladies. For they were all thoroughly persuaded that the ladies only were the cause of saving the city. Whereupon the Senate ordained that the magistrates, to gratify and honor these ladies, should grant them all that they would require. And they only requested them to build a temple of Fortune for the women, themselves offering to defray the whole charge of the sacrifices and other ceremonies belonging to the service of the gods; and the Senate, commending their good will, ordained that the temple and image should be made at the common charge of the city.

When Marcius was returned into the city of Antium, Tullus, that hated and could no longer abide him, for the fear he had of his authority, sought divers means to make him away. Wherefore, having procured many of his confederacy, he required Marcius might be deposed from his estate, to render up account to the Volsces of his charge and government. Marcius answered, that he was willing to give up his charge, and would resign it into the hands of the lords, if they did all command him, as by all their commandment he received it; and that he would even at that present give up an account to the people, if they would tarry the hearing of it. Hereupon an assembly was held, in which there were certain orators appointed,

who stirred up the common people against him. When they had told their tales, Marcius rose up to answer; and the people quieted themselves and gave him audience: whereupon Tullus, fearing that, if he let him speak, he would prove his innocence to the people, because amongst other things he had an eloquent tongue, thought he might no longer delay his enterprise, nor tarry for the rising of the common people against him. Wherefore those that were of the conspiracy began to cry out that he was not to be heard, and that they would not suffer a traitor to usurp tyrannical power over the Volsces. Saying these words, they all fell upon him, and killed him in the marketplace, none of the people once offering to rescue him. Howbeit, it is clear that this murder was not generally consented to of the Volsces: for men came out of all parts to honor his body, and did honorably bury him; setting up his tomb with great store of armor and spoils, as the tomb of a worthy person and great captain.

The foregoing abstract makes manifest enough that the Poet was indebted to the historian for somewhat more than the events of the drama. The life and character of the persons, together with the springs and processes of their action, were in a good measure taken from that timehonored repository. And the point worth special noting is, that from the parts and fragments thence derived, rich and fresh as these often are, the Poet should have reproduced, as it were, the entire form and order of their being, creating an atmosphere and environment which so fit and cohere with what he borrowed, that the whole has the air and movement of a perfectly original work. For it may be observed, that all the humorous and amusing scenesand Shakespeare has few that are more choicely conceived or more aptly used-are supplied from the Poet's own mind; there being no hint towards these in Plutarch, saving the fable rehearsed and applied by old Menenius, who is described as one of "the pleasantest old men, and the most acceptable to the people." And yet how exquisite and admirable the keeping of these scenes with the other

matter and course of the play! and how perfectly steeped and charged they seem with the very genius and spirit of old Roman life and manners!

But the drama has what some may not unfairly consider a still higher merit, in that through the whole is poured the high-reaching grace and power of the most deep and broad and mellow philosophy. From its richlyfreighted scenes may be gathered, directly or by quick inference, a code and stock of practical wisdom large and various enough to furnish out the moralist and statesman: the whole work bespeaking a mind which, without any loss of strength or vigor, has ripened up into a sage-like calmness, clearness, and sobriety; which, as from a worldcommanding eminence, has made a full and complete survey of humanity; which has thoroughly mastered the principles and measures of political growth and influence; which knows men through and through, both as individuals and as members of the state; and which understands how man and man, rank and rank, class and class, sex and sex, act and react on one another in all the civil and social relations of life, so that he can view and touch them, play or be serious with them, laugh at or instruct them, as one that is perfectly at home both among and within them. The play, it is true, has comparatively little of that mighty-rushing energy and torrent of passion, in which the Poet seems at one period of his life to have delighted to dwell. The nature of the theme indeed did not well admit of this. But, surely, the want thereof is more than made up by qualities which, if not nobler in themselves, are much rarer to be met with. And the very choice of the subject-matter, as well as the mode of treating it, argues the state of one who has shaken himself loose from those fierce bewilderments of soul, and set up his rest in the more even and quiet fields of lofty unimpassioned thought; where he is bending all his resources of genius and art to the moving and interesting of men by discoursing the purer truths of the intellect and the heart, and by running the most free and eloquent division upon them.