The gates of Rome. Our fpoil, we have brought

home,

f

Doth more than counterpoife, a full third part,
The charges of the Action. We have made peace,
With no lefs honour to the Antiates,

Than fhame to the Romans: And we here deliver,
Subfcrib'd by the confuls and patricians,
Together with the reft o' the fenate, what
We have compounded on.

Auf. Read it not, noble lords;

But tell the traitor, in the highest degree
He hath abus'd your powers.

Cor. Traitor!-How now?—
Auf. Ay, traitor, Marcius.

Cor. Marcius!

3

t

Auf. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius; Doft thou

I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name
Coriolanus in Corioli

You lords and heads of the state, perfidiously
He has betray'd your business, and given up,
For certain drops of falt, your city Rome
(I fay, your city) to his wife and mother:
Breaking his oath and refolution, like
A twift of rotten filk; never admitting
Counsel o' the war; but at his nurfe's tears
He whin'd and roar'd away your victory;
That pages blufh'd at him, and men of heart
Look'd wondering each at other.

Cor. Hear'it thou, Mars?

Auf. Name not the god, thou boy of tears-
Cor. Ha!

Auf. No more.

Cor. Meafurelefs liar, thou haft made my heart

Too

Too great for what contains it. Boy! O flave!-
Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever
I was fore'd to fcold. Your judgments, my grave
lords,

Muft give this cur the lie: and his own notion
(Who wears my stripes imprest upon him; that
Muft bear my beating to his grave) fhall join
To thrust the lie unto him.

1 Lord. Peace, both, and hear me speak.

Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volsces, men and lads, Stain all your edges in me.-Boy! Falfe hound! If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there, That, like an eagle on a dove-cote, I Flutter'd your Volfces in Corioli: Alone I did it.-Boy!

Auf. Why, noble lords,

Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your fhame, by this unholy braggart, 'Fore your own eyes and ears?

All Con. Let him die for't.

All People. Tear him to pieces, do it presently.

[The Crowd peak promifcuously. He kill'd my fon-My daughter-He kill'd my coufin Marcus.

He kill'd my father.

2 Lord. Peace, ho!-no outrage ;-peace.The man is noble, and his fame folds in

This orb o' the earth: His laft offences to us

Shall have judicious hearing.-Stand, Aufidius, And trouble not the peace.

Cor. O, that I had him,

With fix Aufidiufes, or more, his tribe,

To ufe my lawful sword!

Auf. Infolent villain!

All

All Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him. [AUFIDIUS and the Confpirators draw, and kill MARCIUS, who falls, and AUFIDIUS stands

on hiin.

Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold.

Auf. My noble masters, hear me fpeak, 1 Lord. O Tullus

2 Lord. Thou haft done a deed, whereat

Valour will weep.

3 Lord. Tread not upon him.-Masters all, be Put up your fwords.

[quiet; Auf. My lords, when you fhall know (as in this

rage,

Provok'd by him, you cannot) the great danger
Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice
That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours

To call me to your fenate, I'll deliver
Myfelf your loyal feryant, or endure
Your heaviest cenfure.

2 Lord. Bear from hence his body,

And mourn you for him: let him be regarded
As the most noble corfe, that ever herald
Did follow to his urn.

2 Lord. His own impatience

Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.
Let's make the best of it.

Auf. My rage is gone,

And I am ftruck with forrow. Take him up :--
Help, three o' the chiefeft foldiers; I'll be one.
Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully:-
Trail your fteel pikes.-Though in this city he
Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail the injury,

Yet

Yet he shall have a noble memory.-
Affift.

[Exeunt, bearing the Body of MARCIUS. A dead March founded.

THE END.

ON THE FABLE AND COMPOSITION OF

TITUS ANDRONICUS.

It is obfervable, that this play is printed in the quarto of 1611, with exactness equal to that of the other books of those times. The first edition was probably corrected by the author, fo that here is very little room for conjecture or emendation; and accordingly none of the editors have much molested this piece with officious criticifm. JOHNSON.

This is one of thofe plays which I have always thought, with the better judges, ought not to be acknowledged in the lift of Shakespeare's genuine pieces. And, perhaps, I may give a proof to ftrengthen this opinion, that may put the matter out of question. Ben Jonfon, in the introduction to his BartholomewFair, which made its first appearance in the year 1614, couples Jeronymo and Andronicus together in reputation, and speaks of them as plays then of twenty-five or thirty years standing. Confequently Andronicus muft have been on the stage before Shakespeare left Warwickfhire, to come and refide in London: and I never heard it fo much as intimated, that he had turned his genius to stage-writing before he affociated with the players, and became one of their body. However, that he afterwards introduced it a-new on the ftage, with the addition of his own masterly touches, is inconteftible, and thence, 1 prefume, grew his title to it. The diction in general, where he has not taken the pains to raise it, is even beneath that of the Three Parts of Henry VI. The ftory we are to suppose merely fictitious. Andronicus is a furname of pure Greek derivation. Tamora is neither mentioned by Ammianus

Mar