To us that give you truly. By your patience,

If 'gainst yourself you be incensed, we'll put you
(Like one that means his proper harm) in manacles,
Then reason safely with you.-Therefore, be it known,
As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius
Wears this war's garland: in token of the which
My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him,
With all his trim belonging; and, from this time,"
For what he did before Corioli, call him,

With all the applause and clamor of the host,
CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS.-

Bear the addition nobly ever!

[Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums.

All. Caius Marcius Coriolanus!

Cor. I will go wash;

And when my face is fair, you shall perceive
Whether I blush or no. Howbeit, I thank you.-
I mean to stride your steed; and, at all times,
To undercrest your good addition,

To the fairness of my power.

So, to our tent;

Com.
Where, ere we do repose us, we will write
To Rome of our success.-You, Titus Lartius,
Must to Corioli back. Send us to Rome
The best with whom we may articulate

For their own good, and ours.

Lart.

I shall, my lord.

Cor. The gods begin to mock me. I that now
Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg
Of my lord general.

Com.

Take it; 'tis yours.-What is't?

Cor. I sometime lay, here in Corioli,

At a poor man's house; he used me kindly:
He cried to me; I saw him prisoner;

But then Aufidius was within my view,

And wrath o'erwhelmed my pity. I request you
To give my poor host freedom."

Com.
O, well begged!
Were he the butcher of my son, he should
Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus.
Lart. Marcius, his name ?

Cor.

By Jupiter, forgot.—

I am weary; yea, my memory is tired.-
Have we no wine here?

Com. Go we to our tent;

The blood upon your visage dries: 'tis time
It should be looked to; come.

SCENE X. The Camp of the Volces.

[Exeunt.

A Flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, bloody, with two or three Soldiers.

Auf. The town is ta'en!

1 Sol. 'Twill be delivered back on good condition. Auf. Condition?

I would I were a Roman; for I cannot,

Being a Volce, be that I am.- Condition!

What good condition can a treaty find

I' the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius,

I have fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me; And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter

As often as we eat.-By the elements,

If e'er again I meet him beard to beard,
He is mine, or I am his. Mine emulation
Hath not that honor in't, it had; for where
I thought to crush him in an equal force,

(True sword to sword,) I'll potch at him some way;
Or wrath, or craft, may get him.

1 Sol.

He's the devil.

Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle. My valor's poisoned, With only suffering stain by him; for him

Shall fly out of itself. Nor sleep, nor sanctuary,

Being naked, sick; nor fame, nor Capitol,

The prayers of priest, nor times of sacrifice,
Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up
Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst
My hate to Marcius; where I find him, were it
At home, upon my brother's guard, even there,

Against the hospitable canon, would I

Wash my fierce hand in his heart. Go you to the city; Learn how 'tis held; and what they are that must

Be hostages for Rome.

1 Sol.

Will not you go?

Auf. I am attended at the cypress grove.

I pray you,

('Tis south the city mills,) bring me word thither How the world goes; that to the pace of it

I may spur on my journey.

1 Sol.

I shall, sir.

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I. Rome. A public Place.

Enter MENENIUS, SICINIUS, and BRUTUS.

Men. The augurer tells me, we shall have news to-night. Bru. Good or bad?

Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius.

Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.
Men. Pray you, who does the wolf love?

Sic. The lamb.

Men. Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius.

Bru. He's a lamb indeed, that baas like a bear.

Men. He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two are old men; tell me one thing that I shall ask you. Both Trib. Well, sir.

Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two have not in abundance?

Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all. Sic. Especially in pride.

Bru. And topping all others in boasting.

Men. This is strange, now. Do you two know how you are censured here in the city, I mean of us o' the right hand file? Do you?

Both Trib. Why, how are we censured?

Men. Because you talk of pride now,-Will you not be angry?

Both Trib. Well, well, sir, well.

Men. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience. Give your disposition the reins, and be angry at your pleasures; at the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you, in being so. You blame Marcius for being proud!

Bru. We do it not alone, sir.

Men. I know you can do very little alone; for your helps are many; or else your actions would grow wondrous single. Your abilities are too infant-like, for doing much alone. You talk of pride; O that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O that O that you could!

Bru. What then, sir?

Men. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmerit

ing, proud, violent, testy magistrates, (alias fools,) as any in Rome.

Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough too.

Men. I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tyber in't; said to be something imperfect, in favoring the first complaint; hasty, and tinder-like, upon too trivial motion; one that converses more with the buttock of the night, than with the forehead of the morning. What I think, Í utter; and spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two such weals-men as you are, (I cannot call you Lycurguses,) if the drink you give me, touch my palate adversely, I make a crooked face at it. I cannot say your worships have delivered the matter well, when I find the ass in compound with the major part of your syllables; and though I must be content to bear with those that say you are reverend, grave men; yet they lie deadly, that tell, you have good faces. If you see this in the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known well enough too? What harm can your bisson conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too?

Bru. Come, sir, come, we know you well enough.

Men. You know neither me, yourselves, nor any thing. You are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs; you wear out a good, wholesome forenoon, in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and a fosset-seller; and then rejourn the controversy of three-pence to a second day of audience.When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you chance to be pinched with the colic, you make faces like mummers; set up the bloody flag against all patience; and, in roaring for a chamber-pot, dismiss the controversy bleeding, the more entangled by your hearing. All the peace you make in their cause, is, calling both the parties knaves. You are a pair of strange ones.

Bru. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table, than a necessary bencher in the Capitol.

When

Men. Our very priests must become mockers, if they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging of your beards; and your beards deserve not so honorable a grave, as to stuff a botcher's cushion, or to be entombed in an ass's pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors, since Deucalion; though, peradventure, some of the best of them were hereditary hangmen. Good e'en to

your worships; more of your conversation would infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians. I will be bold to take my leave of you.

[BRU. and SIC. retire to the back of the scene.

Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and VALERIA, &c.

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

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

Men. Ha! Marcius coming home?

Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosperous approbation.

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

Two Ladies. 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 saw it.

Men. A letter for me? It gives me an estate of seven years' health; in which time I will make a lip at the physician: the most sovereign prescription in Galen is but empiricutic, and, to this preservative, of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded?

Vir. O, no, no, no.

Vol. O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't.

Men. So do I too, if it 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. Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly?

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

Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that; an he had staid by him, I would not have been so fidiused for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold that's in them. Is the senate possessed of this?

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