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ACT IV.

SCENE I. The same. Before a Gate of the City.

Enter CORIOLANUS, VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, MENenius, COMINIUS, and several young Patricians.

Cor. Come, leave your tears; a brief farewell.The beast

1

With many heads butts me away.-Nay, mother,
Where is your ancient courage? you were used
To say extremity was the trier of spirits;
That common chances common men could bear;
That when the sea was calm, all boats alike
Showed mastership in floating; fortune's blows,
When most struck home, being gentle wounded, craves
A noble cunning: you were used to load me
With precepts, that would make invincible

The heart that conned them.

Vir. O Heavens! O Heavens!

Cor.

Nay, I pr'ythee, woman,―

Vol. Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome, And occupations perish!

Cor.

What, what, what!

I shall be loved when I am lacked. Nay, mother,
Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say,

If

you had been the wife of Hercules,

Six of his labors you'd have done, and saved
Your husband so much sweat.-Cominius,
Droop not; adieu.-Farewell, my

wife! my

mother!

I'll do well yet.-Thou old and true Menenius,
Thy tears are salter than a younger man's,

And venomous to thine eyes.-My sometime general,
I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld

1 This is the reading of the second folio; the first folio reads, extremities was, &c.

2 "When fortune strikes her hardest blows, to be wounded, and yet continue calm, requires a noble wisdom." Cunning is often used in this sense by Shakspeare.

Heart-hardening spectacles; tell these sad women, 'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes,

As 'tis to laugh at them.-My mother, you wot well, My hazards still have been your solace; and Believe't not lightly, (though I go alone

Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen

Makes feared, and talked of more than seen,) your son Will, or exceed the common, or be caught

With cautelous 2 baits and practice.

Vol.

My first son,

Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius
Determine on some course,

With thee a while.

More than a wild exposture to each chance

That starts i'the way before thee.

Cor.

O the gods!

Com. I'll follow thee a month, devise with thee
Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us,
And we of thee: so, if the time thrust forth
A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send
O'er the vast world to seek a single man;
And lose advantage, which doth ever cool
I' the absence of the needer.

Fare ye well;

Cor.
Thou hast years upon thee; and thou art too full
Of the wars' surfeits, to go rove with one
That's yet unbruised; bring me but out at gate.-
Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and
My friends of noble touch," when I am forth,
Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come.
While I remain above the ground, you shall
Hear from me still; and never of me aught
But what is like me formerly.

Men.

That's worthily

As any ear can hear. Come, let's not weep.-
If I could shake off but one seven years

1 Foolish.

2 Cautelous here means insidious.

3 i. e. noblest.

4 Exposure; for which it is probably a typographical error.

5 i. e. of true metal. The metaphor from the touchstone for trying metals, is common in Shakspeare.

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From these old arms and legs, by the good gods,
I'd with thee every foot.

Cor.

Come.

Give me thy hand.—

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. The same. A Street near the Gate.

Enter SICINIUS, BRUTUS, and an Ædile.

Sic. Bid them all home; he's gone, and we'll no further.

The nobility are vexed, who, we see, have sided
In his behalf.

Bru.

Now we have shown our power,

Bid them home.

Let us seem humbler after it is done,
Than when it was a doing.

Sic.

Say, their great enemy is gone, and they
Stand in their ancient strength.

Bru.

Dismiss them home.

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Keep on your way.

Vol. O, you're well met. The hoarded plague

o'the gods

Requite your love!

Men.

Peace, peace; be not so loud. Vol. If that I could for weeping, you should hear,— Nay, and you shall hear some. Will you be

gone? [To BRUTUS.

Vir. You shall stay too. [To Sic.] I would I had

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Sic.

Are you mankind ?1

Vol. Ay, fool; is that a shame ?-Note but this

fool.

Was not a man my father? Hadst thou foxship
To banish him that struck more blows for Rome,
Than thou hast spoken words?

Sic.

O blessed Heavens!

Vol. More noble blows, than ever thou wise words; And for Rome's good.-I'll tell thee what ;-yet go;— Nay, but thou shalt stay too. I would my son

Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him,

His good sword in his hand.

Sic.

Vir.

What then?

What then?

He'd make an end of thy posterity.

Vol. Bastards, and all.

Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome!

Men. Come, come, peace.

Sic. I would he had continued to his country,

As he began; and not unknit himself

The noble knot he made.

Bru.

I would he had.

Vol. I would he had! 'Twas you incensed the

rabble;

Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth,

As I can of those mysteries which Heaven
Will not have earth to know.

Bru.

Pray, let us go.

Vol. Now, pray, sir, get you gone;

You have done a brave deed. Ere you go, hear this;

As far as doth the Capitol exceed

The meanest house in Rome; so far, my son,
(This lady's husband here, this, do you see,)
Whom you have banished, does exceed you all.
Bru. Well, well, we'll leave you.

Sic.

Why stay we to be baited

With one that wants her wits?

1 i. e. mankind woman; a woman with the roughness of a man. Volumnia chooses to understand it as meaning a human creature.

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my prayers with you.

I would the gods had nothing else to do,

[Exeunt Tribunes. But to confirm my curses! Could I meet them But once a day, it would unclog my heart Of what lies heavy to't.

Men.

You have told them home,

And, by my troth, you have cause. You'll sup with

me?

Vol. Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself,
And so shall starve with feeding.-Come, let's go;
Leave this faint puling, and lament as I do,
In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come.
Men. Fie, fie, fie!

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. A Highway between Rome and Antium.

Enter a Roman and a Volce meeting.

Rom. I know you well, sir, and you know me. Your name, I think, is Adrian.

Vol. It is so, sir; truly I have forgot you.

Rom. I am a Roman; and my services are, as you are, against them. Know you me yet?

Vol. Nicanor? No.

Rom. The same, sir.

Vol. You had more beard, when I last saw you, but your favor is well appayed by your tongue. What's the news in Rome? I have a note from the Volcian state, to find you out there. You have well saved me a day's journey.

Rom. There hath been in Rome strange insurrection; the people against the senators, patricians, and nobles.

1 The old copy reads, "Your favor is well appeared by your tongue." For the emendation in the text Mr. Singer is answerable. Warburton proposed appealed; Johnson, affeared; Steevens, approved; and Malone thought the old reading might be right. No phrase is more common in our elder language than well appaied, i. e. satisfied, contented.

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