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Sic. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter the condition of a man?

Men. There is differency between a grub, and a butterfly; yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown from man to dragon: he has wings; he's more than a creeping thing.

Sic. He loved his mother dearly.

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Enter the Ladies, accompanied by Senators, Patricians, and People. They pass over the stage.

1 Sen. Behold our patroness, the life of Rome: Men. So did he me: and he no more remembers Call all your tribes together, praise the gods, his mother now, than an eight year old horse. The And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before tartness of his face sours ripe grapes. When he

them:

walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius, shrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a Repeal him with the welcome of his mother; corslet with his eye; talks like a knell, and his hum Cry,-Welcome, ladies, welcome!— is a battery. He sits in his state,' as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done, is finished with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but eternity, and a heaven to throne in.

Sic. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly. Men. I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his mother shall bring from him: There is no more mercy in him, than there is milk in a male tiger; that shall our poor city find: and all this is 'long of you.

Sic. The gods be good unto us!

Men. No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us. When we banished him, we respected not them: and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to your
house;

The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune,
And hale him up and down; all swearing, if
The Roman ladies bring not comfort home,
They'll give him death by inches.

Enter another Messenger.

What's the news?

Sic.
Mess. Good news, good news ;-The ladies have
prevail'd;

The Volces are dislodg'd, and Marcius gone:
A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,
No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins.

Sic.

Friend,

Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain ?'
Mess. As certain as I know the sun is fire:
Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it?
Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide,
As the recomforted through the gates. Why, hark

you;

[Trumpets and hautboys sounded, and drums beaten, all together. Shouting also within. The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes, Tabors, and cymbals, and the shouting Romans, Make the sun dance. Hark you!

ᎯᏓᏓ .
Welcome!

Welcome, ladies! [A flourish with drums and trumpets. [Exeunt. SCENE V-Antium. A public place. Enter Tullus Aufidius, with Attendants.

Auf. Go tell the lords of the city, I am here:
Deliver them this paper: having read it,
Bid them repair to the market-place; where I,
Even in theirs and in the commons' ears,
Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse,
The city-ports by this hath enter'd, and
Intends to appear before the people, hoping
To purge himself with words: Despatch.

[Exeunt Attendants.

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If you do hold the same intent wherein
You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you
Of your great danger.
Auf

Sir, I cannot tell;

We must proceed, as we do find the people.

3 Con. The people will remain uncertain, whilst
'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either
Makes the survivor heir of all.
Auf.
I know it;
And my pretext to strike at him admits
A good construction. I rais'd him, and I pawn'd
Mine honour for his truth: Who being so heighten'd,
He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery,
Seducing so my friends: and, to this end,
He bow'd his nature, never known before
But to be rough, unswavable, and free.
3 Con. Sir, his stoctness,
When he did stand for consul, which he lost
By lack of stooping,-
Auf
That I would have spoke of:
Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth;
Presented to my knife his throat: I took him;
Made him joint servant with me; gave him way
In all his own desires; nay, let him choose
Out of my files, his projects to accomplish,
My best and freshest men; serv'd his designment
In mine own person; holps to reap the fame,
Which he did end all his; and took some pride
To do myself this wrong: till, at the last,
I seem'd his follower, not partner; and
He wag'd me with his countenance, as if
I had been mercenary.
1 Con.
So he did, my lord:
They are near the city? The ariny marvell'd at it. And, in the last,
When he had carried Rome; and that we look'd

[Shouting again.
Men.
This is good news:
I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia
Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians,
A city full; of tribunes, such as you,

A sea and land full: You have pray'd well to-day;
This morning, for ten thousand of your throats
I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy!
[Shouting and music.
Sic. First, the gods bless you for their tidings:
next,

Accept my thankfulness.
Mess.

Sir, we have all

Great cause to give great thanks.
Sic.

(1) Chair of state. (2) To resemble.
(3) Recall. (4) Gates. (5) Helped.

6

(6) Thought me rewarded with good looks.

For no less spoil, than glory,— Auf

There was it;For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him. At a few drops of women's rheum,' which are As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour Of our great action; Therefore shall he die, And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark!

[Drums and trumpets sound, with great shouts of the people.

1 Con. Your native town you enter'd like a post, And had no welcomes home; but he returns, Splitting the air with noise. 2 Con. And patient fools, Whose children he hath slain, their base throats

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Auf. No more."

Ha!

Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave!— Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever I was forc'd to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords,

Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion
(Who wears my stripes impress'd on him; that
must bear

My beating to his grave;) shall join to thrust
The lie unto him.

1 Lord.
Peace, both, and hear me speak.
Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volces; men and lads,
Stain all your edges on me.-Boy! False hound!
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
That like an eagle in a dove-cote, I
Flutter'd your voices in Corioli:
Alone I did it.—Boy!

Auf. Why, noble lords, Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, 'Fore your own eyes and ears?

Con. Let him die for't.

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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 struck with sorrow. Take him up: Help, three of the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.Beat thou the drum, than it speak mournfully: Trail your steel pikes.-Though in this city he Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one, Which to this hour bewail the injury, Yet he shall have a noble memory. Assist. [Exeunt, bearing the body of Coriolanus. A dead march sounded.

VOL. II.

(1) Memorial.

The tragedy of Coriolanus is one of the most amusing of our author's performances. The old man's merriment in Menenius; the lofty lady's dignity in Volumnia; the bridal modesty in Virgilia; the patrician and military haughtiness in Coriolanus; the plebeian malignity and tribunitian inso lence in Brutus and Sicinius, make a very pleasing and interesting variety; and the various revolutions of the hero's fortune, fill the mind with anxious curiosity. There is, perhaps, too much bustle in the first act, and too little in the last.

2 T

JOHNSON.

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2 Cit. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday, to see Cæsar, and to rejoice in his triumph.

Mar. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home!

What tributaries follow him to Rome,

HENCE; home, you idle creatures, get you To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?

home;

Is this a holiday? What! know you not,
Being mechanical, you ought not walk,
Upon a labouring day, without the sign

Of your profession ?-Speak, what trade art thou?
1 Cit. Why, sir, a carpenter.

Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule?
What dost thou with thy best apparel on ?—
You, sir; what trade are you?

2 Cit. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.

Mar. But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.

2 Cit. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soals.

Mar. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?

2 Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet, if you be out, I can mend you. Mar. What meanest thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow ?

2 Cit. Why, sir, cobble you.

Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless

things!

O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,
Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft
Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements,
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,
Your infants in your arms, and there have sat
The live-long day, with patient expectation,
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome:
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal shout,
That Tyber trembled underneath her banks,
To hear the replication of your sounds,
Made in her concave shores?

And do you now put on your best attire ?
And do you now cull out a holiday?
And do you now strew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Be gone;

Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude. Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault, 2 Cit. Truly, sir, all that I live by is, with the Assemble all the poor men of your sort ;1 awl: I meddle with no tradesmen's matters, nor Draw them to Tyber banks, and weep your tears women's matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, sir, Into the channel, till the lowest stream a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. [Exe. Cit. danger, I re-cover them. As proper men as ever See, whe'r their basest metal be not mov❜d; trod upon neat's-leather, have gone upon my handy-They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. work. Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets? (1) Rank. (2) Whether.

Go you down that way towards the Capitol;
This way will I: Disrobe the images,
If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies."

(3) Honorary ornaments; tokens of respect.

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