But with his last attempt he wip'd it out; To the ensuing age, abhorr'd. Speak to me, son: To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' the air, That should but rive an oak: Why dost not speak? More bound to his mother; yet here he lets me prate, When she (poor hen!) fond of no second brood, 380 Thou art not honest; and the gods will plague thee, But But kneels, and holds up hands, for fellowship, 390 Like him by chance :-Yet give us our dispatch : And then I'll speak a little. Cor. Mother, mother ! [Holds her by the Hands, silent, 400 What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, Auf. I was mov'd withal. Cor. I dare be sworn, you were: And, sir, it is no little thing, to make 410 Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir, What peace you'll make, advise me: For my part, I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you: and pray you, Stand to me in this cause.-O mother! wife! Auf. I am glad, thou hast set thy mercy and thy honour At At difference in thee; out of that I'll work Myself a former fortune, [Aside. 429 [The Ladies make signs to CORIOLANUS. Cor. Ay, by and by; shall bear [TO VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, &c. A better witness back than words, which we, On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd. Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve To have a temple built you: all the swords In Italy, and her confederate arms, Could not have made this peace. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The Forum, in Rome. Enter MENENIUS, and SICINIUS. Men. See you yon coign o' the Capitol; yon cor ner-stone? Sic. Why, what of that? 400 Men. If it be possible for you to displace it with your little finger, there is some hope the ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. But, I say, there is no hope in't; our throats are sentenc'd, and stay upon execution. Sic. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter the condition of a man? Men. There is difference between a grub, and a butterfly; yet your butterfly was a grub. This Mar cus is grown from man to dragon: he has wings; he's more than a creeping thing. Sic. He loved his mother dearly. 441 Men. So did he me: and he no more remembers his mother now, than an eight year old horse. The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes. When he walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground shrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corslet with his eye; talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He sits in his state, as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done, is finish'd with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god, but eternity, and a heaven to throne in. 452 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 tyger; and that shall our poor city find; and all this is 'long of you. Sic. The gods be good unto us! unto us. 459 Men. No, in such a case the gods will not be good When we banish'd him, we respected not them and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us. Enter a Messenger. Mes. 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 The Roman ladies bring not comfort home, Enter another Messenger. Sic. What's the news? Mes. Good news, good news!-The ladies have prevail'd, The Volsces are dislodg'd and Marcius gone : A merrier day did never yet greet Rome, Sic. Friend, 470 Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain? [Trumpets, Hautboys, Drums beat, all together. The trumpets, sacbuts, psalteries, and fifes, 480 Tabors, and cymbals, and the shouting Romans, I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia A city full; of tribunes, such as you, A sea and land full: You have pray'd well to-day; [Sound still, with the Shouts. |