Ere they lack'd power to cross you. Cor. Let them hang. Vol. Ay, and burn too. Enter Menenius, with the Senators. Men. Come, come, you've been too rough, fomething too rough; You must return, and mend it. Sen. There's no remedy, Unless, by not fo doing, our good City Vol. Pray, be counsell'd; I have a heart as little apt as yours, To better 'vantage. ufe of anger Men. Well faid, noble woman : 'Before he should thus ftoop to th' Herd, but that Cor. What must I do? Men. Return to th' Tribunes. Cor. Well, what then? what then? Men. Repent what you have spoke. Cor. For them ?-I cannot do it for the Gods, Muft I then do't to them? Vol. You are too abfolute, Tho' therein you can never be too noble, I' th' war do grow together; grant That, and tell me Cor. Tufh,, tufh 5 Before he should thus floop to th' HEART] This nonfenfe fhould be reformed thus, 003 Before he thus fhould stoop to th' HERD, i. e. the people. WARBURTON. Men. Men. A good demand. Vel. If it be honour in your wars, to feem Ccr. Why force you this? Vol. Because it lies on you to fpeak to th' People: Not by your own inftruction, nor by th' matter Which your heart prompts you to, but with fuch words' That are but rooted in your tongue; though baftards, and fyllables 7 Of no allowance, to your bofom's truth. I would diffemble with my nature, where 8 Your Wife, your Son, thefe Senators, the Nobles.And you will rather fhew our general lowts How you can frown, than fpend a fawn upon 'em, For the inheritance of their loves, and fafeguard * Of what that Want might ruin! Men. Noble Lady! -Come, go with us, fpeak fair. You may falve fo 'Not what is dangerous prefent, but the lofs Of what is past. Vol. I pr'ythee now, my Son, Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand, 2 And thus far having ftretch'd it, here be with them, *-that Want-] The want of their loves. Not what-] In this place not feems to fignify not only. 2 quaving thy head, Which often, thus, correcting thy ftout heart.] But do any of the ancient, or modern mafters of elocution prefcribe the waving the bead, when they treat of action? Or how does the waving the head correct the ftoutnefs of the heart, or evidence humility? Or laftly, where is the fenfe or grammar of thefe words, Which often, thus, &c.? Thefe queftions are fufficient to hew that the lines are corrupt. I would read therefore, waving by hand, Which foften thus, correcting thy flout heart. This is a very proper precept of action fuiting the occafion: Wave thy hand, fays fhe, and foften WARBURTON. The correction is ingenious, yet I think it not right. Head or band is indifferent. The hand is waved to gain attention; the head is fhaken in token of forrow. The word wave fuits better to the hand, but in confidering the authour's language, too much ftrefs must not be laid on propriety against the copies. I would read thus, waving thy head, With often, thus, correcting thy fout beart. That is, fhaking thy head, and friking thy breaft. The alteration is flight, and the gefture re. commended not improper. In afking their good loves; but thou wilt frame Men. This but done, Ev'n as the fpeaks, why, all their hearts were yours: Vol. Pr'ythee now, Go and be rul'd; altho', I know, thou'dit rather Than flatter him in a bower. Here is Cominius. Enter Cominius. Com. I've been i' th' Market-place, and, Sir, 'tis fit You have ftrong Party, or defend yourself By calmnefs, or by abfence. All's in anger. Men. Only, fair fpeech. Com. I think, 'twill ferve, if he Can thereto frame his fpirit.. Vol. He muft and will. -Pr'ythee now, fay you will, and go about it. 3 Cor. Muft I go fhew them fhew them my unbarbed fconce? Muft my bafe tongue give to my noble heart A lie, that it must bear? Well, I will do't: Yet were there but this fingle Plot to lofe, 4 This mould of Marcius, they to duft fhould grind it, Com. Come, come, we'll prompt you. Vol. Ay, pr'ythee now, fweet Son; as thou haft faid, My praifes made thee firft a Soldier, fo, 3-my unbarbed fence? The fuppliants of the people ufed to prefent themfelves to them in fordid and neglected dreffes. 4-fingle plot- i. e. picce, To have my praise for this, perform a Part Cor. Well, I must do't: Away, my Difpofition, and poffefs me Some Harlot's fpirit! my throat of war be tura Vol. At thy choice then. 8 To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour, Cor. Pray, be content. Mother, I'm going to th' Market-place. Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves, Cog their hearts from them, and come home belov'd Of all the Trades in Rome. Look, I am going. |