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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
Cleave in the midft, and perish.

Vol. Pray, be counsell'd;

I have a heart as little apt as yours,
But yet a brain that leads my use of

To better 'vantage.

ufe of anger

Men. Well faid, noble woman :

'Before he should thus ftoop to th' Herd, but that
The violent fit o' th' times craves it as phyfick
For the whole State, I'd put mine armour on,
Which I can scarcely bear.

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,
But when Extremities fpeak. I've heard you fay,
Honour and policy, like unfever'd friends,

I' th' war do grow together; grant That, and tell me
In peace, what each of them by th' other lofes,
That they combine not there?

Cor. Tufh,, tufh

5 Before he should thus floop to th' HEART] This nonfenfe fhould be reformed thus,

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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
The fame you are not, which for your best ends
You call your policy, how is't lefs, or worse,
That it should hold companionship in peace
With Honour, as in War; fince that to both
It stands in like request?

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

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Of no allowance, to your bofom's truth.
Now, this no more difhonours you at all,
Than to take in a Town with gentle words,
Which elfe would put you to your fortune, and
The hazard of much blood.

I would diffemble with my nature, where
My fortunes and my friends at ftake required,
I fhould do fo in honour. I am in this

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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

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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,
Thy knee buffing the ftones; for in fuch business
Action is eloquence, and th' eyes of th' ignorant
More learned than the ears; waving thy head,
Which often, thus, correcting thy ftout heart,
Now humble as the ripeft Mulberry,
That will not hold the handling: or fay to them,
Thou art their Soldier, and being bred in broils,
Haft not the soft way, which thou doft confefs
Were fit for thee to ufe, as they to claim,

*-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

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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
Thy felf (forfooth) hereafter theirs fo far,
As thou haft power and perfon.

Men. This but done,

Ev'n as the fpeaks, why, all their hearts were yours:
For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free,
As words to little purpose.

Vol. Pr'ythee now,

Go and be rul'd; altho', I know, thou'dit rather
Follow thine enemy in a fiery Gulf

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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.

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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,
And throw't against the wind. To th' Market-place!
You've put me now to fuch a Part, which never
I fhall difcharge to th' life.

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,

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To have my praise for this, perform a Part
Thou haft not done before.

Cor. Well, I must do't:

Away, my Difpofition, and poffefs me

Some Harlot's fpirit! my throat of war be tura
s Which quired with my drum, into a pipe
Small as an Eunuch, or the Virgin's voice
That Babies lulls afleep! the fmiles of Knaves
• Tent in my cheeks, and fchool-boys' tears take up
The glaffes of my fight! a Beggar's tongue
Make motion through my lips, and my arm'd knees,
Which bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his
That hath receiv'd an alms! I will not do't,
Left I furceafe' to honour mine own truth,
And, by my body's action, teach my mind
A most inherent baseness.

Vol. At thy choice then.

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To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour,
Than thou of them. Come all to ruin, let
Thy Mother rather feel thy pride, than fear
Thy dangerous ftoutnefs; for I mock at Death
With as big heart as thou. Do, as thoù list:
Thy valiantnefs was mine, thou fuck'dft it from me:
But own thy pride thyself.

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.

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Look, I am going.

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