Than when I parted hence, but ftill fubfifting
Under your great Command. You are to know,
That profperously I have attempted, and
With bloody paffage led your wars, even to

The gates of Rome. Our fpoils, we have brought home,

Do more than counterpoife, a full third part,

The charges of the action.

With no less honour to the

We've made peace
Antiates,

Than fhame to th' Romans: and we here deliver,
Subscribed by the Confuls and Patricians,
Together with the feal o' th' Senate, what
We have compounded on.

Auf. Read it not, noble lords,

But tell the traitor, in the highest degree
He hath abus'd your powers.

Cor. Traitor!-how now!
Auf. Ay, traitor, Marcius.

Cor. Marcius!

Auf. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius; doft thou think, I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy ftol'n name Coriolanus in Corioli?

You Lords and Heads o' th' State, perfidiously
He has betray'd your bufinefs, and given up
For certain drops of falt, your city Rome,
I fay, your city, to his wife and mother;
Breaking his oath and refolution, like
A twift of rotten filk; never admitting
Counsel o' th' war, but at his nurse's tears
He whin'd and roar'd away your victory,
That Pages blufh'd at him; and men of heart
Look'd wondring each at other.

Cor. Hear'ft thou, Mars!

Auf. Name not the God! thou boy of tears!
Cor. Ha!

Auf. No more.

Cor. Measureless liar, thou haft made my heart Too great for what contains it. Boy? O nave!VOL. VI.

Sf

Par

Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever
I'm forc'd to fcold. Your judgments, my grave lords,
Muft give this Cur the Lie; and his own Notion,
Who wears my ftripes impreft upon him, that
Muft bear my beating to his Grave, fhall join
To thruft the lie unto him.

1 Lord. Peace both, and hear me speak.

Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volfcians, men and lads,
Stain all your edges in me. Boy! Falfe hound!
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
That, like an eagle in a dove-coat, I
Flutter'd your Volfcians in Corioli.
Alone I did it. Boy!-

Auf. Why, noble lords,

Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your fhame, by this unholy braggart 'Fore your own eyes and ears?

All Con. Let him die for't.

All People. Tear him to pieces, do it presently.

(The Croud fpeak promifcuously. He kill'd my fon,-my daughter,-kill'd my coufin,He kill'd my father.

2 Lord. Peace,-no outrage-peaceThe man is noble, and his Fame folds in This Orb o' th' earth; his last offences to us

Shall have judicious Hearing. Stand, Aufidius,
And trouble not the peace.

Cr. O that I had him,

With fix Aufidius's, or more, his tribe,

To ufe my lawful fword

Auf. Infolent villain!

All Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.

[The confpirators all draw, and kill Marcius who falis, and Aufidius ftands on bim.

Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold.

Auf. My noble Mafters, hear me speak.

7 his fine folds in

This ob o' th' earth.-] His fame overspreads the world.

I Lord.

1 Lord. O Tullus

2 Lord. Thou haft done a deed, whereat Valour will weep.

3 Lord. Tread not upon him-mafters all, be quiet; Put up your fwords.

Auf. My lords, when you fhall know, as in this rage Provok'd by him you cannot, the great danger Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice That he is thus cut off. Please it your Honours To call me to your Senate, I'll deliver Myfelf your loyal fervant, or endure Your heaviest cenfure.

I Lord. Bear from hence his body,

And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded
As the most noble Coarfe, that ever Herald
Did follow to his urn.

2 Lord. His own impatience

Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.
Let's make the beft of it.

Auf. My Rage is gone,

And I am truck with forrow. Take him up:
Help three o' th' chiefeft foldiers; I'll be one.
Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully.
Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he
Hath widowed and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail the injury,
Yet he shall have a noble memory.

T

[Exeunt, bearing the body of Marcius. A dead March founded.

HE Tragedy of Coriolanus is one of the most amufing of our authour's performances. The old man's merriment in Menenius; the lofty lady's dignity in Volumnia; the bridal modefty in Virgilia; the patrician and military haughtinefs in Coriolanus; the plebeian malignity,

and tribunitian infolence in Brutus and Sicinius, make a very pleafing and interesting variety: and the various revolutions of the hero's fortune fill the mind with anxious curiofity. There is, perhaps, too much buftle in the first act, and too little in the laft.

The END of the SIXTH VOLUME.

EP