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And yet to charge thy fulphur with a bolt, (40)
That fhould but rive an oak. Why doft not fpeak?
Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man
Still to remember wrongs? daughter, fpeak you :
He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy;
Perhaps, thy childishness will move him more
Than can our reafons. There's no man in the world
More bound to's mother, yet here he lets me prate
Like one i' th' ftocks. Thou'ft never in thy life
Shew'd thy dear mother any courtesy;

When the, (poor hen) fond of no fecond brood,
Has cluck'd thee to the wars, and fafely home,
Loaden with honour. Say, my requeft's unjust,
And fpurn me back but if it be not fo,
Thou art not honeft, and the gods will plague thee,
That thou reftrain'ft from me the duty, which
To a mother's part belongs.-He turns away:
Down, Ladies; let us fhame him with our knees.
To's fir-name Coriolanus 'longs more pride,
Than pity to our prayers. Down; and end;
This is the laft. So we will home to Rome,
And die among our neighbours: nay, behold us.
This boy, that cannot tell what he would have,
But kneels, and holds up hands for fellowship,
Does reafon our petition with more ftrength
Than thou haft to deny't. Come, let us go:
This fellow had a Volfcian to his mother: (41)
His wife is in Corioli, and this child

(40) And yet to change thy fulphur with a bolt,
That should but rive an oak.]

All the printed copies concur in this reading, but I have certainly
reftor'd the true word. Vid, the 14th note on this play.
(41) This fellow had a Volfcian to bis mother;

His wife is in Corioli; and his child

Like him by chance;---] But tho' his wife was in Corioli, might not his child, nevertheless, be like him? the minute alteration I have made, I am perfuaded, restores the true reading. Volumnia would hint, that Coriolanus by his ftern behaviour had loft all familyregards, and did not remember that he had any child. I am not his mother, (fays fhe) his wife is in Corioli, and this child, whom we bring with us, (young Marcius) is not his child, but only bears his refemblance by chance.

Like him by chance; yet give us our dispatch:
I'm hufht, until our city be afire;
And then I'll speak a little.
Cor. O mother, mother!-

[Holds her by the hands, filent.
What have you done? behold, the heav'ns do ope,
The gods look down, and this unnatural scene
They laugh at. Oh, my mother, mother! oh!
You've won a happy victory to Rome:

But for your fon, believe it, oh, believe it,
Moft dang'roufly you have with him prevail'd,
If not moft mortal to him. Let it come:
Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars,
I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius,
Were you in my ftead, fay, would you have heard
A mother lefs or granted lefs, Aufidius?

Auf. I too was mov'd.

Cor. I dare be fworn, you were;

And, Sir, it is no little thing to make

Mine eyes to sweat compaffion.

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 caufe. O mother! wife!

Auf. I'm glad, thou'ft fet thy mercy and thy honour At difference in thee; out of that I'll work Myself a former fortune.

[Afide. Cor. Ay, by and by; but we will drink together; And you fhall bear [To Vol, Virg. St.

A better witness back than words, which we,
On like conditions, will have counter-feal'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,

SCENE, the Forum, in Rome.

Enter Menenius and Sicinius.

Men. SEE you yond coin o' th' capitol, yond corner

Sic. Why, what of that?

[stone ? Men. If it be poffible for you to difplace it with your little finger, there is fome hope the Ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. But, I fay, there is no hope in't; our throats are fentenc'd, and stay upon execution.

Sic. Is't poffible, that fo fhort 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 Marcius is grown from man to dragon: he has wings, he's more than a creeping thing.

Sic. He lov'd his mother dearly.

Men. So did he me; and he no more remembers his mother now, than an eight years old horfe. The tartness of his face fours ripe grapes. When he walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground fhrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corflet with his eye: talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery, He fits in his itate, as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done, is fiuifh'd 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 fhall bring from him; there is no more mercy in him, than there is milk in a male tyger; that fhall our poor city find; and all this is long of you.

Sic. The gods be good unto us !

Men. No, in fuch a cafe the gods will not be good anto us. When we banith'd him, we refpected not them and he returning to break our necks, they respect not us:

VOL, VI

X

Enter

Enter a Messenger.

Mef. Sis, if you'd fave your life, fly to your house The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune, And hale him up and down; all fwearing, if The Roman Ladies bring not comfort home, They'll give him death by inches.

Enter another Messenger.

Sic. What's the news?

Mef. Good news, good news, the Ladies have prevail'd, The Volfcians are diflodg'd, and Marcius gone: A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,

No, not th' expulfion of the Tarquins.

Sic. Friend,

Art certain, this is true? is it most certain ?
Mef. As certain, as I know the fun is fire:
Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it?
Ne'er through an arch fo hurried the blown tide,
As the recomforted through th' gates. Why, hark you;
[Trumpets, Hautboys, Drums beat, all together.
The trumpets, fackbuts, pfalteries and fifes,
Tabors and cymbals, and the fhouting Romans.
Make the fun dance.. Hark you!

Men. This is good news:

About within.

I will go meet the Ladies. This Volumnia
Is worth of confuls, fenators, patricians,
A city full of tribunes, fuch as you,

A fea and land full. You've pray'd well to-day:
This morning, for ten thousand of your throats
I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy!
[Sound ftill, with the fhouts.
Sia Firft, the gods blefs you for your tidings: next,
Accept my thankfulness.

Mef. Sir, we have all great caufe to give great thanks.
Sic. They're near the city?

Mef. Almost at point to enter.

Sic. We'll meet them, and help the joy.

[Exeunt.

Enter

Enter two Senators, with Ladies, paffing over the ftage;

with other Lords.

Sen. Behold our patronefs, the life of Rome : Call all your tribes together, praise the gods, And make triumphant fires: ftrew flowers before them: Unfhout the noise, that banish'd Marcius ; Repeal him with the welcome of his mother: Cry, welcome, Ladies, welcome!

All. Welcome, Ladies, welcome!

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[Exeunt

[A flourish with drums and trumpets.

SCENE changes to a publick Place in Antium.

Enter Tullus Aufidius, with Attendants.

Auf G Deliver them this paper: having read it,

O tell the Lords o' th' city, I am here:

Bid them repair to th' market-place, where I,
Even in theirs and in the commons' ears,
Will vouch the truth of it. He, I accufe,
The city ports by this hath enter'd; and
Intends t'appear before the people, hoping
To purge himselfwith words. Difpatch..-Moit welcome!

Enter three or four Confpirators of Aufidius's factions.
Con. How is it with our General ?

Auf. Even fo,

As with a man by his own alms impoison'd,,
And with his charity flain..

2 Con. Moft noble Sir,

If you do hold the fame 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, whilft "Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either Makes the furvivor heir of all.

Auf. I know it;

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And my pretext to ftrike at him admits:

X 2

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