Men. Be gone; Put not your worthy rage into your tongue; Cor. On fair ground, I could beat forty of them. Men. I could myself Take up a brace of the best of them; yea, the two tribunes. Com. But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic; Men. Pray you, be gone. 'll try whether my old wit be in request With those that have but little; this must be patch'd With cloth of any colour. Com. Nay, come away. [Exeunt Cor. Com. and others. 1 Put. This man has marr'd his fortune. Men. His nature is too noble for the world: He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Or Jove for his power to thunder. His heart's his mouth: What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent; And, being angry, does forget that ever He heard the name of death. [A Noise within. Here's goodly work! 2 Pat. I would they were a-bed! Men. I would they were in Tyber!-What, the vengeance, Could he not speak them fair? Re-enter BRUTUS and SICINIUS, with the Rabble. That would depopulate the city, and Men. You worthy tribunes, Sic. He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock With rigorous hands; he hath resisted law, And therefore law shall scorn him further trial tail The lowest of the populace; tag, rag, and bob 1 Cit. He shall well know, The noble tribunes are the people's mouths, Cit. He shall, sure on't.. Men. Sir, Sic. Peace. [Several speak together. Men. Do not cry, havock †, where you should but hunt With modest warrant. Sic. Sir, how comes it, that you As I do know the consul's worthiness, Sic. Consul!-What consul? Cit. No, no, no, no, no. Men. If, by the tribunes' leave, and yours, good people, I may be heard, I'd crave a word or two: Sic. Speak briefly then; For we are peremptory, to despatch This viperous traitor: to eject him hence, Men. Now the good gods forbid, That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude Sic. He's a disease, that must be cut away. What has he done to Rome, that's worthy death? Were to us all, that do't, and suffer it, A brand to the end o' the world. Be sure on't. Deserving. VOL. IV. + The signal for slaughter. Hhh Sic. This is clean kam. Bru. Merelyt awry: when he did love his country, It honour'd him. Men. The service of the foot Being once gangrened, is not then respected Bru. We'll hear no more : Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence; Lest his infection, being of catching nature, Spread further. Men. One word more, one word. This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find The harm of unscann'd swiftnesst, will, too late, Tie leaden pounds to his heels. Proceed by pro cess; Lest parties (as he is beloved) break out, Bru. If it were so, Sic. What do ye talk? Have we not had a taste of his obedience? wars Since he could draw a sword, and is ill school'd 1 Sen. Noble tribunes, It is the humane way: the other course Sic. Noble Menenius, Be you then as the people's officer: Sic. Meet on the market-place:-We'll atten Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed In our first way. Men. I'll bring him to you : Let me desire your company. [To the Senators. He must come. Quite awry. + Absolutely. Finely sifted. Or what is worst will follow. [Exeunt. SCENE II.—A Room in Coriolanus's House. Enter CORIOLANUS, and PATRICIANS. me Death on the wheel, or at wild horses' heels; Enter VOLUMNIA. 1 Pat. Yon do the nobler. Cor. I muse, my mother Does not approve me further, who was wont [To Volumnia. Vol. O, Sir, Sir, Sir, I would have had you put your power well on, Cor. Let go. Vol. You might have been enough the man you are, With striving less to be so lesser had been The thwartings of your dispositions, if You had not shew'd them how you were disposed Cor. Let them hang. Vol. Ay, and burn too. Enter MENENIUS, and SENATORS. Men. Come, come, you have been too rough, something too rough; You must return, and anend it. 1 Sen. There's no remedy; • Wonder. + Rank. Unless, by not so doing, our good city Vol. Pray be counsel'd: I have a heart as little apt as yours, Men. Well said, noble woman : Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but that Cor. What must I do? Men. Return to the tribunes. Cor. Well, What then? What then? Men. Repent what you have spoke. Cor. For them?-I cannot do it to the gods; Must I then do't to them? Vol. You are too absolute; Though therein you can never be too noble, say, Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends, me, In peace, what each of them by th' other lose, Cor. Tush, tush! Men. A good demand. Vol. If it be honour, in your wars, to seem The same you are not (which, for your best ends, You adopt your policy), how is it less, or worse, That it shall hold companionship in peace With honour, as in war; since that to both It stands in like request? Cor. Why force you this? Vol. Because that now it lies you on to speak To the people; not by your own instruction, Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you to, But with such words that are but roted in Your tongue, though but bastards, and syllables Of no allowance, to your bosom's truth. Now, this no more dishonours you at all, Than to take in a town with gentle words, Which else would put you to your fortune, and • Urge. + Subdue. |