Ere he exprefs himself, or move the people Which we will fecond. After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury, His reafons with his body. Auf. Say no more, Here come the Lords. Enter the Lords of the City.. All Lords. You're most welcome home. But, worthy Lords, have you with heed perus'd All. We have. 1 Lord. And grieve to hear it. What faults he made before the laft, I think, Enter Coriolanus, marching with drums and colours; the Cor. Hail, Lords ;. I am return'd, your foldier ; The gates of Rome: Our spoils, we have brought home, Than fhame to th' Romans and we here deliver, Auf. Read it not, noble Lords. But But tell the traitor, in the highest degree Auf. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius; doft thou think, I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stoln name Coriolanus, in Corioli? You Lords and heads o' th' ftate, perfidiously Cor. Hear'ft thou, Mars Auf. Name not the god, thou boy of tears!- Auf. No more.. Cor. Meafureless liar, thou haft made my heart Too great for what contains it. Boy? O flave!— Pardon me, Lords, 'tis the first time that ever I'm forc'd to fcold. Your judgments, my grave Lords, Must give this cur the lye; and his own notion, (Who wears my ftripes impreft upon him; that Muft bear my beating to his grave;) shall join To thruft the lye 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!you have writ your annals true, 'tis there, That, like an eagle in a dove-coat, L If 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 shame, by this unholy braggart, 'Fort 'Fore your own eyes and ears? All Con. Let him die for't. All People. Tear him to pieces, do it prefently :: The man is noble, and his fame folds in Cor. O that I had him, With fix Aufidius's, or more, his tribe, Auf. Infolent villain ! All Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him. [The Confpirators all draw, and kill Marcius, who falls, and Aufidius ftands on him. Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold. Auf. My noble mafters, hear me fpeak.. 2 Lord. Thou haft done a deed, whereat Valour will weep. 3 Lord. Tread not upon him-mafters all, be quiet; Put up your swords. 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. Lord. Bear from hence his body, And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded As the most noble coarfe, that ever herald z Lord. His own impatience Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame: Auf. My rage is gone, And I am ftruck with forrow: take him up: Help, Help, three o' th' chiefeft foldiers; I'll be one. (42) [Exeunt,bearing the body of Marcius. Adead march founded. (42) Help, three o' th' chiefeft foldiers; I'll be one.]. Not one of the three, but one to affift them: he would make the fourth man. So, in the conclufion of Hamlet; |