And made what work I pleas'd: 'tis not my blood, Wherein thou fee'ft me mask'd; for thy revenge, Wrench up thy power to th' highest.

Auf. Wert thou the Hector,

That was the whip of your bragg'd Progeny,
Thou should'st not 'scape me here.

[Here they fight, and certain Volfcians come to the
aid of Aufidius. Marcius fights, 'till they be
driven in breathless.

Officious, and not valliant!-you have fham'd me In your condemned Seconds.

Flourish. Alarm. A retreat is founded.

Enter at one door, Cominius with the Romans; at another door, Marcius, with his arm in a scarf.

Com. If I fhould tell thee o'er this thy day's work Thou'lt not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it, Where Senators fhall mingle tears with smiles; Where great Patricians fhall attend and fhrug; I' th' end, admire; where ladies fhall be frighted, And, gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dull Tribunes,

That with the fufty Plebeians, hate thine honours,
Shall fay, against their hearts,—We thank the Gods,
Our Rome hath fuch a foldier!-

Yet cam'ft thou to a morfel of this feaft,
Having fully din'd before.

Enter Titus Lartius with his Power, from the purfuit.

Lart. O General,

Here is the fleed, we the caparison :

Hadft thou beheld

Mar. Pray now, no more: my Mother, Who has a charter to extol her blood, When fhe does praife me, grieves me:

I have done as you have done; that's, what I can : Induc'd, as you have been; that's for my Country; He, that has but effected his good will,

Hath overta'en mine act.

Com. You fhall not be

The Grave of your deserving: Rome must know
The value of her own: 'twere a concealment
Worfe than a theft, no lefs than a traducement,
To hide your Doings; and to filence that,
Which, to the fpire and top of praises vouch'd,
Would feem but modeft: therefore, I beseech you,
In fign of what you are, (not to reward
What you have done,) before our army

hear me.

Mar. I have fome wounds upon me, and they smart To hear themselves remembred.

Com. Should they not,

Well might they fefter 'gainst ingratitude,

And tent themselves with death: Of all the horses,
Whereof we have ta'en good, and good store, of all
The treasure in the field atchiev'd, and city,
We render you the tenth, to be ta'en forth,
Before the common diftribution, at
Your only choice.

Mar. I thank you, General:

But cannot make my heart confent to take
A bribe, to pay my fword: I do refuse it,
And ftand upon my common part with those
That have beheld the doing.

A long flourish. They all cry, Marcius, Marcius! caft up their caps and launces: Cominius and Lartius ftand bare. [fane, Mar. May thefe fame inftruments, which you proNever found more! when drums and trumpets fhall *I' th' field prove flatterers, let camps, as cities,

*I, th' field, prove flatterers, let Courts and Cities
Be made all of falfe-fac'd foothing.

When Steel grows foft as the parafite's Silk,
Let him be made an overture for th' wars :-

All here is mifer

ably corrupt and disjointed. We fhould read the whole thus,

I th' field, prove flatterers, let Camps, as Cities,

Be made of falfe-fac'd foothing! When Steel grows
Soft as the Parafile's Silk, let Hymns be made

An overture for th' Wars!

Warb.
Be

Be made of false-fac'd foothing! When fteel grows
Soft as the parasite's filk, let Hymns be made
An overture for th' wars !-No more, I fay;
For that I have not wash'd my Nose that bled,
Or foil'd fome debile wretch, which, without note
Here's many elfe have done; you fhout me forth
In acclamations hyperbolical;

As if I lov'd, my little fhould be dieted
In praises fauc'd with lies.

Čom. Too modest are you:

More cruel to your good report, than grateful
To us, that give you truly: by your patience,
If 'gainst yourself you be incens'd, we'll put you
(Like one that means his proper harm) in manacles;
Then reafon fafely with you: therefore, be it known,
As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius
Wears this war's garland: in token of the which,
My noble fteed, known to the Camp, I give him,
With all his trim belonging; and, from this time,
For what he did before Corioli, call him,

With all th' applause and clamour of the Hoft,
Caius Marcius Coriolanus. Bear th' addition nobly
ever. [Flourish. Trumpets found and drums.

Omnes. Caius Marcius Coriolanus!

Mar. I will go wash:

And when my face is fair, you shall perceive

Whether I blush or no.

Howbeit, I thank you.

I mean to ftride your Steed, and at all time
To undercreft your good Addition,

To th' fairness of my Power.

Com. So, to our tent:

Where, ere we do repofe us, we will write
To Rome of our fuccefs: you, Titus Lartius,
Muft to Corioli back; fend us to Rome
The best, with whom we may articulate,
For their own good, and ours.

Lart. I fhall, my lord.

Mar. The Gods begin to mock me:

I, that but now refus'd most princely gifts,.
Am bound to beg of my lord General.
Com. Take't, 'tis yours: what is't?
Mar. I fometime lay here in Corioli,
At a poor man's house: he us'd me kindly.
He cry'd to me: I faw him prisoner:
But then Aufidius was within my view,

And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you
To give my poor Hoft Freedom.

Com. O'well begg'd!

Were he the butcher of my fon, he should
Be free as is the wind: deliver him, Titus.
Lart. Marcius, his name?

Mar. By Jupiter, forgot :

I am weary; yea, my memory is tir'd:

Have we no wine here?

Com. Go we to our tent;

The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time
It should be look'd to: come.

SCENE

[Exeunt.

XII.

Changes to the Camp of the Volfci.

A Flourish. Cornet. Enter Tullus Aufidius bloody,

with two or three Soldiers.

HE town is ta'en.

Auf. Th

Sol. 'Twill be deliver'd back on good condition.

Auf Condition!

I would, I were a Roman; for I cannot,
Being a Volfcian, be that I am.

Condition?

What good condition can a treaty find

1 th part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius,
I have fought with thee, fo often haft thou beat me:
And would't do fo, fhould we encounter
As often as we eat. By th' Elements,
If e'er again I meet him beard to beard,

He's

He's mine, or I am his: mine emulation
Hath not that honour in't, it had; for where
I thought to crush him in an equal force,

True Sword to Sword; I'll potch at him fome way, Or wrath, or craft may get him.

Sol. He's the Devil.

Auf. Bolder, tho' not fo fubtle: my valour (poifon'd,

With only fuffering flain by him) for him
Shall fly out of itself: not fleep nor fanctuary,
Being naked, fick, nor fane, nor Capitol,
The prayers of priests, nor times of facrifice,
Enbarrments all of fury, fhall lift up

Their rotten privilege and coftom 'gainst
My hate to Marcius. Where I find him, were it
At home, upon my brother's guard, even there,
Against the hofpitable Canon, would I

Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to th' city;
Learn, how 'tis held: and what they are, that must
Be hoftages for Rome.

Sol. Will not you go?

Auf. I am attended at the cyprefs grove. I pray you, ('Tis South the city-mills) bring me word thither How the world goes, that to the pace of it

I may spur on my journey.

Sol. I fhall, Sir.

[Exeunt.

ACT II. S CE NE I

ROM E.

Enter Menenius, with Sicinius and Brutus.

TH

MENENIU S.

HE Augur tells me, we fhall have news to night.

Bru. Good or bad?

Men.