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Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts,
Conftrains them weep, and shake with fear and forrow;
Making the mother, wife, and child, to fee

The fon, the husband, and the father, tearing
His country's bowels out. And to poor we,
Thine enmity's moft capital: thou barr'ft us
Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort
That all but we enjoy: For how can we,
Alas! how can we for our country pray,
Whereto we are bound; together with thy victory,
Whereto we are bound? Alack! or we must lofe
The country, our dear nurfe; or elfe thy perfon,
Our comfort in the country. We must find
An evident calamity, though we had

Our wish, which fide fhould win: for either thou
Muft, as a foreign recreant, be led

With manacles thorough our streets; or else
Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin;
And bear the palm, for having bravely shed
Thy wife and children's blood. For myfelf, fon,
I purpose not to wait on fortune, till

Thefe wars determine* : if I cannot perfuade thee
Rather to fhew a noble grace to both parts,
Than feek the end of one, thou shalt no fooner
March to affault thy country, than to tread

(Truft to't, thou shalt not,) on thy mother's womb,
That brought thee to this world.

Virg. Ay, and mine,

That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name
Living to time.

Boy. He fhall not tread on me;

I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I'll fight.
Cor. Not of a woman's tenderness to be,

Requires nor child nor woman's face to fee.
I have fat too long.

Vol. Nay, go not from us thus.

If it were fo, that our requeft did tend

[rifing.

* Conftrains them queep, and shake—] That is, conftrains the eye to weep, and the heart to fake. JOHNSON.

Thefe wars determine ;] That is, end. See Vol. V. p. 403, n. r.

MALONE.

To

To fave the Romans, thereby to destroy

The Volces whom you ferve, you might condemn us,
As poisonous of your honour: No; our fuit

Is, that you reconcile them: while the Volces
May fay, This mercy we have shew'd; the Romans,
This we receiv'd; and each in either side
Give the all-hail to thee, and cry, Be bleft
For making up this peace! Thou know'ft, great fon
The end of war's uncertain; but this certain,
That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit
Which thou shalt thereby reap, is fuch a name,
Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curfes;
Whofe chronicle thus writ,-The man was noble,
But with his last attempt he wip'd it out;
Deftroy'd his country; and his name remains
To the enfuing age, abhorr'd. Speak to me, fon:
Thou hast affected the fine ftrains of honour",
To imitate the graces of the gods;

To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o'the air,
And yet to charge thy fulphur 3 with a bolt

That should but rive an oak. Why doft not speak?
Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man
Still to remember wrongs?-Daughter, speak you:
He cares not for your weeping.-Speak thou, boy;
Perhaps, thy childishness will move him more

Than can our reafons.-There is no man in the world More bound to his mother; yet here he lets me prate, Like one i' the ftocks+. Thou haft never in thy life

2 — the fine ftrains of bonour,-] The niceties, the refinements.

JOHNSON.

The old copy has five. The correction was made by Dr. Johnson. I should not have mentioned such a manifest errour of the prefs, but that it justifies a correction that I have made in Romeo and Juliet, A&I. another in Timon of Athens; and a third that has been made in A MidJummer Night's Dream. See Vol. II. p. 512, n 7. MALONE.

3 And yet to charge thy fulphur-] The old copy has change. The correction is Dr. Warburton's. In The Taming of the Shrew, A&t III. fc. i. charge is printed inftead of change. MALONE.

The meaning of the paffage is, To threaten much, and yet be merci, ful. WARBURTON.

4 Like one i' the frocks.] Keeps me in a state of ignominy talking to no purpofe. JOHNSON.

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Shew'd

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 his furname Coriolanus 'longs more pride,
Than pity to our prayers. Down; An 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 5 with more strength
Than thou haft to deny't.-Come, let us go:
This fellow had a Volcian to his mother;
His wife is in Corioli, and his child

Like him by chance:-Yet give us our dispatch:
I am hufh'd until our city be afire,
And then I'll fpeak a little.

Cor. Mother, mother"!

[holding Volumnia by the hands, filent, What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, The gods look down, and this unnatural scene They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O! You have won a happy victory to Rome: But, for your fon,-believe it, O, believe it, Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd, If not most mortal to him. But, let it come:Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars, I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius,

5 Does reafon our petition-] Does argue for us and our petition. JOHNSON.

• Mother, mother -] So, in the old translation of Plutarch : “ Oh mother, what have you done to me? And holding her harde by the right hande, oh mother, fayed he, you have wonne a happy victorie for your countrie, but mortall and unhappy for your fonne: for I fee myfelf vanquished by you alone." STEEVENS.

Were

Were you in my ftead, would you have heard
A mother lefs? or granted lefs, Aufidius?
Auf. I was mov'd withal.

Cor. I dare be fworn, you were:

And, fir, it is no little thing, to make

Mine eyes to sweat compaflion. But, good fir,
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!

295

huf. I am glad, thou haft fet thy mercy and thy honour At difference in thee: out of that I'll work

Myfelf a former fortune".

[Afide.

[The Ladies make figns to Coriolanus. Cor. Ay, by and by; [To Volumnia, Virgilia, &. But we will drink together; and you shall bear 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 fwords In Italy, and her confederate arms, Could not have made this peace.

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[Exeunt

Men. See you yond' coign o' the Capitol; yond' cornertone?

Sic. Why, what of that?

Men. If it be poffible for you to difplace it with your little finger, there is fome hope the ladies of Rome, efpe

-beard is here ufed as a diffyllable. See Vol. V. p. 209, n. *. The modern editors read—fay, would you have heard—.

7- I'll work

MALONE.

Myfelf a former fortune.] I will take advantage of this conceffion to restore myself to my former credit and power. JoHNSON.

To bave a temple built you :] Plutarch informs us, that a temple dedicated to the Fortune of the Ladies, was built on this occasion by order of the fenate. STEEVENS.

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cially

cially his mother, may prevail with him. But, I fay, there is no hope in't; our throats are sentenced, and stay upon execution.

Sic. Is't poffible, that fo fhort a time can alter the condition of a man?

Men. There is differency 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 year 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 ftate, as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done, is finish'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; and 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 unto us. When we banish'd him, we refpected not them; and, he returning to break our necks, they refpect not us.

Enter a Meffenger.

Mef. Sir, if you'd fave your life, fly to your houfe:
The plebéians have got your fellow-tribune,
And hale him up and down; all swearing, if
The Roman ladies bring not comfort home,
They'll give him death by inches.

9-than an eight year old borfe.] Sub intelligitur remembers bis dam.

WARBURTON.

He fits in bis ftate, &c.] In a foregoing note he was faid to fit in gold. The phrafe, as a thing made for Alexander, means, as one made to refemble Alexander. JOHNSON.

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His fate means his chair of flate. See the paffage quoted from Plutarch, in p. 282, n. 9; and Vol. IV. p. 367, n. 7. MALONE.

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