And take our friendly Senators by th' hands, Cor. You blefs me, Gods! Auf. Therefore, most abfolute Sir, if thou wilt have The leading of thine own revenges, take One half of my commiffion, and fet down, As beft thou art experienc'd, fince thou know'ft Thy country's ftrength and weakness, thine own ways; Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, Or rudely vifit them in parts remote, To fright them, ere deftroy. But come, come in,. Say yea to thy defires. A thousand welcomes, Yet, Martius, that was much. Your hand; moft welcome! SCENE V. Enter two Servants. 1 Ser. Here's a strange alteration. [Exeunt. Ser. By my hand, I had thought to have ftrucken him with a cudgel, and yet my mind gave me, his clothes made a falfe report of him. 1 Ser. What an arm he has! he turn'd me about with his finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top. 2 Ser. Nay, I knew by his face that there was fomething in him. He had, Sir, a kind of face, methought —— I cannot tell how to term it. 1 Ser. He had fo: looking, as it were would I were hanged but I thought there was more in him than I could think. 2 Ser. So did I, I'll be fworn: he is fimply the rareft man i' th' world. 1 Ser. I think he is; but a greater soldier than he, you wot one. 2 Ser. Who? my master? 1 Ser. Nay, it's no matter for that. 2 Ser. Worth fix on him. 1 Ser. Nay, not fo neither; but I take him to be the greater foldier, a Ser z Ser. 'Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to fay that; for the defence of a town, our General is excellent. 1 Ser. Ay, and for an affault too. Enter a third Servant. 3 Ser. Oh flaves, I can tell you news; news, you rafcals. Bob. What, what, what? let's partake. 3 Ser. I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as lieve be a condemn'd man. Both. Wherefore? wherefore? 3 Ser. Why here's he that was wont to thwack our Ge neral, Caius Martius I Ser. Why do you fay, thwack our General ? 3 Ser. I do not fay thwack our General, but he was always good enough for him. 2 Ser. Come, we are fellows and friends; he was ever too hard for him, I have heard him say so himself. 1 Ser. He was too hard for him directly, to say the troth on't: before Corioli, he fcotcht him and notcht him like a carbonado. 2 Ser. And, had he been cannibally given, he might have broil'd and eaten him too. 2 Ser. But more of thy news. 3 Ser. Why, he is fo made on here within, as if he were fon and heir to Mars: fet at upper end o' th' table; no question afk'd him by any of the Senators, but they ftand bald before him. Our General himself makes a miftrefs of him, fanétifies himself with's hands, and turns up the white o' th' eye to his difcourfe. But the bottom of the news is, our General is cut i' th' middle, and but one' half of what he was yesterday. For the other has half, by the intreaty and grant of the whole table. He'll go, he fays, and fowle the porter of Rome gates by th' ears. He will mow down all before him, and leave his paffage poll'd. 2 Ser. And he's as like to do't as any man I can imagine. 3 Ser. Do't! he will do't: for look you, Sir, he has as many friends as enemies; which friends, Sir, as it were durft not (look you, Sir) fhew themfelves (as we term it) his friends, whilst he's in directitude. 1 Ser. Directitude! what's that? 3 Ser 3 Ser. But when they fhall fee, Sir, his cruft up again and the man in blood, they will out of their burroughs (like conies after rain) and revel all with him. I Ser. But when goes this forward ? 3 Ser. To-morrow, to-day, presently, you fhall have the drum ftruck up this afternoon: 'tis as it were a parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips. 2 Ser. Why then we shall have a stirring world again : this peace is worth nothing, but to ruft iron, encrease tailors, and breed ballad-makers. 1 Ser. Let me have war, fay I; it exceeds peace, as far as day does night; it's fprightly, waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy, mull'd, deaf, fleepy, infenfible, a getter of more baftard children than war's a destroyer of men. 2 Ser. 'Tis fo, and as war in fome fort may be faid to be a ravifher, fo it cannot be denied, but peace is a great maker of cuckolds. 1 Ser. Ay, and it makes men hate one another. 3 Ser. Reafon; because they then lefs need one another: the wars for my mony. I hope to see Romans as cheap as Volfcians. They are rifing, they are rifing. Both. In, in, in, in. SCENE VI. ROME. Enter Sicinius and Brutus. [Exeunt. Sic. We hear not of him, neither need we fear him ; His remedies are tame: the prefent peace And quietness of the people, which before Were in wild hurry here, do make his friends Blush, that the world goes well; who rather had, Enter Menenius. Bru. We flood to't in good time. late. Hail, Sir ! Men. Hail to you both! Is this Menenius ? grown moft kind of Sic. Your Coriolanus is not much mifs'd, but with his friends; friends; the commonwealth doth ftand, and fo would do, were he more angry at it. Men. All's well, and might have been much better, if he could have temporiz'd. Sic. Where is he, hear you? Men, Nay, I hear nothing: His mother and his wife hear nothing from him. Enter three or four Citizens. All. The Gods preferve you both! Sic. Good-e'en, neighbours. Bru, Good-e'en to you all, good-e'en to you all. 1 Cit. Our felves, our wives, and children, on our knees Are bound to pray for you both. Sic. Live and thrive! Bru. Farewel, kind neighbours: we wish'd Coriolanus Had lov'd you, as we did. All. Now the Gods keep you! Both Tri. Farewel, farewel. [Exeunt Citizens. Sic. This is a happier and more comely time, Than when these fellows ran about the ftreets, Bru. Caius Martias was A worthy officer i' th' war, but infolent, Sic. And affecting one fole throne, Without affiftants. Men. Nay, I think not fo. Sic. We had by this, to all our lamentation, If he had gone forth Conful, found it so. Bru. The Gods have well prevented it, and Rome Sits fafe and ftill without him. Enter Edile. Ed. Worthy Tribunes, There is a flave, whom we have put in prison, And with the deepeft malice of the war Men. 'Tis Aufidius, N 2 Whe Who hearing of our Martius' banishment, Sic. Come, what talk you of Martius? Bru. Go fee this rumourer whipt. It cannot be, The Volfcians dare break with us. Men. Cannot be ! Within my age. We have record that very well it can, Sic. Tell not me: I know this cannot be. Bru. Not poffible. Enter a Meffenger, Mef. The Nobles in great earnestness are going Sic. 'Tis this flave: Go whip him 'fore the people's eyes: his raifing! Mef. Yes, worthy Sir, The flave's report is feconded, and more, Sic. What more fearful? Mef. It is fpoke freely out of many mouths, Sic. This is most likely ! Bru. Rais'd only, that the weaker fort may wish Good Martius home again. Sic. The very trick on't. Men. This is unlikely. He |