Imatges de pàgina
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if he had ftaid by him, I would not have been fo fidius'd for all the chefts in Corioli, and the gold that's in them. Is the Senate poffeft of this?

Vol. Good Ladies, let's go.

Yes, yes, yes: the Senate has letters from the General, wherein he gives my fon the whole name of the war: he hath in this action out-done his former deeds doubly.

Val. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him. Men. Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchafing.

Vir. The Gods grant them true!

Vol. True? pow waw.

Men. True? I'll be fworn they are true.

Where is he

wounded? God fave their good Worfhips *! Martius is coming home; he has more cause to be proud: - where is he wounded?

Val. I'th' fhoulder, and i'th' left arm; there will be large cicatrices to fhew the people, when he fhall stand for his place. He receiv'd in the repulse of Tarquin seven hurts i'th' body.

Men. One i'th' neck, and one too i'th' thigh; there's nine that I know.

Vol. He had, before his laft expedition, twenty five wounds upon him.

Men. Now 'tis twenty feven: every gafh was an enemy's grave. Hark, the trumpets. [Afbout and flourish. Vol. These are th' ufhers of Martius; before him

He carries noife, behind him he leaves tears:
Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lye,
Which being advanc'd declines, and then men die.
SCENE III.

Trumpets found. Enter Cominius the General and Titus Lartius; between them Coriolanus, crown'd with an oaken garland, with Captains and Soldiers, and a Herald.

Her. Know, Rome, that all alone Martius did fight Within Corioli gates, where he hath won,

Meaning the Tribunes.

1 2

With

With fame, a name to Caius Martius.

Welcome to Rome, renown'd Coriolanus! [Sound. Flourish. All. Welcome to Rome, renown'd Coriolanus!

Cor. No more of this, it does offend my heart; Pray now, no more.

Com. Look, Sir, your mother.

Cor. Oh!

You have, I know, petition'd all the Gods

For my profperity.

Vol. Nay, my foldier, up:

My gentle Martius, my worthy Caius,
By deed-atchieved honour newly nam'd,
What is it, Coriolanus, muft I call thee?

But oh, thy wife

Cor. My gracious filence, hail!

[Kneels.

Would't thou have laugh'd, had I come coffin'd home,
That weep'ft to fee me triumph? ah, my dear,
Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear,

And mothers that lack fons.

Men. Now the Gods crown thee!

Cor. And live you yet?O my sweet Lady, pardon.

[To Val. Vol. I know not where to turn. O welcome home; And welcome, General! y'are welcome all.

Men. A hundred thousand welcomes: I could weep,
And I could laugh, I'm light and heavy; welcome!
A curfe begin at very root on's heart

That is not glad to fee thee! You are three

That Rome fhould dote on: yet by the faith of men,
We've fome old crab-trees here at home, that will not
Be grafted to your relish. Welcome, warriors!

We call a nettle, but a nettle, and

The faults of fools, but folly.

Com. Ever right.

Cor. Menenius, ever, ever.

Her, Give way there, and go on.

Cor. Your hand, and yours.

Ere in our own houfe I do fhade my head,

The good Patricians must be visited,

From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings,

But

But with them, charge of honour.

Vol. I have lived,

To fee inherited my very wishes,

And buildings of my fancy; only one thing
Is wanting, which I doubt not but our Rome
Will caft upon thee.

Cor. Know, good mother, I

Had rather be their fervant in my way,

Than fway with them in theirs.

Com. On, to the Capitol.

[Flourish. Cornets. [Exeunt in ftate, as before.

SCENE IV. Enter Brutus and Sicinius.

Bru. All tongues fpeak of him, and the bleared fights. Are fpectacled to fee him. Your pratling nurse

Into a rapture lets her baby cry,

While the chats him: the kitchen maukin pins
Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck,

Clambring the walls to eye him; ftalls, bulks, windows,
Are fmother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges hors'd
With variable complexions; all agreeing

In earneftnefs to fee him: feld-fhown Flamens
Do prefs among the popular throngs, and puff
To win a vulgar ftation; our veil'd dames
Commit the war of white and damask in
Their nicely gawded cheeks, to th' wanton spoil
Of Phoebus' burning kiffes; fuch a pother,
As if that whatsoever God who leads him,
Were flily crept into his human powers,
And gave him graceful posture.

Sic. On the fudden,

I warrant him Conful.

Bru. Then our office may,

During his power, go fleep.

Sic. He cannot temp'rately tranfport his honours, From where he fhould begin and end, but will

Lose those he'ath won.

Bru. In that there's comfort.

Sic. Doubt not

The commoners, for whom we ftand, but they
Upon their ancient malice will forget

With

With the leaft cause these his new honours; which
That he will give, make I as little question
As he is proud to do't.

Bru. I heard him fwear,

Were he to ftand for Conful, never would he
Appear i'th' market-place, nor on him put
The napless veiture of humility,

Nor fhewing, as the manner is, his wounds
To th' people, beg their stinking breaths.
Sic. 'Tis right.

Bru. It was his word: oh, he would miss it, rather
Than carry it, but by the fuit o'th' Gentry,

And the defire o'th' Nobles.

Sic. I wifh no better,

Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it
In execution.

Bru. 'Tis moft like he will.

Sic. It fhall be to him then, as our good wills; A fure deftruction.

Bru. So it muft fall out

To him, or our authorities. For our end,
We must fuggeft the people, in what hatred

He ftill hath held them; that to's power he would
Have made them mules, filenc'd their pleaders, and
Difproperty'd their freedoms: holding them,
In human action and capacity,

Of no more foul nor fitness for the world,
Than camels in the war, who have their provender
Only for bearing burthens, and fore blows
For finking under them.

Sic. This, as you fay, fuggefted

At fome time when his foaring infolence

Shall touch the people, (which time shall not want,
I he be put upon't, and that's as eafie,

As to fet dogs on fheep) will be the fire
To kindle their dry ftubble; and their blaze
Shall darken him for ever.

Enter a Messenger.

Bru. What's the matter?

Mef. You're fent for to the Capitol: 'tis thought

That

That Martius fhall be Conful: I have feen

The dumb men throng to fee him, and the blind
To hear him speak; the matrons flung their gloves,
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs,
Upon him as he pafs'd; the Nobles bended

As to Jove's ftatue, and the Commons made
A fhower and thunder with their caps and fhouts :
I never faw the like.

Bru. Let's to the Capitol,

And carry with us ears and eyes for th' time,
But hearts for the event.

Sic. Have with you.

SCENE

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The Capitol.

Enter two Officers, to lay cushions.

1 Off. Come, come, they are almost here; how many ftand for Confulfhips?

2 Off. Three they fay; but 'tis thought of every one, Coriolanus will carry it.

1 Off. That's a brave fellow, but he's vengeance proud, and loves not the common people.

2 Off. 'Faith, there have been many great men that have flatter'd the people, who ne'er lov'd them, and there be many that they have loved they know not wherefore; fo that if they love they know not why, they hate upon no better a ground. Therefore, for Coriolanus neither to care whether they love, or hate him, manifefts the true knowledge he has in their difpofition, and out of his noble careleffness he let's them plainly fee't.

1 Off. If he did not care whether he had their love or no, he waved indifferently 'twixt doing them neither good, nor harm: but he feeks their hate with greater devotion than they can render it him; and leaves nothing undone, that may fully discover him their oppofite. Now to feem to affect the malice and displeasure of the people, is as bad as that which he diflikes, to flatter them for their love.

2 Off. He hath deserved worthily of his country and his afcent is not by fuch easy degrees as theirs who have been fupple and courteous to the people bonneted, without any further deed to heave them at all into their eftimation and report but he hath fo planted his honours in their

eyes,

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