Imatges de pÓgina

Rom. The main blaze of it is paft, but a small thing would make it flame again. For the Nobles receive fo to heart the banishment of that worthy Coriolanus, that they are in a ripe aptness to take all power from the People, and to pluck from them their Tribunes for ever. This lyes glowing I can tell you, and is almost mature for the violent breaking out.

Vol. Coriolanus banilh'd ?
Rom. Banish'd, Sir.
Vol. You will be welcome with this intelligence, Nicanor,

Rom. The day serves, well for them now. I have heard it said, the fitteit time, to corrupt a man's wife, is when she's fallen out with her husband. Your noble Tullus Aufidius will appear well in these wars, his great opposer Coriolanus being now in no request with his country.

Vol. He cannot chuse. I am moft fortunate thus acci. dentally to encounter you. You have ended my business, and I will merrily accompany you home.

Rom. I shall between this and supper tell you moft ftrange things from Rome; all tending to the good of their adyerfaries. Have you an army ready, say you ?

Vol. A most royal one. The centurions and their charges diftinctly billeted, already in the entertainment, and to be an foot at an hour's warning.

Rom. I am joyful to hear of their readiness, and am the man, I think, that shall set them in present action. So, Sir, heartily well met, and most glad of your company.

Vol. You take my part from me, Sir, I have the most cause to be glad of yours. Rom. Well, let us go together.

ŞExeunt, Enter Coriolanus in mean Apparel, disguis’d and muffed, · Cor. A goodly city is this Antium, City, 'Tis I that made thy widows : many an heir Of these fair edifices for my wars Have I heard groan, and drop: then know me not, Lest that thy wives with spits, and boys with stones, lo puny battel Nay me. Save you, Sir.

Enter a Citizen.
Cit. And you.

Cor. Direct me, if it be your will, where great Arfordius lyes ; Is he in Antium ?

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Cit. He is, and feasts the Nobles of the State, at his house this night.

Cor. Which is his house, I beseech you?
Cit. This here before you.

Cor. Thank you, Sir: Farewel. [Exit Citizen.
Oh world, thy Nippery turns! friends now faft sworn,
Whose double boroms seem to wear one heart,
Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal and exercise
Are still together ; who twine (as 'twere) in love
Unseparable, shall within this hour,
On a diffention of a doit, break out
To bittereft enmity. So felleft foes,
Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep
To take the one the other, by some chance,
Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends,
And inter-join their issues. So with me ;
My birth-place have I and my lovers left ;
This enemy's house I'll enter; if he Nay me,
He does fair justice ; if he give me way,
I'll do his country service.

[Exit, SCENE IV. A Hall in Aufidius's House.

Mufick plays. Enter a Serving-man. i Ser. Wine, wine, wine! what service is here? I think our fellows are asleep.

[Exit, Enter another Serving-man. 2 Şer. Where's Cotus? my master calls for him, Colus !

[Exit, Enter Coriolanus. Cor. A goodly house ; the feast smells well ; but I Appear not like a guest.

Enter tbe first Serving-man. I Ser. What would you have, friend ? whence are you? here's no place for you : pray go to the door. [Exit,

Cor. I have deserv'd no better entertainment, in being Coriolanus.

Enter second Servant. 2 Ser. Whence are you, Sir ? has the porter his eyes in his head, that he gives entrance to such apanions ? pray get you out. Cor, Away!

2 Ser. Away? - get you away. Cor. Now thou’rt troublesome. 2 Ser. Are you so brave? I'll have you talk'd with anon.

Enter a third Servant. The first meets bim, , 3 Ser. What fellow's this?

i Ser. A frange one as ever I look'd on :- I cannot get him out o'th' house: pr’ythee call my master to him.

Ser. What have you to do here, fellow? pray you avoid the house.

Cor. Let me but ftand, I will not hurt your hearth,
3 Ser. What are you?
Cor. A gentleman.
3 Ser. A marvellous poor one.
Cor. True; so I am.

3 Ser. Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other station, here's no place for you'; pray you avoid : come. Cor. Follow your function, go and batten on cold bits.

[Pufpes bim arvay from bim. 3 Ser. What, will you not ? pr’ythee tell my master, what a strange guest he has here.

2 Ser. And I shall. [Exit fecond Serving-man. 3 Ser. Where dwell'At thou ? Cor. Under the

canopy. 3 Ser. Under the canopy?

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Cor. Ay.

3 Ser. Where's that ?
Cor. l'.th'city of kites and crows.

3 Ser. I'th' city of kites and crows ? what an ass it is! then thou dwell'st with daws too ?

Cor. No, I serve not thy master.
3 Ser. How, Sir! do you meddle with my master ?

Cor. Ay, 'tis an honester service, than to meddle with thy mistress : thou prat'ft, and prat'it; serve with thy trencher : hence !

[Beats bim away. Enter Aufidius, with a Serving-man, Auf. Where is this fellow?

2 Ser. Here, Sir; I'd have beaten him like a dog, but for disturbing the Lords within.

Auf. Whence com'ít thou ? what would'At thou ?. thy name? Why speak'st not? Ipeak, man : what's thy name?


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Cor. If, Tullus, yet thou know't me not, and seeing me, Doft not yet take me for the man I am, Necessity commands me name my self.

Auf. What is thy name?

Cor. A name unmusical to Volscian ears,
And harsh in found to thine,

Auf. Say, what's thy name ?.
Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face
Bears a command in't; though thy tackle’s torn,
Thou shew'ít a noble veffel: what's thy name?

Cor. Prepare thy brow to frown; know't thou me yet?
Auf. I know thee not ; thy name?

Cor. My name is Caius Martius, who hath done
To thee particularly, and to all the Volfcians,
Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may
My Sirname, Coriolanus. The painful service,
The extream dangers, and the drops of blood
Shed for my thankless country, are requited
But with that firname ; a good memorial,
And witness of the malice and displeasure
Which thou should'It bear me ; only that name remaias,
The cruelty and envy of the people,
Permitted by our dastard Nobles, who
Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest;
And suffer'd me by th' voice of Naves to be
Whoop'd out of Rome. Now this extremity
Hath brought me to thy hearth, not out of hope
(Mistake me not) to save my life ; for if
I had fear’d death, of all the men i' th' world
I'd have avoided thee. But in meer spite
To be full quit of those my banishers,
Stand I before thee here : then if thou haft
A heart of wreak in thee, that will revenge
Thine own particular wrongs, and stop those maims
Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee straight,
And make my misery serve thy turn: so use it,
That my revengeful services may prove
As benefits to thee. For I will fight
Against my canker'd country, with the spleen
Of all the under fiends. But if so be


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Thou dar'ft not this, and that to prove more fortunes
Thou’rt tir’d; then in a word I also am,
Longer to live, most weary; and present
My throat to thee, and to thy ancient malice:
Which not to cut, would shew thee but a fool,
Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate,
Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breaft,
And cannot live, but to thy shame, unless
It be to do thee service.

Auf. Oh, Martius, Martius,
Each word thou'st spoke hath weeded from


A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter
Should from yon cloud speak to me things divine,
And say, 'Tis true ; I'd not believe them more
Than thee, all-noble Martius. Let me twine
Mine arms about that body, where-against
My grained ash an hundred times hath broke,
And scar'd the moon with splinters : here I clip
The anvil of my sword, and do contest
As hotly and as nobly with thy love,
As ever in ambitious ftrength I did
Contend against thy valour. Know thou first,
I lov'd the maid I married : never man
Sigh'd truer breath: but, that I fee thee here,
Thou nable thing, more dances my rapt heart,
Than when I first my wedded mistress saw
Befride my threshold. Why, thou Mars, I tell thee,
We have a power on foot; and I had purpose
Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn,
Or lose my arm for’t: thou haft beat me out
Twelve several times, and I have nightly since
Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thy self and me :
We have been down together in my Neep,
Unbuckling helms, fifting each other's throat,
And wak'd half dead with nothing. Worthy Martius,
Had we no quarrel else to Rome, but that
Thou art thence banilh'd, we would mufter all
From twelve to seventy ; and pouring war
Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,
Like a bold flood o'er-bear, O come, go in,


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