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He kill'd my fon, - my daughter,-kill'd my coufin,He kill'd my father. [The Croud Speak promifcuously. 2 Lord. Peace,—no outrage-peace
The man is noble, and his fame folds in
Cor. O that I had him,
With fix Aufidius's, or more, his tribe,
Auf. Infolent villain !
All Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.
[The Confpirators all draw, and kill Marcius, who falls, and Aufidius ftands on him.
Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold.
Auf. My noble mafters, hear me speak. 1 Lord. O Tullus
2 Lord. Thou hast done a deed, whereat Valour will weep.
3 Lord. Tread not upon him-masters all, be quiet; Put up your fwords.
Auf. My Lords, when you shall know (as in this rage Provok'd by him, you cannot) the great danger Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice That he is thus cut off. Please it your Honours To call me to your Senate, I'll deliver
Myfelf your loyal fervant, or endure
Your heaviest cenfure.
1 Lord. Bear from hence his body,
And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded
2 Lord. His own impatience
Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame :
Auf. My rage is gone,
And I am ftruck with forrow: take him
Help, three o'th' chiefeft foldiers; I'll be one.
Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he
[Exeunt, bearing the body of Marcius. A dead March founded.