Imatges de pÓgina

Enter a Meffenger.

Mef. Sir, if you'd fave your life, fly to your houfe; The plebeians 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.

Enter another Messenger.

Sic. What's the news?

Mef. Good news, good news, the Ladies have prevail'd, The Volfcians are diflodg'd, and Marcius gone: A merrier day did never yet greet Rome, No, not the expulfion of the Tarquins.

Sic. Friend,

Art certain, this is true? is it most certain ?
Mef. As certain, as I know the fun is fire:
Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it?
Ne'er through an arch fo hurried the blown tide,
As the recomforted through th' gates. Why, hark you;
[Trumpets, Hautboys, Drums beat all together.
The trumpets, fackbuts, pfalteries and fifes,
Tabors and cymbals, and the fhouting Romans
Make the fun dance. Hark you!

Men. This is good news:

[About within.

I will go meet the Ladies. This Volumnia
Is worth of confuls, fenators, patricians,
A city full of tribunes, fuch as you,

[ocr errors]

A fea and land full. You've pray'd well to-day :
This morning, for ten thoufand of your throats
I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy!
[Sound fill, with the fhouts.
Sic. First, the gods blefs you for your tidings: next,
Accept my thankfulness.

Mef. Sir, we have all great caufe to give great
Sic. They're near the city?

Mef. Almoft at point to enter.


Si. We'll meet them, and help the joy.



[ocr errors]

Enter two Senators, with Ladies, paffing over the stages
with other Lords.

Sen. Behold our patronefs, the life of Rome :
Call all your tribes together, praise the gods,
And make triumphant fires: ftrew flowers before them ::
Unfhout the noife, that banish'd Marcius ;
Repeal him with the welcome of his mother ::
Cry,-welcome, Ladies, welcome!

All. Welcome, Ladies, welcome!


[A flourish with drums and trumpets.

SCENE changes to a publick Place in Antium..
Enter Tullus Aufidius, with Attendants.



O tell the Lords o' th' city, I am here:
Deliver them this paper: having read it,

Bid them repair to th' market-place, where. I,.

Even in theirs and in the commons' ears,
Will vouch the truth of it. He, I accufe,
The city ports by this hath enter'd ; and
Intends t'appear before the people, hoping

To purge himself with words. Difpatch.--Moft welcome!!

Enter three or four Confpirators of Aufidius's factions. I Con. How is it with our General ?

Auf. Even fo,

As with a man by his own alms imprison'd,,
And with his charity flain.

2 Con. Moft noble Sir,

If you do hold the fame intent, wherein

You wish'd us parties; we'll deliver you:
Of your great danger.

Auf. Sir, I cannot tell;

We must proceed, as we do find the people.

3 Con. The people will remain uncertain, whilft! 'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either Makes the furvivor heir of all.

Auf. I know it;

And my pretext to strike at him admits

A good conftruction. I rais'd him, and pawn'd
Mine honour for his truth; who being fo heighten'd,
He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery,
Seducing fo my friends; and to this end,
He bow'd his nature, never known before
But to be rough, unfwayable, and free.
3 Con. Sir, his ftoutnefs

When he did stand for consul, which he lost
By lack of stooping-

Auf. That I would have spoke of:

Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth,
Prefented to my knife his throat; I took him,
Made him joint fervant with me; gave him way
In all his own defires; nay, let him chuse
Out of my files, his projects to accomplish,
My beft and fresheft men; ferv'd his defignments
In mine own perfon; holpe to reap the fame,
Which he did make all his; and took fome pride
To do myself this wrong; 'till, at the last,
I feem'd his follower, not partner; and
He wag'd me with his countenance, as if
I had been mercenary.

1 Con. So he did, my Lord:

The army marvell'd at it, and, at last,

When he had carried Rome, and that we look'd
For no lefs fpoil, than glory.

Auf. There was it ;

(For which my finews fhall be ftretch'd upon him ;)

At a few drops of women's rheum, which are
As cheap as lies, he fold the blood and labour
Of our great action; therefore fhall he die,
And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark!

[Drums and trumpets found, with great shouts of the people.
1 Con. Your native town you enter'd like a poft,
And had no welcomes home; but he returns,

Splitting the air with noise.

2 Con. And patient fools,

Whofe children he hath flain, their bafe throats tear,
Giving him glory.

3 Con. Therefore, at your vantage,


Ere he exprefs himself, or move the people

With what he would fay, let him feel your fword,

Which we will fecond.

When he lies along,

After your way his tale pronounc'd fhall bury

His reasons with his body.

Auf. Say no more,

Here come the Lords.

Enter the Lords of the City.

All Lords. You're most welcome home.
Auf. I have not deferv'd it.

But, worthy Lords, have you with heed perus'd
What I have written to you?

All. We have.

1 Lord. And grieve to hear it.

What faults he made before the last, I think,
Might have found eafy fines: but there to end,
Where he was to begin, and give away
The benefit of our levies, anfwering us
With our own charge, making a treaty where
There was a yielding; this admits no excuse.
Auf. He approaches, you fhall hear him.

Enter Coriolanus, marching with drums and colours: the
Commons being with him.

Cor. Hail, Lords; I am return'd, your foldier;
No more infected with my country's love,
Than when I parted hence, but ftill fubfifting
Under your great command. You are to know,
That profperously I have attempted, and
With bloody paffage led your wars, even to
The gates of Rome: Our fpoils, we have brought home,
Do more than counterpoife, a full third part,
The charges of the action. We've made peace
With no lefs honour to the Antiates,

Than fhame to th' Romans: and we here deliver,
Subscribed by the confuls and patricians,
Together with the feal o'th' Senate, what

We have compounded on.

Auf. Read it not, noble Lords,


But tell the traitor, in the highest degree
He hath abus'd your powers.

Cor. Traitor!-how now!
Auf. Ay, traitor, Marcius.
Cor. Marcius !-

Auf. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius; doft thou think, I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy ftoln name Coriolanus, in Corioli?

You Lords and heads o' th' ftate, perfidiously
He has betray'd your bufinefs, and given up,
For certain drops of falt, your city Rome;
I fay, your city, to his wife and mother;
Breaking his oath and refolution, like
A twift of rotten filk, never admitting
Counsel o' th' war; but at his nurfe's tears
He whin'd and roar'd away your victory,
That pages blush'd at him; and men of heart
Look'd wond'ring each at other.

Cor. Hear'ft thou, Mars!

Auf. Name not the god, thou boy of tears!-
Cor. Ha!

Auf. No more.

Cor. Meafureless liar, thou haft made my heart
Too great for what contains it. Boy? O flave!·
Pardon me, Lords, 'tis the first time that ever

I'm forc'd to fcold. Your judgments, my grave Lords,,
Muft give this cur the lye; and his own notion,
(Who wears my ftripes impreft upon him; that
Muft bear my beating to his grave;) shall join.
To thrust the lye unto him.

I Lord. Peace both, and hear me fpeak.

Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volfcians, men and lads,
Stain all your edges in me. Boy! falfe hound!
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
That, like an eagle in a dove-coat, I
Flutter'd your Volfcians in Corioli.

Alone I did it. Boy!

Auf. Why, noble Lords,

Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune,.
Which was your fhaine, by this unholy braggart,


« AnteriorContinua »