To have a Temple built you: all the fwords
In Italy, and her confederate arms,

Could not have made this Peace.

[Exeunt:

SCENE, the Forum, in Rome.

Enter Menenius and Sicinius.

Men. SEE you yond coin o'th' Capitol,yond cornerSic. Why, what of that?

Men. If it be poffible for you to difplace it with your little finger, there is fome hope the ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. But, I fay, there is no hope in't; our throats are fentenc'd, and ftay upon execution.

Sic. Is't poffible, that fo fhort a time can alter the condition of a man?

Men. There is difference between a grub and a butterfly, yet your butterfly was a grub; this Marcius is grown from man to dragon: he has wings, he's more than a creeping thing.

Sic. He lov'd his mother dearly.

Men. So did he me; and he no more remembers his mother now, than an eight years old horse. The tartness of his face fours ripe grapes. When he walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground fhrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corflet with his eye: talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He fits in his State, as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done, is finish'd with his bidding. He wants nothing of a God, but Eternity, and a heaven to throne in.

Sic. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly.

Men. I paint him in the character. Mark, what mercy his mother fhall bring from him; there is no more mercy in him, than there is milk in a male tyger; that shall our poor City find; and all this is long of you. Sic. The Gods be good unto us!

unto us.

Men No, in fuch a cafe the Gods will not be good When we banifh'd him, we respected not them: and he returning to break our necks, they refpect not us.

Enter a Meffenger.

Mef. Sir, if you'd fave your life, fly to your house; The Plebeians have got your fellow-tribune, And hale him up and down; All fwearing, if The Roman Ladies bring not comfort home, They'll give him death by inches.

Enter another Meffenger.

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 th' Expulfion of the Tarquins.

Sic. Friend,

Art certain, this is true? is it most certain ?
Mef. As certain, as I know the Sun 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 Sun dance. Hark you!

Men. This is good news:

[4 fhout within.

I will go meet the Ladies. This Volumnia
Is worth of Confuls, Senators, Patricians,
A City full of Tribunes, fuch as you,

A Sea and Land full. You've pray'd well to day:
This morning, for ten thousand of your throats
I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy!

Sic. First, the Gods blefs
Accept my thankfulness.

[Sound ftill, with the shouts. you for your tidings: next,

Mef.

Mef. Sir, we have all great caufe to give great

thanks.

Sic. They're near the city?

Mef. Almoft at point to enter.

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

[Exeunt.

Enter two Senators, with ladies, paffing over the
ftage; 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 noise, that banish'd Marcius;
Repeal him with the welcome of his mother:
Cry,welcome, Ladies, welcome!

All. Welcome, Ladies, welcome!

[Exeunt.

[A flourish with drums and trumpets.

SCENE changes to a publick Place in Antium.

Enter Tullus Aufidius, with Attendants.

Auf. G Deliver them this paper: having read it,

O tell the Lords o'th' City, I am here:

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.

welcome!

Moft

Enter three or four Confpirators of Aufidius's faction. 1 Con. How is it with our General?

Auf. Even fo,

As with a man by his own alms impoyfon'd,

And with his charity flain.

If

2 Con. Moft noble Sir,

you do hold the fame intent, wherein

I 3

You

You wifh'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 Survivor heir of all.

Auf. I know it;

And my pretext to ftrike 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 ftoutness

When he did stand for Conful, which he loft
By lack of stooping

Auf. That I would have spoke of:

Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth,
Presented 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 best and fretheft men; ferv'd his defignments
In mine own perfon; holpe to reap the Fame,
Which he did make all his; and took some pride
To do my felf this wrong; 'till, at the laft,
I feem'd his follower, not partner; and
He wag'd me with his countenance, as if
I had been mercenary.

I 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 Spoil, 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 shall he die,

And

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 Post, And had no welcomes home; but he returns, Splitting the Air with noife.

2 Con. And patient fools,

Whose children he hath flain, their base throats tear, Giving him glory.

Con. Therefore at your vantage,

Ere he express 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 moft welcome home.
Auf. I have not deserv'd it.

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

All. We have.

I Lord. And grieve to hear it.

What faults he made before the laft, I think,
Might have found eafie fines: but there to end,
Where he was to begin, and give away
The benefit of our Levies, answering us
With our own charge, making a treaty where
There was a yielding, This admits no excufe.
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

I 4

With