[rogues,

Enter Caius Marcius.

Hail, noble Marcius!

Mar. Thanks. What's the matter, you diffentious That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,

Make yourselves fcabs ?

2 Cit. We have ever your good word.

Mar. He, that will give good words to thee, will flatter Beneath abhorring. What would you have, ye curs, That like nor peace, nor war? The one affrights you, The other makes you proud. He that trufs to you, Where he fhould find you lions, finds you hares: Where foxes, geefe: You are no furer, no, Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,

Or hailstone in the fun. Your virtue is,

To make him worthy, whose offence fubdues him,'
And curfe that juftice, did it. Who deferves greatnefs,
Deferves your hate; and your affections are

A fick man's appetite, who defires most that
Which would increase his evil. He, that depends
Upon your favours, fwims with fins of lead,

And hews down oaks with rufhes. Hang ye-truft ye!
With every minute you do change a mind,

printed in 1595, we find the word fpelt as it ought. And it was a term familiar both with authors prior in time, and contemporaries with Shakespeare.

and eke her fingirs long and fmale

She wrong full oft, and bade God on her rue,

And with the death to doe bote on her bale: &c.

Chaucer's Troil, and Crefeide, Book IV. verfe 738.

And the black holme, that loves the wat'ry vale,

And the sweet cypress, fign of deadly bale.

And again,

Spenfer's Tranflation of Virgil's Gnat.

Said he, what have I wretch deferv'd, that thus

Into this bitter bale I am out caft.

Thus greatest blifs is prone to greatest bale.

Idem ibid.

First Chorus of Hercules Oetaus from Seneca; printed in 1581.

And leaft my foe, falfe Promos here,

Do interrupt my tale;

Grant, gracious King, that, uncontroul'd,

I may report my bale.

Promos and Caffandra, (a Play,) printed in 1578.

And

And call him noble, that was now your hate;
Him vile that was your garland. What's the matter,
That in the several places of the city

You cry against the noble Senate, who

(Under the gods) keep you in awe, which elfe
Would feed on one another? what's their feeking?
Men. For corn at their own rates, whereof, they fay,
The city is well stor❜d.

Mar. Hang 'em: they fay!

They'll fit by th' fire, and prefume to know
What's done i' th' capitol; who's like to rise;

Who thrives, and who declines: fide factions, and give out
Conjectural marriages; making parties ftrong,
And feebling fuch, as ftand not in their liking,
Below their cobbled fhoes. They fay, there's grain
enough!

Would the nobility lay afide their ruth,
And let me ufe my fword, I'd made a quarry
With thousands of thefe quarter'd flaves as high
As I could pitch my lance.

Men. Nay, thefe are almost thoroughly perfuaded :
For though abundantly they lack difcretion,

Yet are they paffing cowardly.

What fays the other troop?

But, I beseech you,

Mar. They are diffolv'd; hang 'em,

They fay they were an hungry, figh'd forth proverbs; That bunger broke ftone wails-that dogs must eat,That meat was made for mouths that the gods fent not Corn for the rich men only-With these shreds

They vented their complainings: which being anfwer'd, And a petition granted them, a ftrange one,

To break the heart of generofity,

And make bold power look pale; they threw their caps As they would hang then on the horns o' th' moon, Shouting their emulation.

Men. What is granted them?

Mar. Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wifdoms, Of their own choice. One's Junius Brutus, Sicinius Velutus, and I know not- -s'death, The rabble fhould have first unroof'd the city,

Ere

Ere fo prevail'd with me! it will in time

Win upon power, and throw forth greater themes
For infurrection's arguing.

Men. This is ftrange.

Mar. Go, get you home, you fragments!

Enter a Meflenger.

Mef. Where's Caius Marcius?

Mar. Here-what's the matter?

Mef. The news is, Sir, the Volfcians are in arms. Mar. I'm glad on't, then we fhall have means to vent Our mufty fuperfluity. See, our beft elders!

Enter Sicinius Velutus, Junius Bratus, Cominius,. Titus Lartius, with other Senators.

1 Sen. Marcius, 'tis true, that you have lately told us, The Volfcians are in arms.

Mar. They have a leader,

Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to❜t.
I fin in envying his nobility:

And were I any thing but what I am,

I'd with me only he.

Com. You have fought together?

Mar. Were half to half the world by th' ears, and he Upon my party, I'd revolt, to make

Only my wars with him. He is a lion,

That I am proud to hunt.

1 Sen. Then, worthy Marcius,

Attend upon Cominius to these wars.

Com. It is your former promife.

Mar. Sir, it is;

And I am conftant: Titus Lartius, thou

Shalt fee me once more ftrike at Tullus' fáce.

What, art thou ftiff? ftand'ft out?

Tit. No, Caius Marcius,

I'll lean upon one crutch, and fight with t'other,
Ere ftay behind this business.

Men. O true bred!

1 Sen. Your company to th' capitol; where, I know, Our greatest friends attend us.

Tit. Lead you on;

Follow, Cominius; we muft follow you;
Right worthy you priority.

Com. Noble Lartius!

1 Sen. Hence to your homes be gone.

Mar. Nay, let them follow;

[To the Citizens.

The Volfcians have much corn: take these rats thither,
To gnaw their garners. Worshipful mutineers,
Your valour puts well forth; pray, follow.-
[Citizens feal away.

[Exeunt.

Manent Sicinius and Brutus.

Sic. Was ever man fo proud, as is this Marcius?
Bru. He has no equal.

Sic. When we were chofen tribunes for the people-
Bru. Mark'd you his lip and eyes?

Sic. Nay, but his taunts.

Bru. Being mov'd, he will not fpare to gird the godsSic. Be-mock the modeft moon,

Bru. (4) The present wars devour him; he is grown Too proud to be so valiant.

Sic. Such a nature,

Tickled with good fuccefs, difdains the shadow
Which he treads on at noon; but I do wonder,
His infolence can brook to be commanded

Under Cominius.

Bru. Fame, at the which he aims,

In whom already he is well grac'd, cannot
Better be held, nor more attain'd, than by
A place below the firft; for what mifcarries
Shall be the General's fault, tho' he perform
To the utmost of a man; and giddy cenfure

(4) The prefent wars devour him; he is grown

Too proud to be fo valiant.] This is very obfcurely exprefs'd; but the poet's meaning muft certainly be this. Marcius is fo confcious of, and fo elate upon, the notion of his own valour, that he is eaten up with pride; devoured with the apprehenfions of that glory which he promifes himfelf from the enfuing war. A fentiment, like this, occurs again in Troilus and Creffida.

He, that is proud, eats up himself. Pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praife.

Will then cry out of Marcius: oh, if he
Had borne the business-

Sic. Befides, if things go well,

Opinion, that so sticks on Marcius, shall
Of his demerits rob Cominius.

Bru. Come,

Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius,

Though Marcius earn'd them not; and all his faults
To Marcius fhall be honours, though, indeed,

In ought he merit not.

Sic. Let's hence, and hear

How the dispatch is made; and in what fashion,
More than his fingularity, he goes

Upon this prefent action.

Bru. Let's along.

SCENE changes to Corioli.

[Exeunt

Enter Tullus Aufidius, with Senators of Corioli.

1 Sen. So, your opinion is, Aufidius,

That they of Rome are entred in our counfels,

And know how we proceed.

Auf. Is it not yours?

Whatever hath been thought on in this state,
That could be brought to bodily act, ere Rome
Had circumvention? 'tis not four days gone,

nce I heard thence-these are the words-I think, I have the letter here; yes-here it is; "They have preft a power, but it is not known [Reading. "Whether for Eaft or Weft; the dearth is great, "The people mutinous; and it is rumour'd, "Cominius, Marcius your old enemy, "(Who is of Rome worse hated than of you) "And Titus Laertius, a most valiant Roman, "These three lead on this preparation "Whither 'tis bent-moft likely, 'tis for you:

"Confider of it.

1 Sen. Our army's in the field :'

We never yet made doubt, but Rome was ready

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