Each word, thou'ft fpoke, hath weeded from my heart A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter

Should from yon cloud fpeak to me things divine,

And fay, 'tis true; I'd not believe them more

Than thee, all-noble Marcius.

Let me twine

Mine arms about that body, where-against
My grained afh an hundred times hath broke,
And fcar'd the moon with splinters: here I clip
The anvile of my fword, and do conteft
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 see thee here,
Thou noble thing, more dances my rapt heart,
Than when I firft my wedded miftrefs faw

Beftride 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 lofe my arm for't: thou haft beat me out
Twelve feveral times, and I have nightly fince
Dream't of encounters 'twixt thyfelf and me:
We have been down together in my fleep,
Unbuckling helms, fifting each other's throat,
And wak'd half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius,
Had we no quarrel elfe to Rome, but that
Thou art thence banifh'd, we would mufter all
From twelve to feventy; and pouring war
Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,

Like a bold flood o'er-bear. O come, go in,
And take our friendly fenators by th' hands.
Who now are here, taking their leaves of me,
Who am prepar'd against your territories,
Though not for Rome itself.

Cor. You blefs me, gods!

Auf. Therefore, moft abfolute Sir, if thou wilt have The leading of thine own revenges, take One half of my commiffion, and fet down

As beft thou art experienc'd, fince thou know'ft

Thy country's ftrength and weakness, thine own ways;

Whether

Whether to knock against the gates of Rome,
Or rudely vifit them in parts remote,

To fright them, ere deftroy. But come, come in ;
Let me commend thee first to thofe, that fhall
Say yea to thy defires. A thousand welcomes!
And more a friend, than e'er an enemy:

Yet, Marcius, that was much.-Your hand; most welcome!

Enter two Servamts.

1 Ser. Here's a ftrange alteration.

[Exeunt.

2 Ser. By my hand, I had thought to have ftrucken him with a cudgel, and yet my mind gave me, his clothes made a false report of him.

1 Ser. What an arm he has! he turn'd me about with his finger and his thumb, as one would fet up a top.

2 Ser. Nay, I knew by his face that there was fomething in him. He had, Sir, a kind of face, methought--I cannot tell how to term it.

1 Ser. He had fo: looking, as it were-would I were hanged, but I thought there was more in him than I could think.

2 Ser. So did I, I'll be fworn: he is fimply the rareft man i' th' world.

I Ser. I think, he is; but a greater foldier than he, you wot one.

2 Ser. Who, my mafter?

1 Ser. Nay, it's no matter for that.

2 Ser. Worth fix on him.

1 Ser. Nay, not fo neither; but I take him to be the greater foldier.

2 Ser. Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that; for the defence of a town, our General is excellent. 1 Ser. Ay, and for an affault too.

Enter a third Servant.

3 Ser. Oh, flaves, I can tell you news; news, you rafcals.

Both. What, what, what? let's partake.

3 Ser. I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as lieve be a condemn'd man.

Both. Wherefore? wherefore?

3 Ser. Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our General, Caius Marcius.

1 Ser. Why do you fay, thwack our General?

3 Ser. I do not fay, thwack our General; but he was always good enough for him.

2 Ser. Come, we are fellows and friends; he was ever too hard for him, I have heard him fay fo himself.

1 Ser. He was too hard for him directly, to say the troth on't before Corioli, he fcocht him and notcht him like a carbonado.

2 Ser. And, had he been cannibally given, he might have broil'd and eaten him too.

1 Ser. But, more of thy news;

3 Ser. Why, he is fo made on here within, as if he were fon and heir to Mars: fet at upper end o' th' table; no question afk'd him by any of the fenators, but they stand bald before him. Our General himself makes a mistress of him, sanctifies himself with's hands, and turns up the white o' th' eye to his difcourfe. But the bottom of the news is, our General is cut i' th' middle, and but one half of what he was yesterday. For the other has half, by the intreaty and grant of the whole table. He'll go, he fays, and fowle the porter of Rome gates by th' ears. He will mow down all before him, and leave his paffage poll'd.

2 Ser. And he's as like to do't as any man I can imagine.

3 Ser. Do't! he will do't: for look you, Sir, he has as many friends as enemies; which friends, Sir, as it were, durft not (look you, Sir) fhew themselves (as we term it) his friends, whilft he's in directitude.

1 Ser. Directitude! what's that?

3 Ser. But when they fhall fee, Sir, his creft up again, and the man in blood, they will out of their burroughs (like conies after rain (and revel all with him. 1 Ser. But when goes this forward ? VOL. VI.

U

3 Ser.

3 Ser. To-morrow, to-day, prefently, you fhall have the drum ftruck up this afternoon: 'tis, as it were, a parcel of their feaft, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips.

2 Ser. Why, then we fhall have a ftirring world again this peace is worth nothing, but to ruft iron, encrease taylors, and breed ballad-makers.

1 Ser. Let me have war, fay I; it exceeds peace, as far as day does night; it's fprightly, waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy, mull'd, deaf, fleepy, infenfible, a getter of more bastard children than war's a deftroyer of men.

2 Ser, 'Tis fo; and as war in fome fort may be faid to be a ravisher, fo it cannot be denied, but peace is a great maker of cuckolds.

1 Ser. Ay, and it makes men hate one another.

3 Ser. Reafon, because they then lefs need one another: the wars, for my money. I hope, to fee Romans as cheap as Volfcians.

They are rifing, they are rifing.

Both. In, in, in, in.

[Exeunt.

SCENE, a publick Place in Rome.

Sic. (33)

Enter Sicinius and Brutus.

His remedies are tame i' th' pre.ent peace,

E hear not of him,neither need we fear him;

And quietnefs o' th' people, which before

Were in wild hurry. Here we make his friends
Blufh, that the world goes well; who rather had,

(33) We bear not of him, neither need ave fear him,

His remedies are tame: the prefent peace

And quietness o' th' people, which before

Were in wild burry.] As this paffage has been hitherto pointed, it labours under two abfurdities; first, that the peace abroad, and the quietnefs of the populace at home, are call'd Marcius's remedies; whereas, in truth, these were the impediments of his revenge: In the next place, the latter branch of the fentence is imperfect and ungrammatical. My regulation prevents both thefe inconveniencies.

Though

Though they themselves did fuffer by't, beheld
Diffentious numbers peftring streets, than fee
Our tradesmen finging in their fhops, and going
About their functions friendly.

Enter Menenius.

Bru. We flood to't in good time. Is this Menenius? Sic. 'Tis he, 'tis he: O, he is grown moft kind of late. Hail, Sir!

Sic. Your Coriolanus is not much mifs'd, but with his friends; the commonwealth doth ftand, and fo would do, were he more angry at it.

Men. All's well, and might have been much better, if he could have temporiz❜d.

Sic. Where is he, hear you?

Men. Nay, I hear nothing:

His mother and his wife hear nothing from him.

Enter three or four Citizens.

All. The gods preferve you both!

Sic. Good-e'en, neighbours.

Bru. Good-e'en to you all, good-e'en to you all.

I Cit. Ourfelves, our wives, and children, on our knees, Are bound to pray for you both.

Sic. Live and thrive.

Bru. Farewel, kind neighbours :

We wish'd, Coriolanus had lov'd you, as we did.

All. Now the gods keep you!

Both Tri. Farewel, farewel.

[Exeunt Citizens.

Sic. This is a happier and more comely time, Than when thefe fellows ran about the streets, Crying confufion.

Bru. Caius Marcius was

A worthy officer i' th' war, but infolent,
O'ercome with pride, ambitious paft all thinking,
Self-loving.

Sic. And affecting one fole throne,

Without affiftance.