Imatges de pàgina
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Vol. He cannot chufe. I am moft fortunate, thus accidentally to encounter you. You have ended my business, and I will merrily accompany you home.

Rom. I fhall between this and fupper tell you moft ftrange things from Rome; all tending to the Good of their Adverfaries. Have you an Army ready, fay you? Vol. A moft royal one. The Centurions and their Charges diftinctly billetted, already in the entertainment, and to be on foot at an hour's warning.

Rom. I am joyful to hear of their readiness, and am the Man, I think, that shall set them in prefent action. So, Sir, heartily well met, and moft glad of your com

pany.

Vol. You take my part from me, Sir, I have the moft cause to be glad of

yours.

Rom. Well, let us go together.

[Exeunt.

Enter Coriolanus in mean Apparel, difguis'd and

muffled.

Cor. A goodly City is this Antium.

City,

'Tis I, that made thy widows: Many an heir

Of these fair edifices for my wars

Have I heard groan, and drop: then know Me not, Left that thy wives with fpits, and boys with ftones, In puny battel flay me. Save you, Sir.

Cit. And you.

Enter a Citizen,

Cor. Direct me, if it be your will, where great Aufidius lies:

Is he in Antium?

Cit. He is, and feafts the Nobles of the State, at his house this night.

Cor. Which is his house, I beseech you?

Cit. This, here, before you.

Cor. Thank you, Sir: Farewel.

[Exit Citizen.

Oh, world, thy flippery Turns! friends now faft fworn,
Whofe double bofoms feem to wear one heart,
Whofe hours, whofe bed, whofe meal and exercise
Arç ftill together, who twine (as 'twere) in love

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Unfe

Unfeparable, hall within this hour,
On a diffenfion of a doit, break out
To bitterest enmity. So felleft foes,

Whofe pallions and whofe plots have broke their fleep
To take the one the other, by some chance,
Some trick not worth an egg, fhall grow
dear friends,
And inter-join their iffues. So, with me;-
My birth-place have I and my lovers left;
This enemy's Town I'll enter; if he flay me,
He does fair juftice; if he give me way,
I'll do his Country service.

[Exit.

SCENE changes to a Hall in Aufidius's House,

Ser.

Mufick plays. Enter a Serving-man.

WI think, our fellows are afleep. [Exit.

INE, wine, wine! what fervice is here?

Enter another Serving-man.

2 Ser. Where's Cotus? my Mafter calls for him : Cotus.

Enter Coriolanus.

Cor. A goodly houfe; the feaft fmells well; but I Appear not like a guest.

Enter the firft Serving-man.

1 Ser. What would you have, friend? whence are you? here's no place for you: pray, go to the door.

[Exit.

Cor. I have deferv'd no better entertainment, in be

ing Coriolanus.

Enter fecond Servant.

[Afide.

2 Ser. Whence are you, Sir? has the porter his eyes in his head, that he gives entrance to fuch companions? pray, get you out.

Cor. Away!
2 Ser. Away?

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Cor. Now thou'rt troublesom.

2 Ser. Are you fo brave? I'll have you talk'd with

anon.

Enter a third Servant. The firft meets him.

3 Ser. What Fellow's this?

í Ser. A ftrange one as ever I look'd on: I cannot get him out o'th' houfe: pr'ythee, call my Master to him.

3 Ser. What have you to do here, Fellow? pray you,

avoid the house.

Cor. Let me but ftand, I will not hurt your hearth. 3 Ser. What are you?

Cor. A Gentleman.

3 Ser. A marvellous poor one. Cor. True; fo I am.

3 Ser. Pray you, poor Gentleman, take up fome other ftation, here's no place for you; pray you, avoid:

come.

Cor. Follow your function, go and batten on cold bits. [Pushes him away from him. 3 Ser. What, will you not? pr'ythee, tell my Mafter, what a ftrange Gueft he has here.

2 Ser. And I fhall.

[Exit Second Serving-man.

3 Ser. Where dwell'ft thou? Cor. Under the Canopy.

3 Ser. Under the Canopy? Cor. Ay.

3 Ser. Where's that?

Cor. I'th' City of Kites and Crows.

3 Ser. I'th' City of Kites and Crows? what an Afs it is! then thou dwell'ft with Daws too?

Cor. No, I ferve not thy Master.

3 Ser. How, Sir! do you meddle with my Mafter? Cor. Ay, 'tis an honefter fervice, than to meddle with thy Mistress: thou prat'ft, and prat'ft; ferve with thy trencher: hence. [Beats him away.

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Enter Aufidius, with a Serving-man.

Auf. Where is this Fellow?

2 Ser. Here, Sir; I'd have beaten him like a dog, but for disturbing the Lords within.

Auf. Whence com'ft thou? what would't thou? thy name?

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Why speak'ft not? fpeak, Man: what's thy name? Cor. If, Tullus, yet thou know'ft me not, and feeing me,

Doft not yet take me for the Man I am,
Neceffity commands me name my self.
Auf. What is thy name?

Cor. A name unmufical to Volfcian ears,
And harsh in found to thine.

Auf. Say, what's thy name?

Thou haft a grim appearance, and thy face
Bears a command in't; though thy tackle's torn,
Thou fhew'ft a noble veffel: what's thy name?

Cor. Prepare thy brow to frown; know'st thou me yet?

Auf. I know thee not; thy name?

Cor. My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done
To thee particularly, and to all the Volfcians,
Great hurt and mischief; thereto witnefs may
My Sirname, Coriolanus. The painful fervice,
The extream dangers, and the drops of blood
Shed for my thanklets Country, are requited
But with that Sirname: A good memory,
And witness of the malice and displeasure
Which thou fhould'ft bear me, only that name re-
mains.

The cruelty and envy of the People,
Permitted by our daftard Nobles, who

Have all forfook me, hath devour'd the reft;
And fuffer'd me by th' voice of flaves to be
Hoop'd out of Rome. Now, this extremity
Hath brought me to thy hearth, not out of hope
(Mistake me not) to fave my life; for if

I had fear'd Death, of all the men i'th' world

I'd have avoided thee. But in meer fpite
To be full quit of those my Banishers,
Stand I before thee here: then if thou haft
A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge..
Thine own particular wrongs, and stop thofe maims
Of fhame feen through thy Country, fpeed thee ftraight,
And make my mifery ferve thy Turn: fo use it,
That my revengeful fervices may prove

As benefits to thee. For I will fight
Against my canker'd Country, with the spleen
Of all the under fiends. But if so be

Thou dar'ft not this, and that to prove more fortunes
Thou'rt tir'd, then, in a word, I also am
Longer to live moft weary, and present

My throat to thee, and to thy ancient malice:
Which not to cut, would fhew thee but a fool,
Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate,

Drawn tuns of blood out of thy Country's breast,
And cannot live, but to thy fhame, unless
It be to do thee fervice.

Auf. Oh, Marcius, Marcius,

Each word, thou'ft fpoke, hath weeded from my
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 icar'd the moon with splinters: here I clip
The anvile of my fword, and do contest
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 fee thee here,
Thou noble thing, more dances my rapt heart,
Than when I firft my wedded Mistress faw

heart

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

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