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Against my canker'd country with the spleen
Of all the under fiends. But if so be
Thou dar’st not this, and that to prove more fortunes
Thou art tir'd ; then, in a word, I also am
Longer to live most weary, and present
My throat to thee :
Which not to cut, would show 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 shame, unless
It be to do thee service.

Auf. O, Marcius, Marcius,
Each word thou'st spoke hath weeded from my

A root of ancient

Let me twine
Mine arms about that body, where against
My grained ash a hundred times hath broke,
And scarr'd the moon with splinters ! Here I clip
The anvil of my sword ; and do contest
As hotly and as nobly with thy love,
As ever in ambitious strength I did
Contend against thy valour.

Cor. You bless me, gods !

Auf. Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt have The leading of thine own revenges, take The one half of my commission : and set down,-. As best thou art experienc'd, since thou know’st Thy country's strength and weakness,-thine own

ways ; Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, Or rudely visit them in parts remote, To fright them, ere destroy. But come, come in : Let me commend thee first to those, that shall Say“ yea,” to thy desires.—A thousand welcomes! And more a friend, than e'er an enemy; Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand ;-most welcome!



A Street in Rome.


Sic. We hear not of him, neither need we fear him : His remedies are tame. Bru. We stood to't in good time.--Is this Me

nenius? Sic. 'I'is he, 'tis he; Oh, he is grown most kind Of late. Hail, sir !


Men. Hail to you both!

Sic. Your Coriolanus, sir, is not much miss'd, But with his friends : the commonwealth doth stand; And so 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.

Bru. There is a slave, whom we have put in prison, Reports,—the Volscians with two several

Are enter'd in the Roman territories ;
And with the deepest malice of the war
Destroy what lies before them.

Men. 'Tis Aufidius :
Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishment,
Thrusts forth his horns again into the world ;
Which were inshell’d, when Marcius stood for Rome,
And durst not once peep out.

Enter an Officer.
Ofi. The nobles, in great earnestness, are going
All to the senate-house: some news is come,
That turns their countenances.

Sic. 'Tis this slave;-
Go, whip him 'fore the people's eyes: his raising,
Nothing but his report.

Offi. Yes, worthy sir,
The slave's report is seconded : and more,
More fearful, is deliver'd.

Sic. What more fearful?

Offi. It is spoke freely out of many mouths, (How probable, I do not know,) that Marcius, Join'd with Aufidius, leads a power ʼgainst Rome.

Sic. This is most likely !

Bru. Rais'd only, that the weaker sort may wish Good Marcius home again.

Sic. The very trick on't.

Men. This is unlikely :
He and Aufidius can no more atone,
Than violentest contrariety.
Let's to the senate-house.



A Plain near Rome.

Flourish of Drums and Trumpets.

Cor. No more ;-I merit not this lavish praise.
True, we have driven the Roman legions back,
Defeated and disgrac'd :—but what is done?
Nothing, ye Volscians.-
Come on, my brave companions of the war,
Come, let us finish at one mighty stroke

The toil of lab'ring fate,—we will, or perish.
While, noble Tullus, you protect the camp,
I with my troops, all chosen men of valour,
And well approv'd to-day, will storm the city.

[Trumpet sounds a Parley.

Enter an Officer.
Ofi. My lord, a herald is arriv'd from Rome,
To say, a deputation from the senate,
Attended by the ministers of Heaven,
A venerable train of priests and flamens,
Is on the way, address’d to you.

Cor. To me!
What can this message mean?-stand to your arms,
Ye Volscian troops : and let these Romans pass
Betwixt the low’ring frowns of double tiles.
What! do they think me such a milky boy,
To pay my vengeance with a few soft words?
Come, fellow-soldiers ; Tullus, come, and see
How I maintain the honours you have done me.

[Flourish of Drums and Trumpets.Excunt

CORIOLANUS, OFFICER, and SOLDIERS. Volu. Are we not, Tullus, failing in our duty, Not to attend our general ?

Auf. How! what said'st thou ?

Volu. Methought, my lord, his parting orders were, We should attend the triumph now preparing O'er all his foes at once,--Romans and Volscians.Come, we shall give offence.

Auf. His words are daggers to my heart: I feel
Their truth, but am asham’d to own my folly.
Volu. O) shame! O infamy! the thought consumes

To see a Roman
Borne on our shoulders to immortal fame,
Just in the happy moment that decided
The long dispute of ages,—that, for which
Our generous ancestors had toil'd and bled,

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