And had no welcomes home; but he returns,
Splitting the air with noise.

2 Con.

And patient fools,

Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear, With giving him glory.

3 Con.

Therefore, at your vantage,

Ere he express himself, or move the people
With what he would say, let him feel
your sword,
Which we will second. When he lies along,
After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury
His reasons with his body.

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

Lords.

1 Lord.

We have.

And grieve to hear it.

What faults he made before the last, I think,
Might have found easy 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 excuse.
Auf. He approaches, you shall hear him.

Enter CORIOLANUS, with Drums and Colours; a
Crowd of Citizens with him.

Cor. Hail, lords! I am returned your soldier; No more infected with my country's love, Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting

5

Rewarding us with our own expenses, making the cost of the war its recompense.'

Under your great command. You are to know,
That prosperously I have attempted, and
With bloody passage, led your wars, even to
The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home,
Do more than counterpoise, a full third part,
The charges of the action.

With no less honour to the

We have made peace
Antiates,

Than shame to the Romans: And we here deliver, Subscrib'd by the consuls and patricians,

Together with the seal o'the senate, what

We have compounded on.

Auf.

Read it not, noble lords;

But tell the traitor, in the highest degree
He hath abus'd your powers.

Cor. Traitor!-How now?

Auf.
Cor.

Ay, traitor, Marcius.

Marcius!

Auf. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius; Dost thou think I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name Coriolanus in Corioli?

You lords and heads of the state, perfidiously
He has betray'd your business, and given up,
For certain drops of salt, your city Rome
(I say, your city), to his wife and mother:
Breaking his oath and resolution, like
A twist of rotten silk; never admitting
Counsel o'the war; but at his nurse's tears
He whin'd and roar'd away your victory:
That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart
Look'd wondering each at other.

Cor.

Hear'st thou, Mars?

Auf. Name not the god, thou boy of tears,

Cor.

Ha!

Auf. No more 6.

6 This must be considered as continuing the former speech o' Aufidius; he means to tell Coriolanus that he was no more than a boy of tears.'

of

Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave!— Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever

I was forc'd to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords,

Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion (Who wears my stripes impress'd on him; that must

bear

My beating to his grave) shall join to thrust
The lie unto him.

1 Lord.

Peace, both, and hear me speak. Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volces; men and lads, Stain all your edges on me.-Boy! False hound! If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there, That like an eagle in a dovecote, I

Flutter'd your Volces in Corioli:

Alone I did it.-Boy!

Auf.

Why, noble lords,

Will you be put

in mind of his blind fortune,

Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, 'Fore your own eyes and ears?

Con. Let him die for't.

[Several speak at once. Cit. [Speaking promiscuously.] Tear him to pieces, do it presently. He killed my son;—my daughter; -He killed my cousin Marcus;-He killed my father.

2 Lord. Peace, ho;- —no outrage;-peace. The man is noble, and his fame folds in

This orb o'the earth". His last offence to us Shall have judicious hearing.-Stand, Aufidius, And trouble not the peace.

7 His fame overspreads the world.'

8

'Perhaps judicious, in the present instance, means judicial; such a hearing as is allowed to criminals in courts of justice.'

STEEVENS. Steevens is right, it appears from Bullokar's Expositor that the words were convertible; the same meaning is assigned to both, viz. belonging to judgment.'

Cor.

O, that I had him,

With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe,

To use my lawful sword!

Auf.

Insolent villain!

Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.

[AUFIDIUS and the Conspirators draw, and kill CORIOLANUS, who falls, and AUFIDIUS stands on him.

Lords.

Hold, hold, hold, hold.

O Tullus.

Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak.

2 Lord. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour

will weep.

3 Lord. Tread not upon him.-Masters all, be quiet;

Put up your swords.

Auf. My lords, when you shall know (as in this

rage,

Provok'd by him, you cannot) the great danger
Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice
That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours
To call me to your senate, I'll deliver

Myself your loyal servant, or endure
Your heaviest censure.

1 Lord.

And mourn you

Bear from hence his body,

for him: let him be regarded

As the most noble corse, that ever herald

Did follow to his urn 9.

2 Lord.

His own impatience

Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.
Let's make the best of it.

Auf.
My rage is gone,
And I am struck with sorrow.-Take him up:

9 This allusion is to a custom which was most probably unknown to the ancients, but which was observed in the public funerals of English princes, at the conclusion of which a herald proclaims the style of the deceased.

Help, three o'the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.—
Beat thou the drum that it speak mournfully:
Trail your steel pikes.-Though in this city he
Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail the injury,
Yet he shall have a noble memory 10.
Assist.

[Exeunt, bearing the body of CORIOLANUS.
A dead March sounded.

10 Memorial. See Act iv. Sc. 5, note 3.

The tragedy of CORIOLANUS is one of the most amusing of our author's performances. The old man's merriment in Menenius; the lofty lady's dignity in Volumnia; the bridal modesty in Virgilia; the patrician and military haughtiness in Coriolanus; the plebeian malignity and tribunitian insolence in Brutus and Sicinius, make a very pleasing and interesting variety; and the various revolutions of the hero's fortune fill the mind with anxious curiosity. There is, perhaps, too much bustle in the first Act, and too little in the last. JOHNSON.