[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,' A fick man's appetite, who defires most that And hews down oaks with rufhes. Hang ye-truft ye! 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; You cry against the noble Senate, who (Under the gods) keep you in awe, which elfe Mar. Hang 'em: they fay! They'll fit by th' fire, and prefume to know Who thrives, and who declines: fide factions, and give out Would the nobility lay afide their ruth, Men. Nay, thefe are almost thoroughly perfuaded : 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 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. 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, 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; 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, [Exeunt. Manent Sicinius and Brutus. Sic. Was ever man fo proud, as is this Marcius? Sic. When we were chofen tribunes for the people- 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 Under Cominius. Bru. Fame, at the which he aims, In whom already he is well grac'd, cannot (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 Sic. Befides, if things go well, Opinion, that so sticks on Marcius, shall Bru. Come, Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius, Though Marcius earn'd them not; and all his faults In ought he merit not. Sic. Let's hence, and hear How the dispatch is made; and in what fashion, 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, 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 То |