« ZurückWeiter »
perfecter gyber for the table, than a neceffary bencher in the capitol.
Mer. Our very priests muit become mockers, if they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are ; when you speak beft unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging of your beards ; and your beards deserve not fo licnourable a grave, as to ftuff a botcher's cuftion, or to be incomb'd in an afs's pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap eftimation, (12) is worth all your predeceffors fince Deusalion ; though, peradventure, fome of the beft of them were hereditary hangmen. Good e'en to your worships ; more of your conversation would infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians. I will be bold to take my leave of you. (Brutus and Sicinius ftand afide. As Menenius is going out, Enter Volumnia. Virgilia,
and Valeria. How now my (as fair as noble) Ladies, and the moon, were the earthly, no nobler ; whither do you follow your eyes fo falt?
Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for the love of Juno, let's go.
Men. Ha! Marcius coming home ?
Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius, and with most prosperous • approbation.
Men. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee-hoo, Marcius coming home!
Both. Nay, 'tis true.
$12)-ubo, in a cheap eftimation, is worth all your predeceffors force Deucalion, ibo' peradventure, some of the best of ben: were hereditary bangmen.] I won't pretend to affirm, this is an imitation of the close of Juvenal's 8th satire; though it bas very much the famc calit, only exceeds it, I think, in humour, and poignancy of satire.
Et tamen ut longè repetas, longéque revolvas
another, his wife another, and, I think, there's one at home for
you. Men. I will make my very house reel to-night: A letter for me!
Vir. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you, I saw't.
Men. A letter for me! it gives me an estate of seven years health ; in which time I will make a lip at the physician; the most fovereign prescription in Galen is but empiric, and to this preservative of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he not wounded ? he was wont to come home wounded.
Vir. Oh no, no, no.
Men. So do I too, if he be not too much; bringe a'victory in his pocket ? the wounds become him
Val. On's brows, Menenius; he comes the third time home with the oaken garland.
Men. Hath he disciplind Aufidius foundly?
Vol. Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but Aufidius got off.
Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that: if he had staid by him, I would not have been fo fidius'd for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold that's in them. Is the Senate poffeft of this?
Vol. Good Ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes: the Senate has letters from the General, wherrin he gives my son the whole name of the war: he.ath in this action out-done his former deeds doubly,
Pal. In troth, there's wondrous things fpoke of him.
Men. Wondrous ! ay, I warrant you, and not with out his true purchasing.
Vir. The gods grant them true! Vol. True? pow, waw. .Men. True: I'll be sworn, they are true. Where is he wounded ?-God save your good worships ; Marcius is
coming home; he has more cause to be proud :where is he wounded ?
[To the Tribunes. Vol. I'th' fhoulder, and i' th' left arm; there will be large cicatrices to thew the people when he fhall stand
for his place. He receiv'd in the repulse of Tarquin seven hurts i'th' body. (13)
Men. One i'th' neck, and one too i'th'thigh; there's nine, that I know.
Vol. He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five wounds upon hiin.
Mex. Now 'tis twenty leven'; every galh was an ene. my's grave. liark, the trumpets.
[A pout and
flourish. Vol. These are the ushers of Marcius ; before him he carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears : Death, chat dark spirit, in's nervy arm doch lie: Which being advanc’d, declines, and then men die. Trumpets found. Enter Cominius the General, and Titus
Lartius ; between them Coriolanus, crown'd with an cuken garland, with Captains and Soldiers, and a Herald.
Her. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight Within Corioli gates, where he hath won, With fame, a name to Caius Marcius. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus !
[Sound. Flourish. All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus !
Cor. No more of this, it does offend my heart; Pray now, no more,
Com. Look, Sir, your mother,
(13) He receiv’d, in tbe repulse of Tarquin, seven burts i tb' body.
Men. One i tb reck, and two i thotbigts: there's nine that I. knou.] Seven,--one,--and two, and these make but nine ? surely, we inay with safety affift Menenius, in his arithmetick. This is a stupid blunder ; but wherever we can account by a probable reason for the cause of it, that directs the emendation. Here it was easy for a negligent transcriber to omit the second ore as a needless repetition of the first, and to make a numeral word of too.
What is it, Coriolanus, muft I call thee?
Cor. My gracious filence, hail ;
Men. Now the gods crown thee!
To Valeria. Vol. I know not where to turn. O welcome home ; And welcome, General! y’are welcome all.
Men. A hundred thousand welcomes : I could weep,
Com. Ever right.
Cor. Your hand, and yours.
(14) From whom I bave receiv'd not only greetings,
But, with them, change of bonours.] Cbange of honours is a very poor expression, and communicates but a very poor idea. I have rentur’d to substitute, cbarge; 1. c. a fresh charge or commiffion. These words are frequently mistaken for each other. So, afterwards, in this play;
To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o'th' air,
That should but rive an oak.
But, with them, charge of honours.
Vol. I have lived,
[Exeunt in State, as before. Brutus, and Sicinius, come forward. Bri. All tongues speak of him, and the bleared fights Are spectacled to see him. Your pratling nurse Into a rapture lets her baby cry, While the chats him : the kitchen malkin pins Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck, Clambring the walls to eye him; ftalls, bulks, windows, Are smother’d up, leads fill'd, and ridges hors'd With variable complexions; all agreeing In earneftness to see him : feld-Thown Flamins Do press among the popular throngs, and puff To win a vulgar station; our veil'd dames Commit the war of white and damask, in Their nicely-gauded cheeks, to th' wanton spotl Of Phæbus' burning kisses ; such a pother, As if that whatsoever god, who leads him, Were Nily crept into his human powers, And gave him graceful posture.
Sic. On the sudden, I warrant him consul,
Oh, that I knew this husband, which; you say, most changé his horns with garlands! Here likewise we must read, charge, i. e. put garlands upon his horns. In the Maid's Tragedy, (by Beaumont and Fletcher) dbarge is vice versa printed in all the editions instead of change.
For we were wont to cbarge our fouls in talk. This, 'tis evident, is nonsense ; but friends, by the communication of their thoughts to each other, are finely said to exchange jculs isi talk,