mother, may prevail with him. But I say, there is no hope in't; our throats are sentenced, and stay upon execution.

Sic. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter the condition of a a man?

Men. There is differency between a grub, and a butterfly; yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown from man to dragon: he has wings; he's more than a creeping thing. Sic. He loved his mother dearly.

Men. So did he me: and he no more remembers his mother now, than an eight year old horse. The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes. When he walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground shrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corslet with his eye; talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He sits in his state, as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done, is finished with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but eternity, and a heaven to throne in.

Sic. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly.

Men. I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his mother shall bring from him: There is no more mercy in him, than there milk in a male tiger; that shall our poor city find: and all this is 'long of you.

Sic. The gods be good unto us!

Men. No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us. When we banished him, we respected not them: and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us.

Enter a MESSENGER.

Mess. Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to your house;
The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune,
And hale him up and down; all swearing, if
The Roman ladies bring not comfort home,
They'll give him death by inches.

Enter another MESSENGER.

Sic. What's the news?

Mess. Good news, good news;-The ladies have prevail'd, The Volces are dislodged, and Marcius gone:

A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,

No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins.

Sic. Friend,

Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain ?
Mess. As certain as I know the sun is fire:

Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it?

Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide,

As the recomforted through the gates. Why, hark you;

[Trumpets and Hautboys sounded, and Drums beaten,
all together. Shouting also within.

The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes,
Tabors, and cymbals, and the shouting Romans,
Make the sun dance. Hark you!

Men. This is good news:

I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia

Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians,

A city full of tribunes, such as you,

:

[Shouting again.

A sea and land full: You have pray'd well to-day;

* Stay but for.

+ Chair of state.

To resemble.

This morning, for ten thousand of your throats
I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy!

[Shouting and Music.

Sic. First, the gods bless you for their tidings: next,

Accept my thankfulness.

Mess. Sir, we have all

Great cause to give great thanks.

Sic. They are near the city?

Mess. Almost at point to enter.

Sic. We will meet them, and help the joy.

[Going.

Enter the Ladies, accompanied by SENATORS, PATRICIANS, and

People. They pass over the Stage.

1 Sen. Behold our patroness, the life of Rome:

Call all your tribes together, praise the gods,

And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before them:

Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius,

Repeal him with the welcome of his mother;

Cry, Welcome, ladies, welcome!

All. Welcome, ladies!

Welcome! [A flourish with Drums and Trumpets. Exeunt. SCENE V-Antium. A Public Place.

Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, with Attendants.

Auf. Go tell the lords of the city, I am here:
Deliver them this paper: having read it,
Bid them repair to the market-place; where I,
Even in theirs and in the commons' ears,
Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse,
The city portst by this hath enter'd, and
Intends to appear before the people, hoping
To purge himself with words: Despatch.

[Exeunt Attendants.

Enter Three or Four CONSPIRATORS of AUFIDIUS'S Faction. Most welcome!

1 Con. How is it with our general ?
Auf. Even so,

As with a man by his own alms empoison'd,
And with his charity slain.

2 Con. Most noble Sir,

If you do hold the same intent wherein

You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you

Of your great danger.

Auf. Sir, I cannot tell;

We must proceed, as we do find the people.

3 Con. The people will remain uncertain, whilst "Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either Makes the survivor heir of all.

Auf. I know it;

And my pretext to strike at him admits

A good construction. I raised him, and I pawn'd

Mine honour for his truth: Who being so heighten'd,
He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery,
Seducing so my friends: and, to this end,

He bow'd his nature, never known before
But to be rough, unswayable, and free.

3 Con. Sir, his stoutness,

When he did stand for consul, which he lost
By lack of stooping,-

Auf. That I would have spoke of:

Being banish'd for't he came unto my hearth;
Presented to my knife his throat: I took him;
Made him joint-servant with me: gave him way
In all his own desires; nay, let him choose
Out of my files, his projects to accomplish,
My best and freshest men; served his designments
In mine own person; holp* to reap the fame,
Which he did end all his; and took some pride
To do myself this wrong: till, at the last,
I seem'd his follower, not partner; and
He waged me with his countenance,t as if
I had been mercenary.

1 Con. So he did, my lord:

The army marvell'd at it. And, in the last,
When he had carried Rome; and that we look'd
For no less spoil, than glory,

Auf. There was it;

For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him.

At a few drops of women's rheum, which are
As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour
Of our great action; Therefore shall he die,

And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark!

[Drums and Trumpets sound, with great shouts of the People. 1 Con. Your native town you enter'd like a post,

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 pronounced shall bury
His reasons with his body.

Auf. Say no more;

Here come the lords,

Enter the LORDS of the City.

Lords. You are most welcome home.

Auf. I have not deserved it.

But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused

What I have written to you?

Lords. We have.

1 Lord. 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.

* Helped.

+ Tears.

+ Thought me rewarded with good looks.
§ Rewarding us with our own expenses.

Auf. He approaches, you shall hear him.

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

Cor. Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier;
No more infected with my country's love,
Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting
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. We have made peace,
With no less honour to the Antiates,

Than shame to the Romans: And we here deliver,
Subscribed 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 abused your powers.

Cor. Traitor!-How now?
Auf. Ay, traitor, Marcius.
Cor. Marcius!

Auf. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius; Dost thou think
I'll grace thee with that robbery, thý 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 whined 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.t

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 forced 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 dove-cote, I

Flutter'd your Volces in Corioli:
Alone I did it.-Boy!

* Drops of tears.

+ No more than a boy of tears.

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.

Citizens. 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.

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.

Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak.

1 Lord. O Tullus,

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,
Provoked 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. Bear from hence his body,

And mourn you for him: let him be regarded
As the most noble corse, that ever herald
Did follow to his urn.

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:
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.
Assist.

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

* Overspreads the world.

† Judicial.

+ Memorial.

END OF VOL. III.

PRINTED BY COX (BROTHERS) AND WYMAN, GREAT QUEEN STREET.