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 abus'd 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, thy stol'n name
Coriolanus in Corioli?-
You lords and heads o'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.
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 upon 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, Volsces; 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 Volscians 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?

Conspirators.

Let him die for't.

Citizens. 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 offences 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!

Conspirators. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him!

Lords.

[AUF. and the Conspirators draw, and kill COR., who falls: AUF. stands on him. 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, 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.

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.

JULIUS CÆSAR.

LUCILIUS, TITINIUS, Messala, YOUNG CATO, and VOLUMNIUS,-Friends to BRUTUS and CASSIUS.

VARRO, CLITUS, CLAUDIUS, STRATO, LUCIUS, DARDANIUS, -Servants to BRUTUS.

PINDARUS, Servant to CASSIUS.

CALPHURNIA, Wife to CESAR.

PORTIA, Wife to BRUTUS.

Senators, Citizens, Guards, Attendants, &c.

SCENE,-During a great part of the Play at ROME; afterwards at SARDIS, and near PHILIPPI.