Ay, traitor, Marcius.

Marcius! Auf. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius; Dost thou

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.

Hear’st thou, Mars?
Auf. Name not the god, thou boy of tears,–

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 impressid on him; that must

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

i 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,

& For certain drops of salt,] For certain tears.

9 Auf. No more.] By these words Aufidius does not mean to put a stop to the altercation ; but to tell Coriolanus that he was no more than a “boy of tears."

That like an eagle in a dove-cote, I
Flutter'd your voices in Corioli:
Alone I did it.—Boy!

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.

O, that I had him,
With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe,
To use my lawful sword!

Insolent villain!
Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.
[Aufidius and the Conspirators draw, and kill


stands on him. Lords.

Hold, hold, hold, hold. Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak. i 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.

T his fame folds in

This orb o'the earth.] His fame overspreads the world.

- judicious hearing.] Perhaps judicious, in the present instance, signifies judicial; such a hearing as is allowed to criminals in courts of judicature. Thus imperious is used by our author for imperial.

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. 3
2 Lord.

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

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 spikes.-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 CORIOLA-

NUS. A dead March soundedes

that ever herald Did follow to kis urn.) This allusion is to a custom unknown, I believe, to the ancients, but observed in the publick funerals of English princes, at the conclusion of which a herald proclaims the style of the deceased. STEEVENS.

- a noble memory.] Memory for memorial.

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.

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C Warren her


Why comst thou?

Ghoti. To tell thee, thou shalt see me at Phillippi

Publish'd by F&C Rirmgton London Vær 0-1004.

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