Soft as the parasite's silk, let him be made
An overture for the wars! No more, I say.
For that I have not washed my nose that bled,
Or foiled some debile wretch, which, without
note,

Here's many else have done, you shout me forth
In acclamations hyperbolical;

As if I loved my little should be dieted

In praises sauced with lies.

Com.

Too modest are you,

More cruel to your good report, than grateful
To us that give you truly. By your patience,
If 'gainst yourself you be incensed, we'll put

you

Like one that means his proper harm-in manacles, Then reason safely with you.-Therefore, be it

known,

As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius Wears this war's garland: in token of the which My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him, With all his trim belonging; and, from this time,

For what he did before Corioli, call him,

With all the applause and clamour of the host,
CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS.-Bear

The addition nobly ever!

All. Caius Marcius Coriolanus !

[Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums.

Cor. I will go wash 1;

And when my face is fair, you shall perceive
Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thank you.—

I mean to stride your steed; and, at all times,
To undercrest your good addition

To the fairness of my power.

Com.

So, to our tent;

Where, ere we do repose us, we will write

To Rome of our success.-You, Titus Lartius,
Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome

The best with whom we may articulate,
For their own good, and ours.

Lart.

I shall, my lord.

Cor. The gods begin to mock me. I, that now Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg Of my lord general.

Com.

Take it 't is yours-What is t?

Cor. I sometime lay, here in Corioli,

At a poor man's house; he used me kindly:-
He cried to me; I saw him prisoner ;
But then Aufidius was within my view,
And wrath o'erwhelmed my pity.

:

I request you

Were he the butcher of my son, he should
Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus.
Lart. Marcius, his name?

Cor.

By Jupiter, forgot!

I am weary; yea, my memory is tired.

Have we no wine here?

Com.

Go we to our tent.

The blood upon your visage dries; 't is time
It should be looked to: come.

[Exeunt.

SCENE X.-The Camp of the Volsces.

A Flourish.

Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS,

bloody, with two or three Soldiers.

Auf. The town is ta'en!

1 Sold. 'T will be deliver'd back on good condition.

Auf. Condition!

I would I were a Roman; for I cannot,
Being a Volsce, be that I am.--Condition!

What good condition can a treaty find

I' the part that is at mercy ?-Five times, Marcius, I've fought with thee: so often hast thou beat

me;

And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter As often as we eat.-By the elements,

If e'er again I meet him beard to beard,

He is mine, or I am his. Mine emulation
Hath not that honour in 't, it had; for where

I thought to crush him in an equal force,

True sword to sword, I'll potch at him some way, Or wrath or craft may get him.

1 Sold.

He's the devil.

Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour,

poisoned

With only suffering stain by him, for him
Shall fly out of itself. Nor sleep nor sanctuary,
Being naked, sick; nor fane nor Capitol,
The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice,
Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up
Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst
My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it
At home, upon my brother's guard, even there,
Against the hospitable canon, would I

Wash my fierce hand in 's heart.

city;

Go you to the

Learn how 't is held; and what they are that

must

Auf. I am attended at the cypress grove: I

pray you,

"T is south the city mills,-bring me word thither How the world goes, that to the pace of it

I may spur on my journey.

1 Sold.

I shall, sir. [Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-Rome. A Public Place.

Enter MENENIUS, SICINIUS, and BRUTUS.

Men. The augurer tells me we shall have news to-night.

Bru. Good, or bad?

Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius.

Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends
Men. Pray you, who does the wolf love?
Sic. The lamb.

Men. Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius.

Bru. He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear. Men. He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two are old men tell me one thing that I shall ask you.