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And yet to charge thy fulphur with a bolt, (40)

That should but rive an oak. Why doft not speak ?
Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man
Still to remember wrongs? daughter, speak you :
He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy;
Perhaps, thy childishness will move him more
Than can our reasons. There's no man in the world
More bound to's mother, yet here he lets me prate
Like one i'th' stocks. Thou'st never in thy life
Shew'd thy dear mother any courtesy;
When she, (poor hen) fond of no second brood,
Has cluck'd chee to the wars, and safely home,
Loaden with honour. Say, my request's unjust,
And spurn me back : but if it be not so,
Thou art not honest, and the gods will plague thee,
That thou restrain'st from me the duty, which
To a mother's part belongs.--He turns-away:
Down, Ladies ; let us shame him with our knees,
To's fir-name Coriolanus 'longs more pride,
Than pity to our prayers.

Down; and end;
This is the last. So we will home to Rome,
And die among our neighbours : nay, behold us,
This boy, that cannot tell what he would have,
But kneels, and holds up hands for fellowship,
Does reason our petition with more strength
Than thou haft to deny't. Come, let us go:
This fellow had a Volscian to his mother: (41)
His wife is in Corioli, and this child
(40) And yet to change thy sulphur with a bolt,

That should but rive an oak.],
All the printed copies concur in this reading, but I have certainly
restor's the true word. Vid, the 14th note on this play.
(41) This fellow had a Volscian to bis morber;

His wife is in Corioli; and his child

Like bim by chance ;---} But tho' his wife was in Corioli, might not his child, nevertheless, be like him? the minute alteration I have made, I am persuaded, restures the true reading. Volumnia would hint, that Coriolanus by his stern behaviour had lost all familyregards, and did not remember that he had any child. I am not his mother, (says she) his wife is in Corioli, and this child, whom we bring with us, (young Marcius) is not his child, but only bears his resemblance by chance.

Like him by chance; yet give us our dispatch:
I'm husht, until our city be afire ;
And then I'll speak a little.
Cor. O mother, mother!.

(Holds her by the hands, filent.
What have you done? behold, the heav'ns do ope,
The gods look down, and this unnatural scene
They laugh at. Oh, my mother, mother! oh!
You've won a happy victory to Rome :
But for your son, believe it, oh, believe it,
Most dang'rously you have with him prevail'd,
If not moft mortal to him. Let it come:-
Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars,
l'lí frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius,
Were you in my fead, say, would you have heard
A mother less or granted less, Aufidius?

Auf: I too was mov'd.

Cor. I dare be sworn, you were ;
And, Sir, it is no little thing to make
Mine eyes to sweat compaflion. But, good Sir,
What peace you'll make, advise me : for my part,
I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you, and pray you
Scand to me in this cause. O mother! wife!

Auf. I'm glad, thou'st set thy mercy and thy honour
At difference in thee; out of that I'll work
Myself a former fortune.

[-Afde. Cor. Ay, by and by; but we will drink together ; And you Thall bear

[To Vol, Virg. Ger A better witness back than words, which we, On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd, Come, enter with us : Ladies,


To have a temple built you : all the swords
In Italy, and her confederate arms,
Could not have made this peace.



SCENE, the Forum, in Rome.

Enter Menenius and Sicinius.
Men. EE you yond coin o'th' capitol, yond corner-
Sic. Why, what of that?

[ftone ? Men. If it be poffible for you to displace it with your little finger, there is some hope the Ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. Bout, I say, there is no hope in't; our throats are sentenc'd, and itay upon execution.

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

Men. There is difference 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 lov'd his mother dearly.

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

Sic. Yes, mercy, if yoa 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 is milk in male tyger; that shall our poor city find ; and ail this is long of

you. Sic. The gods be good unto us! Men. No, in such a case the gods will not be gooit

When we banjih'd him, we respected noc them: and he returning to break our necks, they respect not us:

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Enter a Messenger. Mef. 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?

Mej. Good news, good news, the Ladies have prevaild,
The Volscians are dislodg'd, and Marcius gone :
A merrier day did never yet greet Reme,
No, not th’ expulsion of the Tarquinsa

Sic. Friend,
Art certain, this is true? is it most certain ?

Mes. 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 th' gates. Why, hark you;

[Trumpets, Hautboys, Drums beat, all together. The trumpets, fackbuts, plalteries and fifes, Tabors and cymbals, and the shouting Romans Make the sun dance.,' Hark you!

(4 bout within. Men. This is good news : I will go meet the Ladies. This Volumnia Is worih, of consuls, fenators, patricians, A city full: of tribunes, such as you, A fea and land full. You've pray'd well to-day : This morning, for ten thousand of

your throats Pd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy !

[Sound fill, with the flous. Six First, the gods bless you for your tidings: next, Accept my thankfulness.

Mes. Sir, we have all great cause to give great thanks,
Sic. They're near the city?
MelAlmost at point to enter.
Sia. We'll meet them, and help the joy. [Exeunt.

483 Enter two Senators, with Ladies, passing over the stage;

with other Lords. Sen. Behold our patroness, the life of Rome : Call all your tribes together, praise the gods, And make triumphant fires: strew Rowers before them: : Unfhout the noise, that banish'd Marcius; Repeal him with the welcome of his mother: Cry,--welcome, Ladies, welcome!

[Exeunt. All, Welcome, Ladies, welcome!

[ A fourish with drums and trumpets. SCENE changes to a 'publick Place in Antium,

Enter Tullus Aufidius, with Attendants.
Auf. G Deliver them this paper having read it,

O tell the Lords o'th' city, I am here :
Bid them repair to th' market-place, where I,
Even in theirs and in the commons' ears,
Will vouch the truth of it, He, I accuse,
The city ports by this hath enter'd; and
Intends t appear before the people, hoping
To purge himselfwith words. Dispatch.-Moit welcome!

Enter three or four Conspirators of Aufidias's faction.
1 Con. How is it with our General ?

Auf. Even fo,
As with a man by his own alms impoison'd,
And with his charity flain..

2. Con. Moit noble Sir, If

you do hold the fame intent, wherein You wilh'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, whilft *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 admiss: -

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