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That would depopulate the city,
You worthy tribunes,
Than the severity of the public power,
He shall well know
He shall, sure on 't.
[Several speak together. Men.
Peace! Men. Do not cry havoc, where you should but hunt With modest warrant.
Sic. Sir, how comes ’t, that you have holp
Hear me, speak :-
Consul !—what consul ?
Speak briefly then ;
Men. Now the good gods forbid,
Sic. He is a disease that must be cut away.
Men. O, he 's a limb, that has but a disease; Mortal, to cut it off; to cure it, easy. What has he done to Rome that 's worthy death? Killing our enemies? The blood he hath lost, (Which I dare vouch is more than that he hath, By many an ounce,) he dropp'il it for his country : And what is left, to lose it by his country, Were to us all, that do it, and suffer it, A brand to the end o' the world. Sic.
This is clean kam.a Bru. Merely awry: Wlren he did love his country, It honour'd him.
Men. The service of the foot,
We 'll hear no more :-
Men. One word more, one word. This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find The harm of unscann'd swiftness, will, too late, Tie leaden pounds to his heels. Proceed by process; Lest parties (as he is belov'd) break out, And sack great Rome with Romans. Bru.
If it were so,Sic. What do ye talk ?
a We take this to mean, nothing to the purpose.
The speech of Menenius is interrupted. He would ask whether it were just not to respect the "service" of the "gangrened foot."
Have we not had a taste of his obedience ?
Men. Consider this ;-he has been bred i' the wars
Go not home.
Men. I 'll bring him to you :-
[To the Senators. Or what is worse will follow. 1 Sen.
Pray you, let 's to him.
[Exeunt. SCENE II.-A Room in Coriolanus's House.
Enter CorioLANUS and Patricians. Cor. Let them pull all about mine ears ; present me Death on the wheel, or at wild horses' heels; Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, That the precipitation might down stretch Below the beam of sight, yet will I still Be thus to them.
Cor. I muse my mother
Vol. 0, sir, sir, sir,
Let them hang.
Enter MENENIUS and Senators.
thing too rough:
There 's no remedy ;
Pray be counsell'd :
Well said, noble woman!
Cor. What must I do?
Return to the tribunes.
Well, What then? what then ? Men.
Repent what you have spoke. Cor. For them ?-I cannot do it to the gods; Must I then do ’t to them? Vol.
You are too absolute; Though therein you can never be too noble, But when extremities speak. I have heard you say, Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends, l' the war do grow together : Grant that, and tell me, In peace, what each of them by th' other lose, That they combine not there. Cor.
Tush, tush! Men.
A good demand.
Why force you this?