Cor. I fometime lay, here in Corioli,
At a poor man's houfe; he us'd me kindly:
He cry'd to me; I faw him prifoner;

But then Aufidius was within my view,

And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you
To give my poor hoft freedom.

Com. O, well begg'd!

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 tir'd.

Have we no wine here?

Com. Go we to our tent:

The blood upon your vifage dries; 'tis time

It should be look'd to: come.

SCENE X.

The Camp of the Volces.

[Exeunt.

A flourish. Cornets. Enter Tullus Aufidius bloody, with two or three foldiers.

Auf. The town is ta'en!

Sol. 'Twill be deliver'd back on good condition.
Auf. Condition!-

I would, I were a Roman; for I cannot,

Being a Volce, be that I am.-Condition!
What good condition can a treaty find

I' the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius,
I have fought with thee; fo often haft thou beat me;
And would'ft do so, I think, fhould we encounter

VOL. V.

a be that I am.]-appear really fo.

D

As

As often as we eat.-By the elements,

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

b

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 fword); I'll potch at him some way, Or wrath, or craft, may get him.

C

Sol. He's the devil.

Auf. Bolder, though not fo fubtle: My valour, poison'd With only fuffering ftain by him, for him

Shall flie out of itself: nor fleep, nor fanctuary,
Being naked, fick; nor fane, nor Capitol,
The prayers of priests, nor times of facrifice,

d

Embarquements all of fury, fhall lift up

Their rotten privilege and cuftom 'gainst

My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it

e

At home, upon my brother's guard, even there,

f

Against the hofpitable canon, would I

Wash my fierce hand in his heart. Go you to the city; Learn how 'tis held; and what they are, that must

Be hoftages for Rome.

Sol. Will not you go?

g

Auf. I am attended at the cypress grove:

I pray you,

Mine emulation, &c.]-My rivalry-I am not fo honourable an adverfary as I was; for whereas I thought to have fubdued him in equal combat, our fwords being fairly oppofed to each other; I am now refolved to destroy him by whatever means either cunning or cruelty may supply.

With only fuffering stain by him, &c.]-By a fucceffion of defeats, fhall, to be revenged on him, defcend from its native dignity.

d

Embarquements]-Embargoes, the ordinary restraints.

At home, upon my brother's guard,]-In my own houfe, under the protection of my brother.

f the bojpitable canon, ]-the laws of hofpitality.

& I am attended]-to be met with, found.

('Tis fouth the city

mills) bring me word thither

How the world goes; that to the pace
I may spur on my journey.

Sol. I fhall, fir.

of it

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Rome.

Enter Menenius, with 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 beafts 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 fhall ask you. Both. Well, fir.

Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor, that you two have not in abundance ?

Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but ftor'd with all.
Sic. Efpecially, in pride.

Bru. And topping all others in boasting.

h mills]-a mile.

In what enormity, &c.]-What foible is Marcius free from, to you are not exceffively addicted

which

Men. This is ftrange now: Do you two know how you are cenfur'd here in the city, I mean of us o' the right hand file? Do you?

Bru. Why, how are we cenfur'd?

Men. Because you talk of pride now-Will you not be angry?

Both. Well, well, fir, well.

Men. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief * of occafion will rob you of a great deal of patience; give your difpofitions the reins, and be angry at your pleasures; at the leaft, if you take it as a pleasure to you, in being fo. You blame Marcius for being proud?

Bru. We do it not alone, fir.

Men. I know, you can do very little alone; for your helps are many; or elfe your actions would grow wondrous fingle: your abilities are too infant-like, for doing much alone. You talk of pride: Oh, that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior furvey of your good felves! O, that you could!

Bru. What then, fir?

`Men. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, tefty magiftrates (alias, fools), as any in Rome.

Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough too."

Men. I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in't faid to be fomething imperfect," in favour

of occafion]-upon any, at any time.

towards the napes if your necks,]-our own faults are, in the fable, faid to hang behind us.

in favouring the firft complaint;]-in being tranfported with the firft ftart of paffion.

ing the first complaint; hafty, and tinder-like, " upon too trivial motion: one that converfes more with the buttock of the night, than with the forehead of the morning. What I think, I utter; and spend my malice in my breath: Meeting two fuch (I cannot call you Lycurguffes)

P

wealfmen as you are

if the drink you give me, touch my palate adverfely, I make a crooked face at it. I cannot fay, your worships have deliver'd the matter well, when I find the afs in compound with the major part of your fyllables: and though I must be content to bear with those that say you are reverend grave men; yet they lye deadly, that tell you you have good faces. If you fee this in the map of my microcofm, follows it, that I am known well enough too? What harm can your 'biffon confpectuities glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too?

Bru. Come, fir, come, we know you well enough.

Men. You know neither me, yourselves, nor any thing. You are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs: you wear out a good wholefome forenoon, in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and a foffet-feller; and then ' rejourn the controverfy of three-pence to a fecond day of audience.—When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you chance to be pinch'd with the cholic, you make faces like mummers; fet up the bloody flag against all patience, and, in roaring for a

u

upon too trivial motion: &c.]—too flight provocation;-rather a late fitter up, than an early rifer. wealfmen]-politicians.

r

if the drink you give me,]—if your converfation fuit not my taste. 9 in the map of my microcofm,]-in the sketch I have now drawn of myfelf. biffon confpectuities]-blind difcernment. caps and legs :]-their bows and fcrapes, tokens of respect. rejourn]-put off, readjourn.

t

"like mummers; fet up the bloody flag]-like drolls, anticks; declare open war, &c.