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Cor. Prepare thy brow to frown; know'st thou me yet? Auf. I know thee not; thy name?
Cor. My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done To thee particularly, and to all the Volscians, Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may My firname, Coriolanus. The painful service, The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood Shed for my thankless country, are required But with that firname: a good memory, And witness of the malice and displeasure Which thou should'It bear me, only that name remains. The cruelty and envy of the people, Permitted by our daitard nobles, who Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest ; And suffer'd me by th' voice of flaves to be Hoop'd out of Rome. Now, this extremity Hath brought me to thy hearth, not out of hope (Miftake me not) to save my life; for if I had fear'd death, of all the men i'ch' world I'd have avoided thee. But in mere spite To be full quit of those my banihers, Stand I before thee here : then if thou haft A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge Thine own particular wrongs, and stop those maims Of same seen through thy country, speed thee straight, And make my misery serve thy turn: so use it, That my revengeful services may prove As benefits to thee. For I will fight Againit my canker'd country, with the spleen Of all the under fiends. But if so be Thou dar'it not this, and that to prove more fortunes Thou’rt tir'd; then, in a word, I also am Longer to live most weary, and present My throat to thee, and to thy ancient malice : Which not to cut, would shew thee but a fool, Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate, Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast, And cannot live, but to thy shame, unless It be to do thee service. Auf: Oh, Marcius, Marcius,
Each word, thou'st spoke, hath weeded from my heart A root of ancient
If Jupiter Should from yon cloud speak to me things divine, And say, 'tis true; I'd not believe them more Than thee, all-noble Marcius. Let me twine Mine arms about that body, where against My grained afh an hundred times hath broke, And scar'd the moon with splinters: here I clip The anvile of my sword, and do contest As hotly and as nobly with thy love, As ever in ambitious strength I did Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, I lov'd the maid I married ; never man Sigh'd truer breath: but, that I see thee here, Thou noble thing, more dances my rapt heart, Than when I first my wedded mistress Taw Beftride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell thee, We have a power on foot; and I had purpose Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn, Or lose my arm for't i thou hast beat me out Twelve several times, and I have nightly since Dreain't of encounters 'twixt thyself and me: We have been down together in my sleep, Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat, And wak'd half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius, Had we no quarrel else to Rome, but that Thou art thence banish’d, we would muster all From twelve to seventy; and pouring war Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome, Like a bold flood a'er-bear. O come, go in, And take our friendly fenators by th' hands. Who now are here, taking their leaves of me, Who am prepar'd against your territories, Though not for Rome itself.
Cor. You bless me, gods !
Auf. Therefore, most absolute Sir, if thou wilt have The leading of thine own revenges, take One half of my commifion, and let down As bell thou art experienc'd, since thou know'st Thy country's strength and weakness, thine own ways;
Whether to knock against the gates of Rome,
[Exeunt. Enter two Servamts. Ser. Here's a strange alteration. 2 Ser. By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with a cudgel, and yet my mind gave me, his clothes made a faise report of him.
1 Ser. What an arm he has ! he turn'd me about with his finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top.
2 Ser. Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in him. He had, Sir, a kipd of face, methought-I cannot tell how to term it.
1 Ser. He had fo: looking, as it were--would I were hanged, but I thought there was more in him than I could think.
2 Ser. So did I, I'll be sworn: he is simply the rarest man i' th' world.
i Ser. I think, he is; but a greater soldier than he, you wot one.
2 Ser. Who, my master? i Ser. Nay, it's no matter for that. 2 Ser. Worth six on him. 1 Ser. Nay, not so neither; but I take him to be the
2 Ser. Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that; for the defence of a town, our General is excellent. 1 Ser. Ay, and for an assault too.
Enter a third Servant. 3
Ser. Oh, faves, I can tell you news, news, you rascals.
Both. What, what, what, let's partake.
3. Ser. I would not be a Roman, of all nations ; I had as lieve be a condemn'd man.
Both. Wherefore? wherefore? 3
Ser. Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our General, Gains Marcixs.
i Ser. Why do you say, thwack our General?
3 Ser. I do not say, thwack our General; but he was always good enough for him.
2 Ser. Come, we are fellows and friends, he was ever too hard for him, I have heard him say so himself.
1 Ser. He was too hard for him directly, to say the troth on't: before Corioli, he scocht him and notcht him like a carbonado.
2 Ser. And, had he been cannibally given, he might have broil'd and eaten him too.
i Ser. But, more of thy news;
3 Ser. Why, he is so made on here within, as if he were son and heir to Mars : set at upper end o'th' table; no question ask'd him by any of the senators, but they stand bald before him. Our General himself makes a mistress of him, fanctifies himself wich's hands, and turns up the white o'th' eye to his discourse. But the bottom of the news is, our General is cut i'th' middle, and but one half of what he was yesterday. For the other has half, by the intreaty and grant of the whole table. He'll go, he says, and fowle the porter of Rome gates by th' ears. He will mow down all before him, and leave his paffage polld.
2 Ser. And he's as like to do't aş'any man I can imagine.
3 Ser. Do't! he will do't: for look you, Sir, he has as many friends as enemies; which friends, Sir, as it were, durft not (look you, Sir) shew themselves (as we term it) his friends, whilft he's in directitude.
i Ser. Directitude! what's that?
3 Ser. But when they fhall see, Sir, his crest up again, and the inan in blood, they will out of their burroughs (like conies after rain (and revel all with him.
1 Ser. But when goes this forward ?
3 Ser. 3. Ser. To-morrow, to-day, presently, you shall have the drum ftruck up this afternoon: ’tis, as it were, a parcel of their fealt, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips.
2 Ser. Why, then we shall have a ftirring world again : this peace is worth nothing, but to ruft iron, encrease taylors, and breed ballad-makers,
1 Ser. Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace, as far as day does night; it's fprightly, waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy, mull'd, deaf, sleepy, infenfible, a getter of more bastard children than war's a destroyer of men.
2 Ser, 'Tis so; and as war in some fort may be faid to be a ravisher, fo it cannot be denied, but peace is a great maker of cuckolds.
1 Ser. Ay, and it makes men hate one another. 3
Ser. Reason, because they then less need one another: the wars, for my money. I hope, to fee Romans as cheap as Volscians. They are rifing, they are rifing. Both. In, in, in, in.
SCENE, a publick Place in Rome.
Enter Sicinius and Brutus.
Sic.(33) W Whis remedies are tame i'ch'prelent peace,
And quietness o’th people, which before
His remeaies are tame; the present peace
Were in wild burry.] As this passage has been hitherto pointed, it labours under two absurdities; firt, that the peace abroad, and the quietness of the populace at home, are calls Marcius's remedies; whereas, in truth, these were the impediments of his revenge: In the next place, the latter branch of the sentence is imperfect and ungrammaticale My regulation prevents both these inconveniencies.