SCENE VI-Near the Camp of Cominius. Enter Cominius and Forces, retreating.

Com. Breathe you, my friends; well fought. We

are come off

Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands,
Nor cowardly in retire: Believe me, sirs,

We shall be charg'd again. Whiles we have struck,
By interims, and conveying gusts, we have heard
The charges of our friends :-The Roman gods,
Lead their successes as we wish our own;

That both our pow'rs, with smiling fronts encountering,

Enter a Messenger.

May give you thankful sacrifice!-Thy news!
Mes. The citizens of Corioli have issued,
And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle:
I saw our party to their trenches driven,
And then I came away.

Com.
Though thou speak'st truth,
Methinks, thou speak'st not well. How long is't since?

Mes. Above an hour, my lord.

Com. "Tis not a mile: Briefly, we heard their drums: How could'st thou in a mile confound an hour, And bring thy news so late? Mes. Spies of the Volces Held me in chase, that I was forc'd to wheel 'Three or four miles about; else had I, sir, Half an hour since brought my report. Enter Marcius.

Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? Where is he? Cail him hither,

Let him alone;

Mar. He did inform the truth: But for our gentlemen, The common file, (A plague!-tribunes for them!) The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat, as they did budge From rascals worse than they.

Com. But how prevail'd you? Mar. Will the time serve to tell? I do not thinkWhere is the enemy? Are you lords o' the field?

If not, why cease you till you are so?

Com. Marcins, we have at disadvantage fought,

And did retire to win our purpose.

Mar. How lies their battle? Know you on which side

They have plae'd their men of trust?

And follow Marcius.

[They all shout, and wave their swords; take him
up in their arms, and cast up their caps

O me, alone! Make you a sword of me?
If these shows be not outward, which of you
But is four Volces? None of you but is
Able to bear against the great Aufidius
A shield as hard as his. A certain number,
Though thanks to all, must I select: the rest
Shall bear the business in some other fight,
As cause will be obey'd. Please you to march;
And four shall quickly draw out my command,
Which men are best inclin'd.

Com.

March on, my fellows; Make good this ostentation, and you shall Divide in all with us.

[Exeunt SCENE VII-The Gates of Corioli. Titus Lartis, having set a Guard upon Corioli, going with a Drum and Trumpet toward Cominius and Caius Marcius, enters with a Lieutenant, a party of Soldiers, and s

Halloo me like a hare.

Mar.

Within these three hours, Tullus, Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, And made what work I pleas'd: 'Tis not my blood, Wherein thou seest me mask'd; for thy revenge, Wrench up thy power to the highest."

Auf. Wert thou the Hector, That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny, Thou should'st not seape me here.—

[They fight, and certain Volces come to the aid of Aufidius. Officious, and not valiant-you have sham'd me In your condemned seconds.

[Exeunt fighting, driven in by Marcius.

SCENE IX-The Roman Camp. Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter at one side, Cominius, and Romans; at the other side, Marcins, with his arm in a scarf, and other Romans

Com. If I should tell thec o'er this thy day's work,
Thou'lt not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it,
Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles;
Where great patricians shall attend, and shrug,
I'the end, admire; where ladies shall be frighted,
And, gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dull tri-
bunes,

That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours,
Shall say, against their hearts,-We thank the gods,
Our Rome hath such a soldier!—

Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast,

Having fully din'd before.

Mar. May these same instruments, which you pro

fane,

Never sound more! when drums and trumpets shall
I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be
Made all of false-fac'd soothing! When steel grows
Soft as the parasite's silk, let him be made
An overture for the wars!-No more, I say ;
For that I have not wash'd my nose that bled,
Or foil'd some debile wretch,-which, without notez
Here's many else have done,-you shout me forth
In acclamations hyperbolical;

As if I lov'd, my little should be dieted
In praises saue'd 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 incens'd, 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!

[Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums. All. Caius Marcius Coriolanus!

Cor. I will go wash;

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

O general,

The grave of your deserving; Rome must know
The value of her own: 'twere a concealment
Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement,
To hide your doings; and to silence that,
Which to the spire and top of praises vouch'd,
Would seem but modest: Therefore, I beseech you,
(In sign of what you are, not to reward
What
you
have done,) before our army hear me.
Mar. I have some wounds upon me, and they start
To hear themselves remember'd.

To undercrest your good addition,
To the fairness of my power.

Coni.
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
Refus'd most princely gifts, am bound to beg
Of my lord general.
Com.

Take it: 'tis yours.-What is't?
Cor. I sometime lay, here in Corioli,
At a poor man's house; he us'd me kindly;
He cried to me; I saw him prisoner;
But then Aufidius was within my view,
And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you
To give my poor host 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 :

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; so often hast thou beat me;
And would'st 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.

at your pleasures; at the least, if you take it as a picasure to you, in being so. You blame Marcius for be ing proud?

Bru. We do it not alone, sir.

Men. I know, you can do very little alone; for your helps are many; or else your actions would grow wondrous single: your abilities are too infant-like, for doing much alone. You talk of pride: 0, that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O, that you could!

Bru. What then, sir?

Men. Why, then you should discover a brace of un

poison'd,

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 his heart. Goyou to the city;
Learn, how 'tis held; and what they are, that must
Be hostages for Rome.

1 Sol.

Will not you go?

Auf. I am attended at the cypress grove ; I pray you,

('Tis 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 Sol.

I shall, sir.

ACT II.

[Exeunt.

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

Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all. Sic. Especially, in pride.

Bru. And topping all others in boasting.

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

Both Trib. Why, how are we censur'd? Men. Because you talk of pride now,-Will you not be angry?

Both Trib. Well, well, sir, well.

Men. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience: give your disposition the reins, and be angry

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 al laying Tyber in't; said to be something imperfect, in favouring the first complaint: hasty, and tinder-like, upon too trivial motion: one that converses more with the buttock of the night, than with the forehead of the morning. What I think, I utter; and spend my wal ice in my breath: Meeting two such weals-men as you are, (I cannot call you Lycurguses.) if the drink you gave me, touch my palate adversely, I make a crooked face at it. I cannot say your worships have delivered the matter well, when I find the ass is compound with the major part of your syllables: and though I must be content to bear with those that say you are rever end grave men; yet they lie deadly, that tell, you have good faces. If you see this in the map of my microcosm. follows it, that I am known well enough too? What barn: can your bisson conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too?

Bru. Come, sir, 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 wholesome forenoon, in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and a fosset seller; and then rejourn the controversy of three-pence to a second day of audience.-When you are hearings matter between party and party, if you chance to be pinched with the colic, you make faces like mummers; set up the bloody flag against all patience; and, in roaring for a chamber-pot, dismiss the controversy bleeding, the more intangled by your hearing: all the peace you make in their cause, is, calling both the parties knaves: You are a pair of strange ones.

Bru. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table, than a necessary bencher in the capitol.

Men. Our very priests must become mockers, if they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging of your beards; and your beards deserve not so honourable a grave, as to stuif a botcher's cushion, or to be entombed in an ass's pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marciós is proud; who, in a cheapes timation, is worth all your predecessors, since Deuca lion; though, peradventure, some of the best of them were hereditary hangmen. Good e'en to your wor ships; more of your conversation would infeet my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians; I will be bold to take my leave of you.

[Brutus and Sicinius retire to the back of the scene. Enter Volumnia. Virgilia, and Valeria, How now, my as fair as noble ladies, (and the moon, were she earthly, no nobler,) whither do your eyes so fast?

you

follow