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He kill'd my son, - my daughter,-kill'd my cousin,
He kill'd my father. (The Croud Speak promiscuously.

2 Lord. Peace,- no outrage---peace
The man is noble, and his fame folds in
This orb o'th' earth; his last offences to us
Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius,
And trouble not the

Cor. O that I had him,
With fix Aufidius's, or more, his tribe,
To use my lawful sword.

Auf. Insolent villain !
All Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.

· [The Conspirators all draw, and kill Marcius,

who falls, and Aufidius ftands on bim.
Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold.
Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak.
I Lord. O Tullus-

2 Lord. Thou hast done a deed, whereat
Valour will weep.
Lord. Tread not upon

him-masters all, be quiet; Put up your swords.

Auf. My Lords, when you shall know (as in this rage
Provok'd by him, you cannot) the great danger
Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice
That he is thus cut off. Please it your Honours
To call me to your Senate, I'll deliver
Myself your loyal servant, or endure
Your heaviest censure.

i Lord. Bear from hence his body,
And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded
As the most noble coarse, that ever Herald
Did follow to his urn.

2 Lord. His own impatience
Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame :
Let's make the best of it.

Auf. My rage is gone,
And 'I am struck with sorrow : take him up :
Help, three o'th' chiefest soldiers ; I'll be one.
Beat thou the drum, that it fpeak mournfully.

Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he
Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail the injury,
Yet he shall have a noble memory.

[Exeunt, bearing the body of Marcius. A dead

March founded.

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