Men. I could myself take up a brace o' th' beft of them; yea, the two tribunes,

Com. But now, 'tis odds beyond arithmetick; And manhood is call'd fool'ry, when it stands Against a falling fabrick. Will you hence, Before the tag return, whofe rage

doth rend

Like interrupted waters, and o'erbear
What they are us'd to bear.

Men. Pray you, be gone:

I'll try, if my old wit be in request

With thofe that have but little; this must be pacht
With cloth of any colour.

Com. Come away. [Exeunt Coriolanus and Cominius. 1 Sen. This man has marr'd his fortune.

Men. His nature is too noble for the world:

He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,

Or Jove for's power to thunder: his heart's his mouth: What his breaft forges, that his tongue muft vent; And being angry, does forget that ever

He heard the name of death.

Here's goodly work.

2 Sen. I would they were a-bed.

[A noife within.

Men. I would they were in Tyber.-What, the ven

Could he not speak 'em fair?

[geance,

Enter Brutus and Sicinius, with the rabble again.

Sic. Where is this viper,

That would depopulate the city,

Be every man himself?

Men. You worthy tribunes

Sic. He fhall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock
With rigorous hands; he hath refifted law,

And therefore law fhall fcorn him further trial
Than the feverity of publick power,

Which he fo fets at nought.

1 Cit. He fhall well know, the noble tribunes are The people's mouths, and we their hands.

All. He fhall be fure on't.

Men. Sir, Sir,

Sic. Peace.

Men.

Men. Do not cry havock, where you fhould but hunt

With modeft warrant.

Sic. Sir, how comes it, you

Have holp to make this rescue ?
Men. Hear me speak;

As I do know the conful's worthiness,
I name his faults-

So can

Sic. Conful!-what conful!

Men. The conful Coriolanus.
Bru. He conful!-

All. No, no, no, no, no.

Men. If by the tribunes leave, and yours, good people, I may be heard, I'd crave a word or two;

The which fhall turn you to no further harm,
Than fo much lofs of time.

Sic. Speak briefly then,

For we are peremptory to dispatch

This viperous traitor; to eject him hence, (24)
Were but our danger; and to keep him here,
Our certain death; therefore it is decreed,
He dies to-night.

Men. Now the good gods forbid,

That our renowned Rome, whofe gratitude
Tow'rds her deferving children is enroll'd
In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam
Should now eat up her own!

Sic. He's a disease that must be cut away.
Men. Oh, he's a limb, that has but a difeafe;
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 loft
(Which I dare vouch, is more than that he hath,
By many an ounce) he dropt it for his country:
And what is left, to lose it by his country,

(24)

-To eject bim bence

Were but one danger, and to keep him bere

Our certain death;] This reading, which has obtain'd in the printed copies, deftroys that climax which evidently feems defign'd here, and flattens the fentiment. In my opinion, the tribune would fay, "To banish him, will be hazardous to us; to let him remain "at home, our certain destruction."

VOL. VI.

T

Were

Were to us all that do't, and fuffer it,

A brand to th' end o' th' world.

Sic. This is clean kamme.

Bru. Merely awry: when he did love his country, It honour'd him.

Men. The fervice of the foot

Being once gangreen'd, it is not then respected
For what before it was-

Bru. We'll hear no more.

Purfue him to his houfe, and pluck him thence ;
Left his infection, being of catching nature,
Spread further.

Men. One word more, one word:

This tiger-footed rage, when it fhall find

The harm of unfkann'd fwiftnefs, will (too late)
Tie leaden pounds to's heels. Proceed by procefs,
Left parties (as he is belov'd) break out,
And fack great Rome with Romans.

Bru. If 'twere fo

Sic. What do ye talk?

Have we not had a taste of his obedience ?

Our Ediles fmote, ourselves refifted, come

Men. Confider this; he hath been bred i' th' wars Since he could draw a fword, and is ill-fchool'd In boulted language; meal and bran together He throws without diftin&tion. Give me leave, I'll go to him, and undertake to bring him Where he fhall answer by a lawful form, In peace, to his utmoft peril.

i Sen. Noble tribunes,

It is the humane way; the other courfe
Will prove too bloody, and the end of it
Unknown to the beginning.

Be

Sic. Noble Menenius,

you then as the people's officer. Mafters, lay down your weapons. Bru. Go not home.

Sic. Meet on the forum; we'll attend you there, Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed In our first way.

Men. I'll bring him to you.

Let me defire your company; he must come,
Or what is worft will follow.

1 Sen. Pray, let's to him.

Cor.

[Exeunt

SCENE changes to Coriolanus's Houfe.
Enter Coriolanus, with Nobles.

·L

ET them pull all about mine ears, prefent me Death on the wheel, or at wild horfes heels, Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, That the precipitation might down ftretch Below the beam of fight, yet will I ftill Be thus to them.

Enter Volumnia.

Noble. You do the nobler.

Cor. I mufe, my mother

Does not approve me further, who was wont
To call them woollen vaffals, things created
To buy and fell with groats; to fhew bare heads
In congregations, yawn, be ftill, and wonder,
When one but of my ordinance flood up
To fpeak of peace or war; (I talk of you)
Why did you with me milder? wou'd you have me
Falfe to my nature ? rather fay, I play

The man I am.

Vol. Oh, Sir, Sir, Sir,

I would have had you put your power well on,
Before you had worn it out.

Cor. Let it

go.

Vol. You might have been enough the man you are, With ftriving lefs to be fo. Leffer had been (25) The thwartings of your difpofitions, if

The things that thwart your difpofitions,]

The old copies exhibit it,

The things of your difpofitions.

A few letters replac'd, that by fome carelessness drop'd out, restore us

the poet's genuine reading;

The thwartings of your difpofitions.

You had not fhew'd them how ye were dispos'd
Ere they lack'd power to cross you.

Cor. Let them hang.

Vol. Ay, and burn too.

Enter Menenius, with the Senators.

Men. Come, come, you've been too rough, fomething too rough:

You must return, and mend it.

Sen. There's no remedy,
Unless, by not fo doing, our good city
Cleave in the midst, and perish.

Vol. Pray, be counsell'd;

I have a heart as little apt as yours,
But yet a brain that leads my use of anger

To better vantage.

Men. Well faid, noble woman :

(26) Before he fhould thus ftoop to th' herd, but that

The violent fit o' th' times craves it as phyfick

For the whole ftate, I'd put mine armour on,

Which I can scarcely bear.

Cor. What must I do?

Men. Return to th' tribunes.

Cor. Well, what then? what then?
Men. Repent what you have spoke.

Cor. For them?—I cannot do it for the gods,
Muft I then do't to them?

Vol. You are too abfolute,

Tho' therein you can never be too noble,
But when extremities fpeak. I've heard you fay,
Honour and policy, like unfever'd friends,

I' th' war do grow together; grant that, and tell me

(26) Before be thus fhould froop to th' heart,-] But how did Corislanus ftoop to his heart? he rather, as we vulgarly exprefs it, made his proud heart ftoop to the neceffity of the times. I am perfuaded, my emendation gives the true reading. So, before, in this play; Are thefe your berd?

So, in Julius Cæfar;

When he perceiv'd, the common berd was glad he refus'd the Crown, &c.

And in many other paffages,

1