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Where he should find you lions, finds you hares:
Where foxes, geefe: you are no furer, no,
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,

Or hail-ftone in the fun. Your virtue is,
To make him worthy, whofe offence fubdues him,
And curfe that juftice did it. Who deferves greatnefs,
Deferves your hate; and your affections are
A fick man's appetite, who defires most that
Which would increase his evil. He that depends
Upon your favours, fwims with fins of lead,
And hews down oaks with rufhes. Hang ye truft ye!
With every minute you do change a mind,
And call him noble, that was now your hate;
Him vile, that was your garland.

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SCENE V. Aufidius's Hatred to Coriolanus.
-Nor fleep, nor fanctuary,

Being naked, fick, nor fame, nor capitol,
The prayers of priests, nor times of facrifice,
Embarments of all fury, fhall lift up
Their rotten privilege and cuftom 'gainst
My hate to Marcius. Where I find him, were it

Of whom to be difprais'd, were no small praise,
His lot who dares be fingularly good?

Th' intelligent among them and the wife

V Are few, and glory scarce of few is rais'd.



In the fecond line of the text, the meaning feems plain to any vulgar reader; but Mr. Warburton imagining fomething more than his author intended, alters it to

That likes not peace nor war.

The author is describing the fickleness of the mob, whom nothing pleases; uneafy, murmuring and rebellious in time of peace; fearful, difcontented and cowardly in time of war; affrighted and rendered clamorous by the one; faucy and wavering, being made proud, by the other. The reader may fee the humour of this fet of people, in the 4th Act, and 8th Scene of the play, which (if there wants any) may cast some light on the paffage.

At home upon my brother's guard, ev'n there,
Against the hofpitable canon, wou'd I
Wash my fierce hand in's heart.

SCENE VI. An imaginary Defcription of Corio lanus warring.

(2) Methinks, I hither hear your husband's drum; I fee him pluck Aufidius down by th' hair: As children from a bear, the Volfci fhunning him: Methinks, I fee him ftamp thus-and call thus"Come on ye cowards, ye were got in fear, Though ye were born in Rome:" his bloody brow With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes Like to a harvest man, that's talk'd to mow Or all, or lose his hire.

Virg. His bloody brow! Oh, Jupiter, no blood!
Vol. Away, you fool; it more becomes a man,
Than gilt his trophy. The breast of Hecuba,
When the did fuckle Hector, look'd not lovelier
Than Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood
At Grecian fwords contending.

SCENE XI. Doing our Duty merits not Praise.
Pray, now no more: my mother,
Who has a charter to extol her blood,
When she does praise me, grieves me:

I have done as you have done, that's what I can;
Induc'd, as you have been, that's for my country;
He that has but effected his good will,
Hath overta'en mine act.


(2) Methinks, &c.] This martial fpeech is fpoken by Volumnia, the mother of Coriolanus, to his wife Virgilia. I cannot approve the third line: the word children is frequently made three fylla bles by Shakespear, and other old poets; fo that we might read, as children a bear, or rather, as children do a bear. It may indeed do as it now stands, Shunning being taken in the sense of flying, but still, funning from, is harth.



All tongues fpeak of him, and the bleared fights Are fpectacled to fee him. Your prattling nurse Into a (3) rapture lets her baby cry,


(3) Rapture.] i. e. A taking away, a fit. Seld-Shown Flamins, is particular,meaning, feldom fhewn or feen. The war of white and damafk means only the firuggle, or contention between them for fuperiority: and tho', as Mr. Warburton obferves, "it is the agreement and union of the colours that make the beauty;" yet thefe two may be well faid to war or contend with each other for fuperior beauty: fo that I think, there is no need of altering the paffage, as he would have it, to ware. The expreffion, that whatsoever god who leads him, is particular too, and is to be understood as if he had faid, as if that god, whatever god it be, who leads bim, &c.

When I made the remark above on Mr. Warburton's criticism of ware, I did not know Mr. Edwards had taken any notice of it: however, I find in the 94th page of his Canons of Criticism, he obferves, "Perhaps fome other profeffed critic, difliking Mr. Warburton's Commodity, and being offended with the idea of ve nality which the word merchandife gives in this place, (for the reader must know, he explains ware, by commodity and merchandije) may tell us we should read, commit the wear, i. e. hazard the wearing out-commit, from commettre, an old French word, which is no fmall recommendation to it; but a poor poetical reader would let this figure pafs; and not be alarmed (except for his own heart) on account of this innocent war between the roses and lillies in a lady's cheek; remembering that beautiful tho' fimple defcription of it, in the old ballad of Fair Rofamond.

The blood within her crystal cheeks
Did fuch a colour drive,

As though the lilly and the rofe
For maflership did strive.

If Mr. Warburton fhould object to the authority of this unknown poet, I hope he will allow that of Shakespear himself, who in his Tarquin and Lucrece, has these lines,

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While the chats him: the kitchin malkin pins
Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck,
Clamb'ring the walls to eye him; ftalls, bulks, windows
Are fmother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges hors'd
With variable complexions: all agreeing
In earnestness to fee him: feld-fhown flamins
Do prefs among the popular throngs, and puff
To win a vulgar station; our veil'd dames
Commit the war of white and damask, in
Their nicely-gawded cheeks, to th' wanton fpoil
Of Phoebus' burning kifles: fuch a pother,
As if that whatsoever god, who leads him,
Were flily crept into his human powers,
And gave him graceful pofture.


Cominius' Speech in the Senate.

I fhall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus
Should not be utter'd feebly. It is held
That valour is the chiefeit virtue, and
Moft dignifies the haver: if it be,
The man I fpeak of cannot in the world
Be fingly counterpois'd. At fixteen years,
When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought
Beyond the mark of others: our then dictator,
Whom with all praise I point at, faw him fight,
When with his Amazonian chin he drove
The bristled lips before him: he beftrid
An o'er-preft Roman, and i'th' conful's view
Slew three oppofers; Tarquin's felf he met,
And struck him on his knee: in that day's feats,
When he might act the woman in the scene,

This filent war of lillies and of rofes,
Which Tarquin view'd in her fair face's field.

See too the foregoing stanza in the fame poem.


P. 103. Sewel's od,

He prov'd best man i'th' field, and for his meed
Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil-age
Man enter'd thus, he waxed like a sea,
And in the brunt of seventeen battles fince

He lurch'd all fwords o'th' garland. For this last
Before, and in Corioli, let me fay

I cannot speak him home: he ftopt the flyers,
And by his rare example made the coward
Turn terror into fport. As waves before
A veffel under fail, fo men obey'd,

And fell below his ftern: his fword (death's ftamp)
Where it did mark, it took from face to foot:
He was a thing of blood, whofe every motion
Was trimm'd with dying cries: alone he enter'd
The mortal gate o'th' city, which he painted
With fhunless destiny: aidlefs came off,
And with a fudden re-inforcement struck
Corioli, like a planet. Nor all's this;
For by and by the din of war 'gan pierce
His ready fenfe, when ftraight his doubled spirit
Requicken'd what in flesh was fatigate,
And to the battle came he; where he did
Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if
"Twere a perpetual spoil; and till we call'd
Both field and city ours, he never stood
To ease his breast with panting.


The Mischief of Anarchy.
My foul akes

To know, when two authorities are up,
Neither fupreme, how foon confufion
May enter 'twixt the gap of both, and take
The one by th' other.


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