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Or, if you'd ask, remember this before ;
Vol. Oh, no more ; no more :
Cor. Aufidius, and you Volfcians, mark; for we'll
Vol. Should we be filent and not speak, our raiment And state of bodies would bewray what life We've lead since thy exile. Think with thyself, How more unfort'nate than all living women Are we come hither; since thy fight, which should Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with com
forts, Constrains them weep, and shake with fear and forrow; Making the mother, wife, and child to see The son, the husband, and the father tearing His country's bowels out: and to poor we, Thine enmity's most capital; thou barr'it us Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort That all but we enjoy. For how can we, Alas! how can we, for our country pray, Whereto we're bound together with thy victory, Whereto we're bound? Alack! or we muft lofe The country, our dear nurse; or else thy person, Our comfort in the country. We must find An eminent calamity, though we had Our with, which fide shou'd win. For either thon Must, as a foreign recreant, be led With manacles along our streets; or else
Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin,
Virg. Ay, and mine too,
Boy. He shall not tread on me;
Cor. Not of a woman's tenderness to be,
Vol. Nay, go not from us thus : If it were so, that our request did tend To save the Romans, thereby to deftroy The Volscians whom you serve, you might condemn us, As poisonous of your honour. No; our suit Is, that you reconcile them : while the Volscians May say, This mercy we have shew'd ; the Romans, This we receiv'd ; and each in either side Give the all-hail to thee, and cry, Be bleft For making up this peace ! Thou know'ft, great fon, The end of war's uncertain ; but this certain, That if thou conquer Rome, the benefit, Which thou shalt thereby reap, is such a name, Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses : Whole chronicle thus writ, the man was noble • But with his last attempt he wip'd it out,
Destroy'd his country, and his name remains • To th' ensuing age, abhorr’d.' Speak to me, fon: Thou haft affected the firft strains of honour, To imitate the graces of the gods; To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o'th' air,
And yet to charge thy fulphur with a holt, (40)
Down; and end ;
That should tut rive an oak.]
His wife is in Corioli; and his cbild
lite bim by cbance ;-] But tho' his wife was in Corioli, might not his child, nevertheless, be like him? The minute alteration I have made, I am persuaded, restores the true reading. Volumnia would hint, that Coriolanus by his stern behaviour had lost all familyregards, and did not remember that he had any child. I am not his mother, (says The) his wife is in Corioli, and this child, whom we bring with us, (young Marcius ) is not his child, but only bears his refemblance.by chance,
Like him by chance; yet give us our dispatch :
[Holds her by the bands, filent.
Auf. I too was mov'd.
Cór. I dare be sworn, you were ;
Auf. I'm glad, thou't fet thy mercy and thy honour
[ Afide. Cor. Ay, by and by; but we will drink together; And you Thall bear
[T. Vol. Virg. &c. A better witness back than words, which we, On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd. Come, enter with us : Ladies, you deserve To have a temple built you: all the swords In Italy, and her confederate arms, Could not have made this peace.
SCE N E, the Forum, in Rome.
Enter Menenius and Sicinius.
E E you yond coin o' th' capitol, yond corner-
[stone ? Men. If it be possible for you to displace it with your little finger, there is some hope the Ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. But, I say, there is no hope in’t; our throats are sentenced, and stay upon execution.
Sic. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter the condition of a man?
Men. There is difference between a grub and a butterfly, yet your butterfly was a grub; this Marcius is grown from man to dragon: he has wings; le's more than a creeping thing.
Sic. He lov'd his mother dearly.
Men. So did he me ; and he no more remembers his mother now, than an eight years old horse. The tartness of his face fours ripe grapes. When he walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground thrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corslet with his eye: talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He fits in his itate, as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done, is finish'd with his bidding. He wants nothing of a God, but eternity, and a heaven to throne in..
Sic. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly.
Men. I paint him in the character. Mark, what mercy his mother shall bring from him; there is no more mercy in him, than there is milk in a male tyger; that fall our poor city find; and all this is long of: you.
Sic. The gods be good unto us!
When we banilh'd him, we respected not them : and he returning to break our necks, they respect