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ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may | Great cause to give great thanks.
prevail with him. But I say, there is no hope
in't; our throats are sentenced, and stay* upon

Sic. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter the condition of a man?

Men. There is differency between a grub, and a butterfly; yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown from man to dragon: he has wings; he's more than a creeping thing. Sic. He loved his mother dearly.

Sic. They are near the city?
Mess. Almost at point to enter.
Sic. We will meet them,
And help the joy.


Enter the Ladies, accompanied by SENATORS,
PATRICIANS, and People. They pass over the

1 Sen. Behold our patroness, the life of

Call all your tribes together, praise the gods,
And make triumphant fires; strew flowers be-

fore them:

Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius,
him with the welcome of his mother;
Cry,-Welcome, ladies, welcome!-
All. Welcome, ladies!

Men. So did he me: and he no more remembers his mother now, than an eight year old horse. The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes. When he walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground shrinks before his tread-Repeal ing. He is able to pierce a corslet with his eye; talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He sits in his state, as a thing madet for Alexander. What he bids be done, is finished 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 tiger; that shall our poor city find: and all this is 'long of you.

Sic. The gods be good unto us! Men. No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us. When we banished him, we respected not them: and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us.

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The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune,
And hale him up and down; all swearing, if|
The Roman ladies bring not comfort home,
They'll give him death by inches.

Enter another MESSENGER.

Sic. What's the news?

Mess. Good news, good news;-The ladies
have prevail'd,

The Volces are dislodg'd, and Marcius gone:
A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,
No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins.

Sic. Friend,

of it?

Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain? Mess. As certain as I know the sun is fire: Where have you lurk’d, that you make doubt [tide, Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown As the recomforted through the gates. Why, [Trumpets and Hautboys sounded, and Drums beaten, all together. Shouting also within. The trumpets, sack buts, psalteries, and fifes, Tabors, and cymbals, and the shouting Romans, Make the sun dance. Hark you!

hark you;

[Shouting again.


Men. This is good news:
I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia
Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians,
A city full of tribunes, such as yon,
A sea and land full: You have pray'd well to-
This morning, for ten thousand of your throats
I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy!
[Shouting and Music.
Sic. First, the gods bless you for their tid.
ings: next,
Accept my thankfulness.
Mess. Sir, we have all

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[A flourish with Drums and Trumpets.

SCENE V.-Antium.-A Public Place.
Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, with Attendants,
Deliver them this paper: having read it,
Auf. Go tell the lords of the city, I am here:
Bid them repair to the market-place; where I,
Even in theirs and in the commons' ears,
The city portst by this hath enter'd, and
Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse,
Intends to appear before the people, hoping
To purge himself with words: Despatch.

[Exeunt Attendants.


Most welcome!

1 Con. How is it with our general?
Auf. Even so,

As with a man by his own alms empoison'd,
And with his charity slain.

2 Con. Most noble Sir,

If you do hold the same intent wherein
You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you

Of your great danger.

Auf. Sir, I cannot tell;

We must proceed, as we do find the people.
3 Con. The people will remain uncertain,

Makes the survivor heir of all.
'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of

And my pretext to strike at him admits
Auf. I know it;
A good construction. I rais'd him, and I
Mine honour for his truth: Who being so heigh
Seducing so my friends: and, to this end,
He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery,
He bow'd his nature, never known before
But to be rough, unswayable, and free.
3 Con. Sir, his stoutness,

When he did stand for consul, which he lost
By lack of stooping,

Auf. That I would have spoke of:
Being banish'd for't he came unto my hearth;
Presented to my knife his throat: I took him;
Made him joint-servant with me; gave him
In all his own desires; nay, let him choose
Out of my files, his projects to accomplish,
My best and freshest men; serv'd his design-


In mine own person; holpt to reap the fame,
Which he did end all his; and took some pride
To do myself this wrong: till, at the last,

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I seem'd his follower, not partner; and
He wag'd me with his countenance,* as if
I had been mercenary.

1 Con. So he did, my lord:

The army marvell'd at it. And, in the last, When he had carried Rome; and that we look'd For no less spoil, than glory,

Auf. There was it;

For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him.

At a few drops of women's rheum,+ which are As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour Of our great action; Therefore shall he die, And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark! [Drums and Trumpets sound, with great shouts of the People.

1 Con. Your native town you enter'd like a post,

And had no welcomes home; but he returns, Splitting the air with noise.

2 Con. And patient fools,

Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear,

With giving him glory.

3 Con. Therefore, at your vantage, Ere he express himself, or move the people With what he would say, let him feel your sword,

Which we will second. When he lies along, After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury His reasons with his body.

Auf. Say no more;

Here comes the lords.

Enter the LORDS of the City.

Lords. You are most welcome home.

Auf. I have not deserv'd it,

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Coriolanus in Corioli?

You lords and heads of the state, perfidiously
He has betray'd your business, and given up
For certain drops of salt, your city Rome
(I say, your city,) to his wife and mother:
Breaking his oath and resolution, like
A twist of rotten silk; never admitting
Counsel o'the war; but at his nurse's tears
He whin'd and roar'd away your victory;
That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart
Look'd wondering each at other.

Cor. Hear'st thou, Mars?

Auf. Name not the god, thou boy of tears,— Cor. Ha!

Auf. No more.t

Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my


Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave!

Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever I was forc'd to scold. Your judgements, my Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion grave lords, (Who wears my stripes impress'd on him; that must bear

My beating to his grave;) shall join to thrust The lie unto him.

1 Lord. Peace, both, and hear me speak. Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volces; men and lads,

But, worthy lords, have you with heed perus'd Stain all your edges on me.-Boy! False

What I have written to you?

Lords. We have.

Lord. And grieve to hear it.

What faults he made before the last, I think, Might have found easy fines: but there to end,

Where he was to begin; and give away
The benefit of our levies, answering us
With our own charge;‡ making a treaty, where
There was a yielding; This admits no excuse.
Auf. He approaches, you shall hear him.
Enter CORIOLANUS, with Drums and Colours; a
Croud of CITIZENS with him.

Cor. Hail, lords! I am returned your



If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
That like an eagle in a dove-cote, I
Flutter'd your voices in Corioli:
Alone I did it.-Boy!

Auf. Why, noble lords,

Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart,

'Fore your own eyes and ears?

Con. Let him die for't. [Several speak at once. pieces, do it presently. He killed my son ;Cit. [Speaking promiscuously.] Tear him to my daughter;-He killed my cousin Marcus; sol--He killed my father.

No more infected with my country's love, Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting Under your great command. You are to know, That prosperously I have attempted, and With bloody passage, led your wars, even to The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home,

Do more than counterpoise, a full third part, The charges of the action. We have made


With no less honour to the Antiates,§

Than shame to the Romans: And we here de


Subscrib'd by the consuls and patricians, Together with the seal o'the senate, what We have compounded on.

Auf. Read it not, noble lords;

But tell the traitor, in the highest degree He hath abus'd your powers.

*Thought me rewarded with good looks. + Rewarding us with our own expenses. People of Antium.

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

Cor. O, that I had him,
With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe,
To use my lawful sword!

Auf. Insolent villain!

Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him. [AUFIDIUS and the CONSPIRATORS draw, and kill CORIOLANUS, who falls, and AUFIDIUS stands on him.

Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold.

Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak. 1 Lord. O Tullus,—

2 Lord. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep.

3 Lord. Tread not upon him.-Masters all, be quiet;

Put up your swords.

+ Tears.

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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.

1 Lord. Bear from hence his body,

And mourn you for him: let him be regarded As the most noble corse, that ever herald Did follow to his urn.

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SCENE I.-Rome.-A Street.

Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and a Rabble of CITIZENS.

Flav. Hence; home, you idle creatures, get you home;

Is this a holiday? What! know you not,
Being mechanical, you ought not walk,
Upon a labouring day, without the sign
Of your profession?-Speak, what trade art

1 Cit. Why, Sir, a carpenter.

Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule?

What dost thou with thy best apparel on?You, Sir; what trade are you?

2 Cit. Truly, Sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler. Mar. But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.

2 Cit. A trade, Sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, Sir, a mender of bad soals.

Mar. What trade, thou knave; thou naughty knave, what trade?

2 Cil. Nay, I beseech you, Sir, be not out with me: yet, if you be out, Sir, I can mend

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they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neats-leather, have gone upon my handy-work.

Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop today?

[streets? Why dost thou lead these men about the 2 Cit. Truly, Sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, Sir, we make holiday to see Cesar, and to rejoice in his triumph.

Mar. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home?

What tributaries follow him to Rome,
To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?
You blocks, you stones, you worse than sense-

less things!

O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,
Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft
Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements,
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,
Your infants in your arms, and there have sat
The live-long day, with patient expectation,
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome:
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made a universal shout,
That Tyber trembled underneath her banks,
To hear the replication of your sounds,
Made in her concave shores?
And do you now put on your best attire?
And do you now cull out a holiday?
And do you now strew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Be gone;

Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the gods to intermit the plague
That needs must light on this ingratitude.
Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this


Assemble all the poor men of your sort;*
Draw them to Tyber banks, and weep your
Into the channel, till the lowest stream [tears
Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.

See, whe'rt their basest metal be not mov'd;
They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness.
Go you down that way towards the Capitol;
This way will I: Disrobe the images,
If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.
Mar. May we do so?

You know, it is the feast of Lupercal.

Flav. It is no matter; let no images
Be hung with Cesar's trophies. I'll about,
And drive away the vulgar from the streets:
So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
These growing feathers pluck'd from Cesar's

Will make him fly an ordinary pitch;
Who else would soar above the view of men,
And keep us all in servile fearfulness.


SCENE II.-The same.-A public Place. Enter, in Procession, with Music, CESAR; ANTONY, for the course; CALPHURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and. CASCA, a great Crowd following, among them a SOOTHSAYER.

Ces. Calphurnia,


Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires;
I'll leave you.

Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late:
I have not from your eyes that gentleness,
And show of love, as I was wont to have:
You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand
Over your friend that loves you.

Bru. Cassius,

Be not deceiv'd: if I have veil'd my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself. Vexed I am,
Of late, with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself,
Which give some soil, perhaps, to my beha-
But let not therefore my good friends be
(Among which number, Cassius, be you one ;)
Nor construe any further my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the shows of love to other men.


Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion,*

By means whereof, this breast of mine hath

Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?
Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
But by reflection, by some other things.
Bru. No, Cassius: for the eye sees not itself,
Cas. 'Tis just:

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no such mirrors, as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
[Music ceases. Where many of the best respect in Rome,
That you might see your shadow. I have heard,

Casca. Peace, ho! Cesar speaks.

Ces. Calphurnia,—
Cal. Here, my lord.

Ces. Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his course.§-Antonius. Ant. Cesar, my lord.

Ces. Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calphurnia: for our elders say, The barren, touched in this holy chase, Shake off their steril curse.

Ant. I shall remember:

When Cesar says, Do this, it is perform'd.
Ces. Set on; and leave no ceremony out.
Sooth. Cesar.


Ces. Ha! who calls?
Casca. Bid every noise be still:-Peace yet
Ces. Who is it in the press, that calls on
[Music ceases.


I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,
Cry, Cesar: Speak; Cesar is turn'd to hear.
Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

Ces. What man is that!

Bru. A soothsayer, bids you beware the ides of March.

Ces. Set him before me, let me see his face. Cas. Fellow, come from the throng: Look upon Cesar.

Ces. What say'st thou to me now? Speak once again.

South. Beware the ides of March.

Ces. He is a dreamer: let us leave him ;


[Sennet. Exeunt all but BRU. and CAS. Cas. Will you g see the order of the course? Bru. Not I.

Cas. I pray you, ɔ.

Bru. I am not gamesome: I do lack some Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.

+ Whether.


* Rank.
Honorary ornaments; tokens of respect.
A ceremony observed at the feast of Lupercalia.
Flourish of instruments.

(Except immortal Cesar,) speaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me,

That you would have me seek into myself
For that which is not in me?

Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to

And, since you know you cannot see yourself
So well as by reflection, I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to yourself
That of yourself which you yet know not of.
And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus :
To stalet with ordinary oaths my love
Were I a common laugher, or did use
That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
To every new protester; if you know
And after scandal them; or if you know
That I profess myself in banqueting
To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.
[Flourish and shout.
Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear,
the people
Choose Cesar for their king.

Then must I think you would not have it so.
Cas. Ay, do you fear it?

Bru. I would not, Cassius; yet I love him


But wherefore do you hold me here so long?
If it be aught toward the general good,
What is it that you would impart to me?
Set honour in one eye, and death the other,
For, let the gods so speed me, as I love
And I will look on both indifferently:
The name of honour more than I fear death.

As well as I do know your outward favour.
Cas. I know that virtue to be in yon, Brutus,
Well, honour is the subject of my story.-
I cannot tell, what you and other men
Think of this life; but, for my single self,

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