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1 Serv. Ay, and for an assault too.
Enter a third Servant.
3 Serv. O, slaves! I can tell you news; news, you
Both. What, what, what? let's partake.
Serv. I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as lieve be a condemn'd man.
Both. Wherefore wherefore?
3 Serv. Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our general, Caius Marcius.
1 Serv. Why do you say, thwack our general ?
3 Serv. I do not say, thwack our general; but he was always good enough for him.
3 Serv. Come, we are fellows, and friends: he was ever too hard for him; I have heard him say so himself.
1 Serv. He was too hard for him directly, to say the troth on't: before Corioli, he scotch'd him and notch'd him like a carbonado.
2 Serv. An he had been cannibally given, he might have broil'd and eaten him too.
1 Serv. But, more of thy news?
3 Serv. Why, he is so made on here within, as if he were son and heir to Mars: set at upper end o' the table: no question ask'd him by any of the senators, but they stand bald before him: Our general himself makes a mistress of him; sanctifies himself with's hand, and turns up the white o' the eye to his discourse. But the bottom of the news is, our general Kiij
is cut i' the middle, and but one half of what he was yesterday: for the other has half, by the entreaty and grant of the whole table. He will go, he says, and sowle the porter of Rome gates by the ears: He will mow down all before him, and leave his passage poll'd.
2 Serv. And he's as like to do't, as any man I can imagine.
3 Serv. Do't? he will do't: For, look you, sir, he has as many friends as enemies; which friends, sir (as it were), durst not (look you, sir) shew themselves (as we term it) his friends, whilst he's in directitude. 1 Serv. Directitude! What's that?
3 Serv. But when they shall see, sir, his crest up again, and the man in blood, they will out of their burrows, like conies after rain, and revel all with him.
1 Serv. But when goes this forward ?
3 Serv. To-morrow; to-day; presently. You shall have the drum struck up this afternoon : 'tis, as it were, a parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips.
2 Serv. Why, then we shall have a stirring world again. This peace is nothing, but to rust iron, increase tailors, and breed ballad-makers.
1 Serv. Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace, as far as day does night; it's sprightly, waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; mull'd, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more bastard children, than war's a destroyer of
453 2 Serv.
2 Serv. 'Tis so and as war, in some sort, may be said to be a ravisher; so it cannot be denied, but peace is a great maker of cuckolds.
1 Serv. Ay, and it makes men hate one another.
3 Serv. Reason; because they then less need one another. The wars, for my money. I hope to see Romans as cheap as Volsces.-They are rising, they are rising.
All. In, in, in, in.
A publick Place in Rome. Enter SICINIUS, and BRUTUS.
Sic. We hear not of him, neither need we fear him; His remedies are tame i' the present peace
And quietness o' the people, which before
Were in wild hurry. Here do we make his friends
Bru. We stood to't in good time. Is this Menenius? Sic. 'Tis he, 'tis he! O, he is grown most kind Of late.-Hail, sir!
Men. Hail to you both!
Sic. Your Coriolanus is not much miss'd,
But with his friends: the common-wealth doth stand And so would do, were he more angry at it.
Men. All's well; and might have been much better, if
He could have temporiz`d.
Sic. Where is he, hear you?
Men. Nay, I hear nothing; his mother and his
Hear nothing from him.
Enter three or four Citizens.
All. The gods preserve you both!
Sic. Good-e'en, our neighbours.
Bru. Good-e'en to you all, good-e'en to you all.
1 Cit. Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our
Bru. Farewel, kind neighbours! We wish'd Co
Sic. This is a happier and more comely time,
Than when these fellows ran about the streets,
Bru. Caius Marcius was
A worthy officer i' the war; but insolent,
Sic. And affecting one sole throne,
Men. I think not so.
Sic. We had by this, to all our lamentation,
Bru. The gods have well prevented it, and Rome Sits safe and still without him.
Edile. Worthy tribunes,
There is a slave, whom we have put in prison,
And with the deepest malice of the war
Destroy what lies before 'em.
Men. 'Tis Aufidius,
Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishment,
Which were in-shell'd, when Marcius stood for
And durst not once peep out
Sic. Come, what talk you of Marcius?
Bru. Go see this rumourer whipp'd.-It cannot be, The Volsces dare break with us.
Men. Cannot be!
We have record that
very well it can ;