On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. - Rome. A publick Place. The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes, Men. I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia A city full; of tribunes, such as you, A sea and land full: You have pray'd well today; Men. See you yond' coign o'the Capitol; yond' This morning, for ten thousand of your throats corner-stone? I'd not have given a doit. Sic. Why, what of that? 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 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. 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 treading. 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 made 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. Mark what Sic. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly. Men. I paint him in the character. 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 thein: and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us. Hark, how they joy! [Shouting and musick. Sic. First, the gods bless you for their tidings: SCENE V. - Antium. A publick Place. [Exeunt Attendants. Enter Three or Four Conspirators of Aufidius' faction. Most welcome! 1 Con. How is it with our general? Even so, 2 Con. Most noble sir, Sir, I cannot tell; 3 Con. The people will remain uncertain, whilst By lack of stooping, A f 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 way 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 designments In mine own person; holp to reap the fame, Which he did end all his; and took some pride To do myself this wrong: till, at the last, I seem'd his follower, not partner; and He wag'd me with his countenance, as if I had been mercenary. 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. Here come the lords. Say no more; I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name You lords and heads of the state, perfidiously Hear'st thou, Mars? Auf Name not the god, thou boy of tears, Cor. Auf. No more. Ha! Peace, both, and hear me speak. Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volces; men and lads, Stain all your edges on me. — - Boy! False hound! 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? [Several speak at once. Con. Let him die for't. Cit. [Speaking promiscuously.] Tear him to pieces, do it presently. He killed my son; — my daughter; - He killed my cousin Marcus; He killed my father. 2 Lord. Peace, ho; - no outrage; The man is noble, and his fame folds in This orb o'the earth. His last offence to us Stand, Aufidius, Shall have judicious hearing. And trouble not the peace. Cor. O, that I had him, With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, Insolent villain ! Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him. [AUFIDIUS and the Conspirators draw, and kill CORIOLANUS, who falls, and AUFIDIUS stands on him. SCENE, — during a great part of the Play, at Rome; afterwards at SARDIS; and near PHILIPPI. ACT I. 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, Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule? 2 Cit. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobler. Mar. But what trade art thou? directly. Answer me 2 Cit. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soals. 2 Cit. Why, sir, cobble you. Flav. Thou art a cobler, art thou? 2 Cit. Truly, sir, all that I live by is, with the awl: I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's matters, but with awl. am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neats-leather, have gone upon my handywork. Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets? 2 Cit. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday, to see Cæsar, 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 senseless things! O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, Mar. What trade, thou knave, thou naughty Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft knave, what trade? 2 Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you. Mar. What meanest thou by that? thou saucy fellow? 705 Mend me, Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements, And when you saw his chariot but appear, And do you now put on your best attire? Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault, Assemble all the poor men of your sort; [Exeunt Citizens. : You know, it is the feast of Lupercal. Flav. It is no matter; let no images Be hung with Cæsar'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 Cæsar's wing, Will make him fly an ordinary pitch; Who else would soar above the view of men, And keep us all in servile fearfulness. Eunt. A puplic Plaec, SCENE II. The same. Enter, in procession, with musick, CÆSAR; ANTONY, for the course; CALPHURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and CASCA, a great croud following; among them a Soothsayer. Cæs. Calphurnia, Casca. Cæs. Cal. Here, my lord. Peace, ho! Cæsar speaks. [Musick ceases. Calphurnia, [Musick. Cas. Fellow, come from the throng: Look upon Cæsar. Ces. What say'st thou to me now? Speak once again. Sooth. Beware the ides of March. Cæs. He is a dreamer; let us leave him ; — pass. [Senet. Exeunt all but BRU. and CAS. Cas. Will you go see the order of the course? Bru. Not I. Cas. I pray you, do. Bru. I am not gamesome: I do lack some part Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late : Bru. Cassius, Of late, with passions of some difference, Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviours: Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war, . Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion; By means whereof, this breast of mine hath buried That you would have me seek into myself Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear: That of yourself which you yet know not of. [Flourish, and sun. Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear, the people Choose Cesar for their king. Cas. Ay, do you fear it? Then must I think you would not have it so. |