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[Scene I.]

Enter Menenius with the two Tribunes of the

people, Sicinius & Brutus.

The Agurer tels me, wee ſhall haue Newes to

Good or bad?

Not according to the prayer of the people, for
they loue not Martius.

Nature teaches Beaſts to know their Friends.

Pray you, who does the Wolfe loue?

The Lambe.

I, to deuour him, as the hungry Plebeians would
the Noble Martius.

He's a Lambe indeed, that baes like a Beare.

Hee's a Beare indeede, that liues like a Lambe.
You two are old men, tell me one thing that I ſhall aske

Well ſir.

In what enormity is Martius poore in, that you
two haue not in abundance?

He's poore in no one fault, but ſtor'd withall.

Eſpecially in Pride.

And topping all others in boaſting.

This is ſtrange now: Do you two know, how
you are cenſured heere in the City, I mean of vs a'th'right
hand File, do you?

Why? ho ware we cenſur'd?

Becauſe you talke of Pride now, will you not
be angry.

Well, well ſir, well.

Why 'tis no great matter: for a very little theefe
of Occaſion, will rob you of a great deale of Patience:
Giue your diſpoſitions the reines, and bee angry at your
pleaſures (at the leaſt) if you take it as a pleaſure to you, in
being ſo: you blame Martius for being proud.

We do it not alone, ſir.

I know you can doe very little alone, for your
helpes are many, or elſe your actions would growe won-
drous ſingle: your abilities are to Infant-like, for dooing
much alone. You talke of Pride: Oh, that you could turn
your eyes toward the Napes of your neckes, and make
but an Interiour ſuruey of your good ſelues. Oh that you

What then ſir?

Why then you ſhould diſcouer a brace of vn-
meriting, proud, violent, teſtie Magiſtrates (alias Fooles)
as any in Rome.

Menenius, you are knowne well enough too.

I am knowne to be a humorous Patritian, and
one that loues a cup of hot Wine, with not a drop of alay-
ing Tiber in't: Said, to be ſomething imperfect in fauou-
ring the firſt complaint, haſty and Tinder-like vppon, to
triuiall motion: One, that conuerfes more with the But-
tocke of the night, then with the forhead of the morning.
What I think, I vtter, and ſpend my malice in my breath.
Meeting two ſuch Weales men as you are (I cannot call
you Licurguſſes, if the drinke you giue me, touch my Pa-
lat aduerſly, I make a crooked face at it, I can ſay, your
Worſhippes haue deliuer'd the matter well, when I finde
the Aſſe in compound, with the Maior part of your ſylla-
bles. And though I muſt be content to beare with thoſe,
that ſay you are reuerend graue men, yet they lye deadly,
that tell you haue good faces, if you ſee this in the Map
of my Microcoſme, followes it that I am knowne well e-
nough too? What harme can your beeſome Conſpectui-
ties gleane out of this Charracter, if I be knowne well e-
nough too.

Come ſir come, we know you well enough.

You know neither mee, your ſelues, nor any
thing: you are ambitious, for poore knaues cappes and
legges: you weare out a good wholeſome Forenoone, in
hearing a cauſe betweene an Orendge wife, and a Forſet-
ſeller, and then reiourne the Controuerſie of three-pence
to a ſecond day of Audience. When you are hearing a
matter betweene party and party, if you chaunce to bee
pinch'd with the Collicke, you make faces like Mum-
mers, ſet vp the bloodie Flagge againſt all Patience, and
in roaring for a Chamber-pot, diſmiſſe the Controuerſie
bleeding, the more intangled by your hearing: All the
peace you make in their Cauſe, is calling both the parties
Knaues. You are a payre of ſtrange ones.

Come, come, you are well vnderſtood to bee a
perfecter gyber for the Table, then a neceſſary Bencher in
the Capitoll.

Our very Prieſts muſt become Mockers, if they
ſhall encounter ſuch ridiculous Subiects as you are, when
you ſpeake beſt vnto the purpoſe. It is not woorth the
wagging of your Beards, and your Beards deſerue not ſo
honourable a graue, as to ſtuſſe a Botchers Cuſhion, or to
be intomb'd in an Aſſes Packe-ſaddle; yet you muſt bee
ſaying, Martius is proud: who in a cheape eſtimation, is
worth all your predeceſſors, ſince Deucalion, though per-
aduenture ſome of the beſt of 'em were hereditarie hang-
men. Godden to your Worſhips, more of your conuer-
ſation would infect my Braine, being the Heardſmen of
the Beaſtly Plebeans. I will be bold to take my leaue of
Bru. and Scic. Aſide.
Enter Volumina, Virgilia, and Valeria.
How now (my as faire as Noble) Ladyes, and the Moone
were ſhee Earthly, no Nobler; whither doe you follow
your Eyes ſo faſt?

Honorable Menenius, my Boy Martius appro-
ches: for the loue of Iuno let's goe.

Ha? Martius comming home?

I, worthy Menenius, and with moſt proſperous

Take my Cappe Iupiter, and I thanke thee:
hoo, Martius comming home?

2. Ladies.
Nay, 'tis true.

Looke, here's a Letter from him, the State hath
another, his Wife another, and (I thinke) there's one at
home for you.

I will make my very houſe reele to night:
A Letter for me?

Yes certaine, there's a Letter for you, I ſaw't.

A Letter for me? it giues me an Eſtate of ſe-
uen yeeres health; in which time, I will make a Lippe at
the Phyſician: The moſt ſoueraigne Preſcription in Galen,
is but Emperickqutique; and to this Preſeruatiue, of no
better report then a Horſe-drench. Is he not wounded?
he was wont to come home wounded?

Oh no, no, no.

Oh, he is wounded, I thanke the Gods for't.

So doe I too, if it be not too much: brings a
Victorie in his Pocket? the wounds become him.

On's Browes: Menenius, hee comes the third
time home with the Oaken Garland.

Ha's he diſciplin'd Auffidius ſoundly?

Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but
Auffidius got off.

And 'twas time for him too, Ile warrant him
that: and he had ſtay'd by him, I would not haue been ſo
fiddious'd, for all the Cheſts in Carioles, and the Gold
that's in them. Is the Senate poſſeſt of this?

Good Ladies let's goe. Yes, yes, yes: The
Senate ha's Letters from the Generall, wherein hee giues
my Sonne the whole Name of the Warre: he hath in this
action out-done his former deeds doubly.

In troth, there's wondrous things ſpoke of him.

Wondrous: I, I warrant you, and not with-
out his true purchaſing.

The Gods graunt them true.

True? pow waw.

True? Ile be ſworne they are true: where is
hee wounded, God ſaue your good Worſhips? Martius
is comming home: hee ha's more cauſe to be prowd:
where is he wounded?

Ith'Shoulder, and ith'left Arme: there will be
large Cicatrices to ſhew the People, when hee ſhall ſtand
for his place: he receiued in the repulſe of Tarquin ſeuen
hurts ith' Body.

One ith'Neck, and two ith'Thigh, there's nine
that I know.

Hee had, before this laſt Expedition, twentie
fiue Wounds vpon him.

Now it's twentie ſeuen; euery gaſh was an
Enemies Graue. Hearke, the Trumpets.
A ſhowt, and flouriſh.

Theſe are the Vſhers of Martius:
Before him, hee carryes Noyſe;
And behinde him, hee leaues Teares:
Death, that darke Spirit, in's neruie Arme doth lye,
Which being aduanc'd, declines, and then men dye.
A Sennet. Trumpets ſound.
Enter Cominius the Generall, and Titus Latius: be-
tweene them Coriolanus, crown'd with an Oaken
Garland, with Captaines and Soul-
diers, and a Herauld.

Know Rome, that all alone Martius did fight
Within Corioles Gates: where he hath wonne,
With Fame, a Name to Martius Caius:
Theſe in honor followes Martius Caius Coriolanus.
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus.
Sound. Flouriſh.

Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus.

No more of this, it does offend my heart: pray
now no more.

Looke, Sir, your Mother.

Oh! you haue, I know, petition'd all the Gods
for my proſperitie. Kneeles.

Nay, my good Souldier, vp:
My gentle Martius, worthy Caius,
And by deed-atchieuing Honor newly nam'd,
What is it (Coriolanus) muſt I call thee?
But oh, thy Wife.

My gracious ſilence, hayle:
Would'ſt thou haue laugh'd, had I come Coffin'd home,
That weep'ſt to ſee me triumph? Ah my deare,
Such eyes the Widowes in Carioles were,
And Mothers that lacke Sonnes.

Now the Gods Crowne thee.

And liue you yet? Oh my ſweet Lady, pardon.

I know not where to turne.
Oh welcome home: and welcome Generall,
And y'are welcome all.

A hundred thouſand Welcomes:
I could weepe, and I could laugh,
I am light, and heauie; welcome:
A Curſe begin at very root on's heart,
That is not glad to ſee thee.
Yon are three, that Rome ſhould dote on:
Yet by the faith of men, we haue
Some old Crab-trees here at home,
That will not be grafted to your Ralliſh.
Yet welcome Warriors:
Wee call a Nettle, but a Nettle;
And the faults of fooles, but folly.

Euer right.

Menenius, euer, euer.

Giue way there, and goe on.

Your Hand, and yours?
Ere in our owne houſe I doe ſhade my Head,
The good Patricians muſt be viſited,
From whom I haue receiu'd not onely greetings,
But with them, change of Honors.

I haue liued,
To ſee inherited my very Wiſhes,
And the Buildings of my Fancie:
Onely there's one thing wanting,
Which (I doubt not) but our Rome
Will caſt vpon thee.

Know, good Mother,
I had rather be their ſeruant in my way,
Then ſway with them in theirs.

On, to the Capitall. Flouriſh. Cornets.
Exeunt in State, as before.
Enter Brutus and Scicinius.

All tongues ſpeake of him, and the bleared ſights
Are ſpectacled to ſee him. Your pratling Nurſe
Into a rapture lets her Baby crie,
While ſhe chats him: the Kitchin Malkin pinnes
Her richeſt Lockram 'bout her reechie necke,
Clambring the Walls to eye him:
Stalls, Bulkes, Windowes, are ſmother'd vp,
Leades fill'd, and Ridges hors'd
With variable Complexions; all agreeing
In earneſtneſſe to ſee him: ſeld-ſhowne Flamins
Doe preſſe among the popular Throngs, and puffe
To winne a vulgar ſtation: our veyl'd Dames
Commit the Warre of White and Damaske
In their nicely gawded Cheekes, toth' wanton ſpoyle
Of Phœbus burning Kiſſes: ſuch a poother,
As if that whatſoeuer God, who leades him,
Were ſlyly crept into his humane powers,
And gaue him gracefull poſture.

On the ſuddaine, I warrant him Conſull.

Then our Office may, during his power, goe

He cannot temp'rately tranſport his Honors,
From where he ſhould begin, and end, but will
Loſe thoſe he hath wonne.

In that there's comfort.

Doubt not,
The Commoners, for whom we ſtand, but they
Vpon their ancient mallice, will forget
With the leaſt cauſe, theſe his new Honors,
Which that he will giue them, make l as little queſtion,
As he is prowd to doo't.

I heard him ſweare,
Were he to ſtand for Conſull, neuer would he
Appeare i'th'Market place, nor on him put
The Naples Veſture of Humilitie,
Nor ſhewing (as the manner is) his Wounds
Toth'People, begge their ſtinking Breaths.

'Tis right.

It was his word:
Oh he would miſſe it, rather then carry it,
But by the ſuite of the Gentry to him,
And the deſire of the Nobles.

I wiſh no better, then haue him hold that pur-
poſe, and to put it in execution.

'Tis moſt like he will.

It ſhall be to him then, as our good wills; a
fure deſtruction.

So it muſt fall out
To him, or our Authorities, for an end.
We muſt ſuggeſt the People, in what hatred
He ſtill hath held them: that to's power he would
Haue made them Mules, ſilenc'd their Pleaders,
And diſpropertied their Freedomes; holding them,
In humane Action, and Capacitie,
Of no more Soule, nor fitneſſe for the World,
Then Cammels in their Warre, who haue their Prouand
Onely for bearing Burthens, and ſore blowes
For ſinking vnder them.

This (as you ſay) ſuggeſted,
At ſome time, when his ſoaring Inſolence
Shall teach the People, which time ſhall not want,
If he be put vpon't, and that's as eaſie,
As to ſet Dogges on Sheepe, will be his fire
To kindle their dry Stubble: and their Blaze
Shall darken him for euer.
Enter a Meſſenger.

What's the matter?

You are ſent for to the Capitoll:
'Tis thought, that Martius ſhall be Conſull:
I haue ſeene the dumbe men throng to ſee him,
And the blind to heare him ſpeak: Matrons flong Gloues,
Ladies and Maids their Scarffes, and Handkerchers,
Vpon him as he paſs'd: the Nobles bended
As to Ioues Statue, and the Commons made
A Shower, and Thunder, with their Caps, and Showts:
I neuer ſaw the like.

Let's to the Capitoll,
And carry with vs Eares and Eyes for th'time,
But Hearts for the euent.

Haue with you. Exeunt.

load focus Notes (Horace Howard Furness, Jr., A. B.; Litt. D.)
load focus Notes (Horace Howard Furness, Jr., A. B.; Litt. D.)
load focus English (W. G. Clark, W. Aldis Wright)
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