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Cor.

Like a dull actor now,
I have forgot my part, and I am out,
Even to a full disgrace.1 Best of my flesh,
Forgive my tyranny; but do not say,

For that, Forgive our Romans.—O, a kiss
Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge!
Now by the jealous queen of heaven,2 that kiss
I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip
Hath virgin'd it e'er since.-You gods! I prate,3
And the most noble mother of the world

Leave unsaluted: Sink, my knee, i' the earth; [Kneels. Of thy deep duty more impression show

Than that of common sons.

Vol.
O, stand up bless'd!
Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint,
I kneel before thee: and unproperly

Show duty, as mistaken all the while
Between the child and parent.

[Kneels.

What is this?

Cor.
Your knees to me? to your corrected son?
Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach

positions. She lays hold on the word eyes, to turn his attention on their present appearance. Johnson.

1 Cor. Like a dull actor now,

I have forgot my part, and I am out,

Even to a full disgrace.] So, in our author's 23d Sonnet:
"As an unperfect actor on the stage,

"Who with his fear is put beside his part,- "Malone.

2 Now by the jealous queen of heaven,] That is, by Juno, the guardian of marriage, and consequently the avenger of connubial perfidy. Johnson.

3

I prate,] The old copy-I pray. The merit of the alteration is Mr. Theobald's. So, in Othello: “I prattle out of fashion.”

Steevens.

4 on the hungry beach - I once idly conjectured that our author wrote the angry beach. Malone.

The hungry beach is the sterile unprolifick beach. Every writer on husbandry speaks of hungry soil, and hungry gravel; and what is more barren than the sands on the sea shore? If it be necessary to seek for a more recondite meaning,-the shore, on which vessels are stranded, is as hungry for shipwrecks, as the waves that cast them on the shore. Littus avarum. Shakspeare, on this occasion, meant to represent the beach as a mean, and not as a magnificent object. Steevens.

The beach hungry, or eager, for shipwrecks. Such, I think, is the meaning. So, in Twelfth Night:

66

mine is all as hungry as the sea." Malone.

Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds
Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun;
Murd'ring impossibility, to make

What cannot be, slight work.

Vol.

Thou art my warrior;

I holp to frame thee.5 Do you know this lady?
Cor. The noble sister of Publicola,6

The moon of Rome; chaste, as the icicle,7
That 's curded by the frost from purest snow,

5 I holp to frame thee] Old copy-hope. Corrected by Mr. Pope. This is one of many instances, in which corruptions have arisen from the transcriber's ear deceiving him. Malone.

The noble sister of Publicola,] Valeria, methinks, should not have been brought only to fill up the procession without speaking. Johnson.

It is not improbable, but that the poet designed the following words of Volumnia for Valeria. Names are not unfrequently confounded by the player-editors; and the lines that compose this speech might be given to the sister of Publicola without impropriety. It may be added, that though the scheme to solicit Coriolanus was originally proposed by Valeria, yet Plutarch has allotted her no address when she appears with his wife and mother on this occasion. Steevens.

7 chaste as the icicle, &c.] I cannot forbear to cite the following beautiful passage from Shirley's Gentleman of Venice, in which the praise of a lady's chastity is likewise attempted: 66 - thou art chaste

"As the white down of heaven, whose feathers play

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Upon the wings of a cold winter's gale,

"Trembling with fear to touch th' impurer earth." Some Roman lady of the name of Valeria, was one of the great examples of chastity held out by writers of the middle age. So, in The Dialoges of Creatures moralysed, bl. 1. no date: "The secounde was called Valeria: and when inquysicion was made of her for what cawse she toke notte the secounde husbonde, she sayde" &c. Hence perhaps Shakspeare's extravagant praise of her namesake's chastity. Steevens.

Mr. Pope and all the subsequent editors read-curdled; but curdied is the reading of the old copy, and was the phraseology of Shakspeare's time. So, in All's Well that Ends Well: "I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's mood." We should now write mudded, to express begrimed, polluted with mud.

Again, in Cymbeline:

"That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him." Malone. I believe, both curdied, muddied, &c. are mere false spellings of curded, mudded, &c. Mudded is spelt, as at present, in The Tempest, first folio, p. 13, col. 2, three lines from the bottom; and so is crafted, in Coriolanus, first fol. p. 24, col. 2. Steevens.

And hangs on Dian's temple: Dear Valeria!
Vol. This is a poor epitome of yours,8
Which by the interpretation of full time
May show like all yourself.

Cor.

The god of soldiers, With the consent of supreme Jove, inform

Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou may'st prove To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' the wars

Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw,1

And saving those that eye thee!

Vol.

Cor. That's my brave boy.

Your knee, sirrah.

Vol. Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself, Are suitors to you.

Cor.

I beseech you, peace:
Or, if you'd ask, remember this before;

The things, I have forsworn to grant, may never
Be held by you denials. Do not bid me
Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate

Again with Rome's mechanicks:-Tell me not
Wherein I seem unnatural: Desire not
To allay my rages and revenges, with
Your colder reasons.

Vol.

O, no more, no more! You have said, you will not grant us any thing; For we have nothing else to ask, but that Which you deny already: Yet we will ask; That, if you fail in our request, the blame

8 epitome of yours,] I read:

epitome of you.

An epitome of you, which enlarged by the commentaries of time, may equal you in magnitude. Johnson.

Though Dr. Johnson's reading is more elegant, I have not the least suspicion here of any corruption. Malone.

9 With the consent of supreme Jove,] This is inserted with great decorum. Jupiter was the tutelary God of Rome. Warburton. 1 Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw,] That is, every gust, every storm. Johnson.

So, in our author's 116th Sonnet:

"O no! it is an ever-fixed mark,

"That looks on tempests, and is never shaken." Malone.

2 That, if you fail in our request,] That is, if you fail to grant us our request; if you are found failing or deficient in love to your country, and affection to your friends, when our request VOL. XIII.

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May hang upon your hardness: therefore hear us.
Cor. Aufidius, and you Volces, mark; for we 'll
Hear nought from Rome in private.-Your request?

Vol. Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment,3
And state of bodies would bewray what life
We have led since thy exíle. Think with thyself,
How more unfortunate than all living women
Are we come hither: since that thy sight, which should
Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts,
Constrains them weep, and shake4 with fear and sorrow;

shall have been made to you, the blame, &c. Mr. Pope, who altered every phrase that was not conformable to modern phraseology, changed you to we; and his alteration has been adopted in all the subsequent editions. Malone.

3 Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment, &c.] "The speeches copied from Plutarch in Coriolanus, may (says Mr. Pope) be as well made an instance of the learning of Shakspeare, as those copied from Cicero, in Catiline, of Ben Jonson's." Let us inquire into this matter, and transcribe a speech for a specimen. Take the famous one of Volumnia; for our author has done little more, than throw the very words of North into blank verse.

"If we helde our peace (my sonne) and determined not to speake, the state of our poore bodies, and present sight of our rayment, would easely bewray to thee what life we haue led at home, since thy exile and abode abroad. But thinke now with thy selfe, howe much more unfortunately than all the women liuinge we are come hether, considering that the sight which should be most pleasaunt to all other to beholde, spitefull fortune hath made most fearful to us: making my selfe to see my sonne, and my daughter here, her husband, besieging the walles of his natiue countrie. So as that which is the only comfort to all other in their adversitie and miserie, to pray unto the goddes, and to call to them for aide, is the onely thinge which plongeth us into most deep perplexitie. For we cannot (alas) together pray, both for victorie, for our countrie, and for safety of thy life also: but a worlde of grievous curses, yea more than any mortall enemie can heape uppon us, are forcibly wrapt up in our prayers. For the bitter soppe of most hard choyce is offered thy wife and children, to forgoe the one of the two: either to lose the persone of thy selfe, or the nurse of their natiue countrie. For my selfe (my sonne) I am determined not to turrie, till fortune in my life doe make an ende of this warre. For if I cannot persuade thee, rather to doe good unto both parties, than to ouerthrowe and destroye the one, preferring loue and nature before the malice and calamite of warres; thou shalt sce, my sonne, and trust unto it, thou shalt no soner marche forward to assault thy countrie, but thy foote shall tread upon thy mother's wonibe, that brought thee first into this world." Farmer.

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'st 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 are bound; together with thy victory,
Whereto we are bound? Alack! or we must lose
The country, our dear nurse; or else thy person,
Our comfort in the country. We must find
An evident calamity, though we had

Our wish, which side should win: for either thou
Must, as a foreign recreant, be led

With manacles thorough our streets; or else
Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin;
And bear the palm, for having bravely shed
Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son,
I purpose not to wait on fortune, till

These wars determine:5 if I cannot persuade thee
Rather to show a noble grace to both parts,

Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner
March to assault thy country, than to tread

(Trust to 't, thou shalt not,) on thy mother's womb,
That brought thee to this world.

Vir.

Ay, and on mine, That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name Living to time.

Boy.

He shall not tread on me;

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I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I 'll fight.
Cor. Not of a woman's tenderness to be,
Requires nor child nor woman's face to see.
I have sat too long.

Vol.
If it were so, that our request did tend

Nay, go not from us thus.

To save the Romans, thereby to destroy

[Rising.

* Constrains them weep, and shake-] That is, constrains the eye to weep, and the heart to shake. Johnson.

5 These wars determine:] i. e. conclude, end. So, in King Henry IV, P. II :

6

"Till thy friend sickness have determin'd me." Steevens.

and on mine,] On was supplied by some former editor, to complete the measure. Steevens.

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