ThI't not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it,
Where Senators fhall mingle tears with fmiles;
Where great patricians fall attend and fhrug;
I' th' end, admire; where ladies fhall be frighted,
And gladly quaked, hear more; where the dull
Tribunes,

That with the fufty plebeians, hate thine honours,
Shall fay against their hearts,-- We thank the gods,
Our Rome hath fuch a foldier!

Yet cameft thou to a morfel of this feaft,
Having fully dined before.

Enter TITUS LARTIUS with his Power, from the purfuit.

Lart. O General,

Here is the feed, we the caparison:

Hadft thou beheld----

Mar. Pray now, no more: my mother, Who has a charter to extol her blood, When she does praise me, grieves me.

I have done as you have done; that's what I can; Induced, as you have been, that's for my country; He that has but effected his good will,

Hath overta'en mine act.

Com. You fhall not be

The grave of your deferving: Rome must know
The value of her own: 'twere a concealment
Worfe than a theft, no less than a traducement,
To hide your doings; and to filence that,
Which to the fpire and top of praises vouched,
Would feem but modeft: therefore, I befecch you,
In fign of what you are, not to reward

What you have done, before our army hear me.
Mar. I have fome wounds upon me, and they
To hear themselves remembered.
Com. Should they not,

[fmart

Well might they fefter againft ingratitude,
And tent themselves with death: of all the horfes,
Whereof we have ta'en good, and good ftore, of all
The treafure in the field atchieved, and city,
We render you the tenth, to be ta'en forth,
Before the common diftribution, at
Your only choice.

Mar. I thank you, General:

But cannot make my heart confent to take
A bribe to pay my fword: I do refuse it,
And ftand upon my common part with those
That have beheld the doing.

[A long flourish. They all cry, Marcius
Marcius! caft up their caps and launces: co-
MINIUS and LARTIUS ftand bare.

Mar. May thefe fame inftruments, which you profane, (10)

(10) May these fame inftruments, which you profane,
Never found more: when drums and trun pets shall
4. I' th' field prove flatterers, let courts and cities
Be made all of falfe-faced foothing.

When feel grows foft, as the parafite's filk,
Let him be made an overture for th' wars:
No more I fay; for that I have not washed
My ncfe that bled, or foiled fome debile wretch,
Which, without note, here's many elfe have done,

You fhout me forth in acclamations hyperbolical, &c.] Many of the verfes in this truly fine paffage are difmounted, unnumerous, and imperfect: and the laft is no less than two foot and a half too long. For this reafon I have ventured to tranfpofe them to their measure; and the fenfe, 'tis plain, has been no lefs maimed than the numbers. To remedy this part, I have had the affiftance of my ingenious friend Mr Warburton; and with the benefit of his happy conjectures, which I have inferted in the text, the whole, I hope, is restored to that punity which was quite loft in the corruptions. I thall now fubjoin his comment, in proof of the emendations. "The meaning that fenfe requires "in the antithefis evidently defigned here, is this: If one "change its ufual nature to a thing most oppofite, then lei

Never found more! when drums and trumpets shall
I' th' field prove flatterers, let camps, as cities,
Be made of falfe-faced foothing! when steel grows
Soft as the parafite's filk, let hymns be made
An overture for the wars! no more, I fay;
For that I have not washed my nofe that bled,
Or foiled fome debile wretch, which, without note,
Here's many elfe have done; you fhout me forth
In acclamations hyperbolical;

As if I loved my little fhould be dieted
In praifes fauced with lies.

Com. Too modeft are you:

More cruel to your good report, than grateful
To us that give you truly: by your patience,
If 'gainst yourself you be incenfed, we'll put you
(Like one that means his proper harm) in manacles;
Then reason fafely with you; therefore be it known,
As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius
Wears this war's garland: in token of the which,
My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him,

"the other do fo too. But courts and cities, being made all of fmooth-faced foothing, remain in their proper nature. "the fecond part of the fentence, the antithefis between feel and the parafite's filk does not indeed labour with "this abfurdity: but it labours with another equally bad,

and that is nonfenfe in the expreffion. The Poet's whole "thought feems to be this: If drums and trumpets change "their nature prepofterously, let camps do fo too. And in the "latter part of the fentence, the emendation feems to give a particular beauty to the expreffion. He had faid before, If drums and trumpets prove flatterers; now here, alluding to the lame thought, he fays, then let hymns, foft music defined to the praises of gods and heroes, be an over"ture for the ways. Where the overture is ufed with great "technical propriety.I fhould obferve one thing, that "the members of these two antithefes are confounded one. with another, which is a practice common with the best "authors and it is a figure the rhetoricians have found a name for.

With all his trim belonging; and from this time, For what he did before Corioli, call him,

With all th' applause and clamour of the host, Caius Marcius Coriolanus. Bear the addition nobly ever. [Flourish. Trumpets found, and Drums. Omnes. Caius Marcius Coriolanus!

Mar. I will go wath :

And when my face is fair, you fhall perceive
Whether I blush or no.

Howbeit, I thank you.

I mean to ftride your steed, and at all time
To undercreft your good addition,
To th' fairness of my power.

Com. So, to our tent:

Where, ere we do repofe us, we will write
To Rome of our fuccefs: you, Titus Lartius,
Must to Corioli back; fend us to Rome
The best, with whom we may articulate,
For their own good and ours.
Lart. I fhall, my Lord.

Mar. The Gods begin to mock me:
I, that but now refufed moft princely gifts,
Am bound to beg of my Lord General.
Com. Take't, 'tis yours: what is't?
Mar. I fometime lay here in Corioli,
At a poor man's houfe; he used me kindly.
He cried to me: I faw him prisoner:
But then Aufidius was within my view,
And wrath o'erwhelmed my pity: I request you
To give my poor hoft freedom.

Com. O, well begged!

Were he the butcher of my fon, he should
Be free as is the wind; deliver him, Titus.
Lart. Marcius, his name?

Mar. By Jupiter, forgot :-

I am weary; yea, my memory is tired:
Have we no wine here?

Com. Go we to our tent;

The blood upon your vifage dries; 'tis time
It fhould be looked to: come.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Camp of the Volfci.

A Flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS bloody, with two or three Soldiers.

Auf. The town is ta'en.

Sol. 'Twill be delivered back on good condition. Auf. Condition!

I would I were a Roman; for I cannot,

Being a Voscian, be that I am. Condition!
What good condition can a treaty find

I' th' part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius,
I have fought with thee, fo often haft thou beat me;
And would't do fo, I think, fhould we encounter
As often as we eat By th' elements,

If e'er again I meet him beard to beard,
He's mine, or I am his: mine emulation
Hath not that honour in't it had; for where
I thought to cruth him in an equal force,
True fword to fword, I'll potch at him fome way,
Or wrath or craft may get him.

Sol. He's the devil.

Auf. Bolder, tho' not fo fubtle; my valour poi-
With only fuffering ftain by him) for him [foned,
Shall fly out of itfelf: nor fleep, nor fanctuary,
Being naked, fick, nor fane, nor Capitol,
The prayers of priests, nor times of facrifice,
Embarkments all of fury, fhall lift up

Their rotten privilege and cuftom 'gainst
My hate to Marcius. Where I find him, were it
At home, upon my brother's guard, even there,
Against the hofpitable canon, would I

Walh my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to th' city;