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Vol. Oh, no more ; no more: You've 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 we fail in our request, the blame May hang upon your hardness; therefore hear us. : Cor. Aufidius, and you Volfcians, mark; for we'll Hear nought from Rome in private.-Your request?

Vol. Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment And state of bodies would bewray what life We've led fince thy exile. Think with thyself, How more unfortunate than all living women Are we come hither; since thy fight, which should Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with,

comforts, Constrains them weep, and fake with fear and Making the mother, wife, and child to see [forrow; The son, the husband, and the father tearing His country's bowels out: and to poor we, Thine enmity's most capital; thou barrest 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're bound ? together with thy vi&tory Whereto we're bound? Alack! or we must lose The country, our dear nurse; or else thy person, Our comfort in the country.

We inuft find An eminent calamity, though we had Our wish, which side should win. For either thou Muit, as a foreign recreant, be led With manacles along our streets; or else Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin, And bear the palm, for having bravely thed Thy wife and childrens blood. For myself, son, I purpose not to wait on fortune, 'till Thele wars determine: if I can't persuade thee

Rather to thew a noble grace to both parts
Than seek the end of one; thou shalt no fooaer
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.

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

Boy. He shall not tread on me:
I'll run away till I'm bigger, but then I'll fight.

Cor. Not of a woman's tenderness to be,
Requires, nor child, nor woman's face, to fee:
I've fat too long.

Vol. Nay, go not from us thus : If it were so, that our request did tend To save the Romans, thereby to destroy The Volscians whom you serve, you might condemn As poisonous of your honour. No; our fuit [us, Is, that you reconcile them: while the Volscians May say, this mercy we have shewed; the Romans, This we received; and each in either side Give the all-hail to thee, and cry, be blest Formaking up this peace! thou knoweit, great fon, The end of war's uncertain ; but this certain, That if thou conquer Rome, the benefit, Which thou shalt thereby reap, is such a name, Whose repetition will be dogged with curses: Whole chronicle thus writ, . The man was noble* But with his last attempt he wiped it out,

Destroyed his country, and his name remains To th'ensuing age abhorred. Speak to me, son: Thou hast affected the firit strains of honour, To imitate the graces of the gods; To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o'th' air, And yet to charge thy fulphur with a bolt, (40)

(40). And yet to change thy ful; hur with a bolt,


That should but rive an oak. Why doit not speak?
Thinkeit thou it honourable for a noble man
Still to remember wrongs? daughter, speak you :
He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy;
Perhaps thy childishness will move him more
Than can oar reasons. There's no man in the world.
More bound to’s mother, yet here he lets me prate-
Like one i' th' stocks. Thou'st never in thy life-
Shewed thy dear mother any courtefj;"
When she, (poor hen!) fond of no second brood,
Has clucked thee to the wars, and fafely home,
Loxden with honour. Say, my request's unjuit,
And spurn me back: but if it be not for
Thou art not honest, and the gods will plagne thee,
That thou reitraineit from me the duty which
To a mother's part belongs.--He turns away:
Down, Ladies ; let us shame him with our kneeso,
To's fir-name Coriolanus. 'longs more pride,

Than pity to our prayers. Down; and end;
This is the laft, So we will home to Rome,
And die among our neighbours: nay, behold usd.
This boy, that cannot tell what he would have,
But kneels, and holds up hands for fellowship,
Does reaion our petition with more strength
Than thou hast to deny't. Come, let us go :
This fellow had a Volscian to his mother: (41)

That should bui rive an ook.] All the priated copies concur in this reading, but I have certainly restored the true word. Vid. the fourteenth note on this play. (41) This fellow had a Volscian to his mother;; His wife is in Corioli, and his child

Like him by chance;-} But though his wife was in Corioli, might not his child, nevertheless, be like him? The minute alteration I have made, I am persuaded reitores, the true reading. Yolumnia would lint, that Coriolanus lvy his . frern behaviour had loft all family-regards, and did not sca


His wife is in Corioli, and this child
Like him by chance; yet give us our dispatch:
I'm hush'd, until our city be afire;
And then I'll speak a little.
Cor. O mother, mother!

[Holds her by the hands, flent. What have


done? behold, the heavens do ope, The gods lock down, and this unnatural scene They laugh at. Oh, my mother, mother! oh! You've won a happy victory to Rome: But for your son, believe it, oh, believe it, Most dangerously you have with bim prevailed, If not most mortal to him. Let it come:Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars, I'll framne convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius, Were



my stead, say, would you have heard A mother less? or granted.less, Aufidius... Aufe

, I too was moved. Cor. I dare be sworn you were; And, Sir, it is no little thing to make Mine eyes to sweat compaflion. But, good Sir, What peace you'll make, advise me: for my party, P'll not to Rome, I'll back with you, and pray you: Stand to me in this cause. O mother! wife !--duf. I'm glad thou'st set thy mercy and thy

honour At difference in thee; out of that I'}l work Myself a former fortune.

[ Afidea Cor. Ay, by and by; but we will drink together; And you shall bear

[To Vol. Virg. c. A better witness back than words, which we, On like conditions, will have counter-sealed.

member that he had any child. I am not his mother (says Dhe) lis wife is in Corioli, and this child, whom we bring with us (young Marcius) is not his child, but only bears his zefemblance by chance.

Come, enter with us: Ladies,


To have a temple built you: all the swords.
In Italy, and her confederate arms,
Could not have made this



SCENE, the Forum, in Rome.

Enter MENENIUS and SICINIUS. Men. See you yond coin o'th' capitol, yond corSic. Why, what of that?

[ner-stone? Men. If it be poflible 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 fentenced, and stay upon execution.

Sic. Ís't possible that so short a time can alter the condition of a man?

Men. There is difference 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 years old horse. The tartness of his face fours ripe grapes. When he walks, he moves like an engine, and the

ground thrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corset with his eye: talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He fits 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.

Sic. Yes, mercy, if you report himn truly.

Men. I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his mother shall bring from him; there is no more mercy in him, than there is milk in a male

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