Ed. Very well.

Sic. Make them be ftrong, and ready for this hint, When we shall hap to give't them.

Bru. Go about it.

I

[Exit Adile. Put him to choler ftreight; he hath been us'd Ever to conquer, and to have his word

Of contradiction. Being once chaft, he cannot
Be rein'd again to temp'rance; then he fpeaks
What's in his heart; and That is there, which looks
With us to break his neck.

Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, and Cominius,
with others.

Sic. Well, here he comes.

Men. Calmly, I do beseech you.

Cor. Ay, as an hoftler, that for the pooreft piece

Will bear the Knave by th' volume:

Gods

The honour'd

Keep Rome in fafety, and the Chairs of Justice

Supply with worthy men, (30) plant love amongst you, Throng our large Temples with the fhews of peace, i And not our ftreets with war!

I Sen. Amen, amen.

Men. A noble with.

Enter the Edile with the Plebeians.

Sic. Draw near, ye People.

Ed. Lift to your Tribunes: audience Peace, I fay shoot a obrance Cor. First, hear the fpeak. Ved you: Both Tri. Well, fay peace, ho.

(30) plant Love among You ???? 'h Through our large Temples with the Shews of Peace,

And not our Streets with War] Though this be the Reading of all the Copies, it is flat Nonfenfe. There is no Verb either expreft, or underflood, that can govern the latter Part of the Sentence. I have no Doubt of my Emendation restoring the Text rightly, because Mr. Warburton ftarted the fame Conjecture, unknowing that I had meddled with the Paffage.

Cor

Cor. Shall I be charg'd no farther than this prefent? Must all determine here?

If

Sic. I do demand,

you fubmit you to the People's voices, Allow their Officers, and are content

To fuffer lawful Cenfure for fuch faults
As fhall be prov'd upon you?

Cor. I am content.

Men, Lo, Citizens, he fays, he is content;
The warlike fervice he has done, confider;

Think on the wounds his body bears, which fhew
Like Graves i'th' holy Church-yard.

Cor. Scratches with briars, fcars to move Laughter only,

Men. Confider further;

That when he speaks not like a Citizen,

You find him like a Soldier; (31) do not take
His rougher accents for malicious founds:

But, as I fay, fuch as become a Soldier,
Rather than envy, you

Com. Well, well, no more,

Cor. What is the matter,

That being paft for Conful with full voice,
I'm fo difhonour'd, that the very hour
You take it off again?

Sic. Anfwer to us.

Cor. Say then: 'tis true, I ought fo.

Sic. We charge you, that you have contriv'd to take From Rome all feafon'd Office, and to wind

Your felf unto a Power tyrannical,

For which you are a traitor to the People.

da not take g

(31) His rougher Actions for malicious Sounds] I have no manner of Apprehenfion how a Man's Actions can be mistaken for Words. It would be very abfurd, as well as extraordinary, were I to do a faucy Thing in Company, for the Perfon offended to tell me, Sir, you give me very impudent Language. This would be, certainly, taking Actions for Sounds: We may remember, a Roughness of Accent was one of Coriolanus's diftinguishing Characteristicks. I corrected this Paffage in the Appendix to my SHAKESPEARE Reftor'd, and Mr. Pope has embraced it in his laft Edition.

Cor. How? Traitor ? —

Men. Nay, temperately: your promise.

Cor. The fires i'th' loweft hell fold in the people!
Call me their traitor! thou injurious Tribune!
Within thine eyes fate twenty thoufand deaths,
In thy hands clutch'd as many millions, in
Thy lying tongue both numbers; I would fay,
Thou lieft, unto thee, with a voice as free,
As I do pray the Gods.

Sic. Mark you this, people?.

All. To th' Rock with him.
Sic. Peace:

We need not put new matter to his Charge:
What you have feen him do, and heard him speak,
Beating your Officers, curfing your felves,
Oppofing laws with ftroaks, and here defying
Those whofe great Power must try him, even this
So criminal, and in fuch capital kind,
Deferves th' extreameft death.

Bru. But fince he hath

Serv'd well for Rome

Cor. What do you prate of service?
Bru. I talk of That, that know it.

Cor. You?

Men. Is this the promife, that you made your Mother?

Com. Know, I pray you

Cor. I'll know no farther:4

Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death,
Vagabond exile, fleaing, pent to linger
But with a grain a-day, I would not buy
Their mercy at the price of one fair word;
Nor check my courage for what they can give,
To have't with faying, good morrow;}/ & won 5.1%, ă
Sic. For that he has

VIENO 08929 28 low as ..

(As much as in him dyes) from time to time

loir

Envy'd against the People; feeking means
To pluck away their Power; as now at laftaninib
Giv'n hoftile ftroaks, and that not in the prefence broth
Of dreaded juftice, but on the Minifters

That

That do diftribute it; in the Name o'th' People,
And in the Power of us the Tribunes, we
(Ev'n from this inftant) banish him pur City;
In peril of precipitation

From off the Rock Tarpeian, never more

To enter our Rome's Gates. I'th' People's Name,
I fay, it fhall be fo.

All. It fhall be fo, it fhall be fo; let him away;
He's banish'd, and it fhall be fo.

Com. Hear me, my Mafters, and my common Friends

Sic. He's fentenc'd: no more hearing.

Com. Let me fpeak:

(32) I have been Conful, and can fhew for Rome
Her Enemies Marks upon me. I do love

My Country's Good, with a refpect more tender,
More holy, and profound, than mine own life,
My dear Wife's estimate, her womb's increase,
And treasure of my loins: then if I would
Speak that

Sic. We know your drift. Speak what?

Bru. There's no more to be faid, but he is banifh'd As enemy to the People, and his Country,

It fhall be fo.

All. It fhall be fo, it fhall be fo..

Cor. You common cry of curs, whofe breath I hate, As reek o'th' rotten fenns; whofe loves I prize, As the dead carkaffes of unburied men, That do corrupt my air: I banish you. And here remain with your uncertainty; Let every feeble rumour thake your hearts;

(32) I have been Conful, and can hew from Rome

Her Enemies Marks upon me?] How, from Rome? Did he receive hoftile Marks from his own Country? No fuch Thing: He receiv'd them in the Service of Rome. So, twice in the Beginning of next Act, it is faid of Coriolanus ;

Had' Thou Foxfhip

To banish him, that ftruck more Blows for Rome,
Than Thou hast Spoken Words?

And again;

Good Man! the Wounds that he does bear for Rome!

Your

Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,
Fan you into Despair: have the Power still
To banish your Defenders, till at length,
Your ignorance (which finds not, till it feels;
Making but reservation of your felves
Still your own enemies) deliver you,

As most abated captives, to fome Nation
That won you without blows. Despifing then
For you, the City, thus I turn my back:
There is a world elsewhere

[Exeunt Coriolanus, Cominius, and others. [The people fhout, and throw up their caps. Edile. The people's enemy is gone, is gone! All. Our enemy is banish'd; he is gone! Hoo!

hoo!

Sic. Go fee him out at gates, and follow him As he hath follow'd you; with all defpight Give him deferv'd vexation, Let a Guard Attend us through the City.TE

All. Come, come; let's fee him out at the gates;