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party, if

to bear with those that say you are reverend grave men; yet they lie deadly, that tell, you have good faces. If you see this in the map of my microcosm, follows it, that I am known well enough too? What harm can your bisson conspectuities? glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too? Bru. Come, sir, come, we know you well enough.

. Men. You know neither me, yourselves, nor any thing. You are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs;8 you wear out a good wholesome forenoon, in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and a fosset-seller; and then rejourn the controversy of three-pence to a second day of audience.When you are hearing a matter between party and

you chance to be pinched with the cholick, you make faces like mummers; set up the bloody flag against all patience; and, in roaring for a chamber-pot, dismiss the controversy bleeding, the more entangled by your hearing: all the peace you make in their cause, is, calling both the parties knaves: You are a pair of strange ones.

Bru. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table, than a necessary bencher in the Capitol.

Men. Our very priests must become mockers, if they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as you

When you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging of your beards; and

your beards deserve not so honourable a grave, as to stuff a botcher's cushion, or to be entombed in an ass's pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is

are.

S

bisson conspectuities,] Bisson, blind.

for poor knaves' caps and legs:] That is, for their obei. sance showed by bowing to you.

you wear out a good, &c.] It appears from this whole speech that Shakspeare mistook the office of præfectus urbis for the tribune's office.

proud; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors, since Deucalion; though, peradventure, some of the best of them were hereditary hangmen. Good e'en to your worships; more of your conversation would infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians: I will be bold to take my leave of you.

[Brutus and Sicinius retire to the back of

the Scene.

Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and Valeria, &c. How now, my as fair as noble ladies, and the moon, were she earthly, no nobler,) whither do

you follow your eyes so fast?

Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for the love of Juno, let's go.

Men. Ha! Marcius coming home?

Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosperous approbation.

Men. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee:Hoo! Marcius coming home!

Two Ladies. Nay, 'tis true.

Vol. Look, here's a letter from him; the state hath another, his wife another; and, I think, there's one at home for you.

Men. I will make my very house reel to-night: -A letter for me?

Vir. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw it.

Men. A letter for me? It gives me an estate of seven years' health; in which time I will make a lip at the physician: the most sovereign prescription in Galen is but empiricutick, and, to this preservative, of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded.

Vir. O, no, no, no.
Vol. O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't.

Men. So do I too, if it be not too much:Brings ’a victory in his pocket?—The wounds become him.

Vol. On's brows, Menenius: he comes the third time home with the oaken garland.

Men. Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly?

Vol. Titus Lartius writes,—they fought together, but Aufidius got off.

Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that: an he had staid by him, I would not have been so fidiused for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold that's in them. Is the senate possessed of this?

Vol. Good ladies, let's go:-Yes, yes, yes: the senate has letters from the general, wherein he gives my son the whole name of the war: he hath in this action outdone his former deeds doubly.

Val. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him. Men. Wondrous ?

ay,

I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing.

Vir. The gods grant them true!
Vol. True? pow, wow.

Men. True? I'll be sworn they are true:-Where is he wounded?-God save your good worships! [To the Tribunes, who come forward.] Marcius is coming home: he has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded ?

Vol. I'the shoulder, and i’ the left arm: There will be large cicatrices to show the people, when he shall stand for his place. He received in the repulse of Tarquin, seven hurts i' the body.

Men. One in the neck, and two in the thigh,there's nine that I know.

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s-possessed of this?] Possessed, in our author's language, is fully informed.

Vol. He had, before this last expedition, twentyfive wounds upon him.

Men. Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an eneiny's grave: [A Shout, and Flourish.] Hark! the trumpets.

Vol. These are the ushers of Marcius: before him He carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears; Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie; Which being advanc'd, declines;o and then men die.

A Sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter Cominius and

Titus LARTIUS; between them, CORIOLANUS, crowned with an oaken Garland; with Captains, Soldiers, and a Herald. Her. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight Within Corioli' gates: where he hath won, With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these In honour follows, Coriolanus: Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus !

[Flourish. All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!

Cor. No more of this, it does offend my heart; Pray now, no more. Com.

Look, sir, your mother, Cor.

0! You have, I know, petition'd all the gods For my prosperity.

[Kneels. Vol.

Nay, my good soldier, up;
My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and
By deed-achieving honour newly nam'd,
What is it? Coriolanus, must I call thee?
But O, thy wife-
Cor.

My gracious silence, hail! 6 Which being advanc'd, declines;] Volumnia, in her boasting strain, says, that her son to kill his enemy, has nothing to do but to lift his hand up and let it fall. JOHNSON.

My gracious silence, hail!) i. e. "My beauteous silence," or

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Would'st thou have laugh’d, had I come coffin'd

home,
That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah, my dear,
Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear,
And mothers that lack sons.
Men.

Now the gods crown thee! Cor. And live you yet?-O my sweet lady, pardon.

[To VALERIA. Vol. I know not where to turn:-0 welcome

home; And welcome, general ;-And you are welcome all. Men. A hundred thousand welcomes: I could

weep, And I could laugh; I am light, and heavy: Wel

come:

A curse begin at very root of his heart,
That is not glad to see thee!-You are three,
That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith of men,
We have some old crab-trees here at home, that

will not
Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors:
We call a nettle, but a nettle; and
The faults of fools, but folly.
Com.

Ever right.
Cor. Menenius, ever, ever.
Her. Give

way

there, and Cor.

Your hand, and yours:

[To his Wife and Mother. Ere in our own house I do shade my head, The good patricians must be visited; From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings, But with them change of honours. Vol.

I have lived To see inherited my very wishes,

go on.

my silent Grace.” Gracious seems to have had the same meaning formerly that graceful has at this day.

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