The violent fit o'th' times craves it as phyfick
For the whole State, I'd put mine armour on,
Which I can scarcely bear.

Cor. What must I do?

Men. Return to th' Tribunes.

Cor. Well, what then? what then?

Men. Repent what you have spoke.

Cor. For them?—I cannot do it for the Gods, Muft I then do't to them?

Vol. You are too abfolute,

Tho' therein you can never be too noble,
But when Extremities fpeak. I've heard you say,
Honour and policy, like unfever'd Friends,

I'th' war do grow together: grant That, and tell me
In peace, what each of them by th' other loses,
That they combine not there?

Cor. Tush, tufh

Men. A good demand.

Vol. If it be honour in your wars, to feem
The fame you are not, which for your beft ends
You call your policy: how is't lefs, or worse,
That it fhall hold companionship in peace

With Honour, as in War; fince that to both
It ftands in like request?

Cor. Why force you this?

Vol. Because it lies on you to speak to th' People:
Not by your own inftruction, nor by th' matter
Which your heart prompts you to, but with fuch words
But roated in your tongue; baftards, and fyllables
Of no allowance, to your bofom's truth.
Now, this no more dishonours you at all,
Than to take in a Town with gentle words,
Which elfe would put you to your fortune, and
The hazard of much blood.

I would diffemble with my nature, where
My fortunes, and my friends at stake, requir'd,

So, in Julius Cæfar;

When he perceiv'd, the common Herd was glad be refus'd the Crown, &c.

And in many other Paffages,

I fhould

I should do fo in honour. (18) I am in this
Your Wife, your Son, thefe Senators, the Nobles.
will rather fhew our general lowts

And you

How you can frown, than spend a fawn upon 'em,
For the inheritance of their loves, and fafeguard
Of what that Want might ruin!

Men. Noble Lady!

Come, go with us, speak fair: you may falve fo
Not what is dangerous present, but the lofs
Of what is past.

Vol. I pr'ythee now, my Son,

Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand,

And thus far having ftretch'd it (here be with them)
Thy knee buffing the ftones; (for in fuch business
Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th' ignorant
More learned than the ears;) (19) waving thy head,

(18)

I'm in this

Your Wife, your Son: the Senators the Nobles,

And You, &c.] The Pointing of the printed Copies makes flark Nonfenfe of this Passage. Volumnia is perfuading Coriolanus that he ought to flatter the People, as the general Fortune was at Stake; and fays, that, in this Advice, She speaks as his Wife, as his Son; as the Senate, and Body of the Patri; who were in fome Measure link'd to his Conduct. Mr. Warburton.

cians

(19)

waving thy Head,

Which often, thus, correcting thy ftout Heart.] But do any of the Ancient, or Modern Mafters of Elocution prescribe the waving the Head, when they treat of Action? Or how does the waving the Head correct the Stoutnefs of the Heart, or evidence Humility? Or laftly, where is the Senfe or Grammar of thefe Words, Which often thus, &c? Thefe Questions are fufficient to shew the abfurd Corruption of thefe Lines. I would read therefore;

waving thy Hand,

Which foften thus, correcting thy fout Heart; This is a very proper Precept of Action fuiting the Occafion; Wave thy Hand, fays She, and foften the Action of it thus, then ftrike upon thy Breaft, and by that Action fhew the People thou haft corrected thy ftout Heart. All here is fine and proper. Mr. Warburton.

S 3

Which

Which foften, thus, correcting thy ftout heart,
Now humble as the ripeft Mulberry,

That will not hold the handling: or fay to them,
Thou art their Soldier, and, being bred in broils,
Haft not the foft way, which thou doft confefs
Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim,
In asking their good loves; but thou wilt frame
Thy felf (forfooth) hereafter theirs fo far,
As thou haft power and perfon.

Men. This but done,

Ev'n as the fpeaks, why, all their hearts were yours:
For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free,
As words to little purpose.

Vel. Pr'ythee now,

Go and be rul'd: altho', I know, thou'dft rather
Follow thine enemy in a fiery Gulf

Than flatter him in a bower.

Enter Cominius.

Here is Cominius.

Com. I've been i'th' Market-place, and, Sir, 'tis fit You have ftrong Party, or defend your felf

By calmnefs, or by abfence: all's in anger.

Men. Only, fair fpeech,

Com. I think, 'twill ferve, if he Can thereto frame his fpirit.

Vol. He muft and will:

Pr'ythee now, fay you will, and go about it.
Cor. Muft I go fhew them my unbarbed sconce?
Muft my bafe tongue give to my noble heart
A lie, that it muft bear? well, I will do't:
(20) Yet were there but this fingle Plot to lose,

(20) Yet were there but this fingle Plot, to lofe

This

This Mould of Marcius,] The Pointing of all the Impreffions fhews, the Editors did not understand this Paffage, What Plot is this, they are dreaming of, to lofe the Mould of Marcius? But Plot and Mould are but one and the fame Thing; and mean no more than the Flesh and Subftance of Marcius's Body. "Were there no other Confequences annex'd, fays

He,

This mould of Marcius, they to duft should grind it,
And throw't against the wind. To th' Market-place!
You've put me now to fuch a Part, which never
I fhall discharge to th' life.

Com. Come, come, we'll prompt you.

Vol. Ay, pr'ythee now, fweet Son; as thou haft faid, My praises made thee first a Soldier, fo,

To have my praife for this, perform a Part
Thou haft not done before.

Cor. Well, I must do't:

Away, my Difpofition, and poffefs me

Some Harlot's fpirit! my throat of war be turn'd,
Which quired with my drum, into a pipe
Small as an Eunuch, or the Virgin's voice
That Babies lulls afleep! the fmiles of Knaves
Tent in my cheeks, and fchool-boys' tears take up
The glaffes of my fight! a Beggar's tongue
Make motion through my lips, and my arm'd knees,
Which bow'd but in my firrup, bend like his
That hath receiv'd an alms!

I will not do't, -
Left I furçeafe to honour mine own truth,
And, by my body's action, teach my mind,
A moft inherent baseness.

Vol. At thy choice then:

To beg of thee, it is my more difhonour,
Than thou of them. Come all to ruin, let
Thy Mother rather feel thy pride, than fear
Thy dangerous floutness: for I mock at Death
With as big heart as thou. Do, as thou lift:
Thy valiantness was mine, thou fuck'ft it from me:
But own thy pride thy felf.

Cor. Pray, be content:

Mother, I'm going to th' Market-place:

Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves,

Cog their hearts from them, and come home belov'd Of all the Trades in Rome. Look, I am going: Commend me to my Wife. I'll return Conful,

"He, than the Deftruction of my Body, they should grind it

to Powder, &c.

Or never truft to what my tongue can do

I'th' way of flattery further.

Vol. Do your will.

[Exit Volumnia.

Com. Away, the Tribunes do attend you: arm Your felf to anfwer mildly: for they're prepar'd With accufations, as I hear, more strong

Than are upon you yet.

Cor. The word is, mildly.-Pray you, let us go. Let them accufe me by invention; I

Will answer in mine honour.

Men. Ay, but mildly.

Cor. Well, mildly be it then, mildly. [Exeunt.

Bru.

SCENE changes to the FORUM.

IN

Enter Sicinius and Brutus.

N this point charge him home, that he affects Tyrannic Power: if he evade us there, Inforce him with his envy to the People,

And that the Spoil, got on the Antiates,

Was ne'er diftributed. What, will he come?

Enter an Edile.

Ed. He's coming.

Bru. How accompanied ?

Ed. With old Menenius, and thofe Senators

That always favour'd him.

Sic. Have you a catalogue

Of all the voices that we have procur'd,

Set down by th' poll?

Ed. I have; 'tis ready, here.

Sic. Have you collected them by Tribes?
Ed. I have.

Sic. Affemble presently the People hither,

And, when they hear me fay, It shall be fo,

I'th' right and ftrength o'th' Commons; (be it either For Death, for Fine, or Banishment,) then let them If I fay Fine, cry Fine; if Death, cry Death; Infifting on the old Prerogative

And