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* At home, upon my brother's guard, even there, Against the hofpitable Canon, would I

Wafh my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to th' city; Learn how 'tis held; and what they are, that must Be hoftages for Rome.

I

Sol. Will not you go?

Auf. I am attended at the cypress grove.

pray you,

('Tis South the city mills) bring me word thither How the world goes, that to the pace of it

I may fpur on my journey.

Sol. I fhall, Sir.

[Exeunt.

ACT II. SCENE I.

ROM M E.

Enter Menenius, with Sicinius and Brutus.
MENENIUS.

HE Augur tells me, we fhall have news to

TH I night.

Bru. Good or bad?

Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius.

Sic. Nature teaches beafts to know their friends.

2

Men. Pray you, whom does the wolf love?
Sic. The lamb.

Men. Ay, to devour him, as the hungry Plebeians would the noble Marcius.

At home, upon my brother's guard, in my own houfe, with my brother pofted to protect him.

2

Pray you, &c.] When the tribune, in reply to Menenius's remark on the people's hate of

Coriolanus, had obferved that even beats know their friends, Menenius afks, auhom does the wolf love? Implying that there are beafts which love nobody, and that among thofe beafts are the people.

Bru.

Bru. He's a lamb, indeed, that baes like a bear. Men. He's a bear, indeed, that lives like a lamb. You are two old men, tell me one thing that I fhall

afk you.

Both. Well, Sir

Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor, that you two have not in abundance ?

Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but for'd with all.
Sic. Especially, in pride.

Bru. And topping all others in boasting.

Men. This is ftrange now.

Do you two know how you are cenfur'd here in the city, I mean of us o' th' right hand file? Do you?

Bru. Why,-how are we cenfur'd?

Men. Because you talk of pride now, will you not be angry?

Both. Well, well, Sir, well. ·

Men. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occafion will rob you of a great deal of patience. Give your difpofitions the reins, and be angry at your pleasures; at the leaft, if you take it as a pleafure to you, in being fo. You blame Marcius for being proud.

Bru. We do it not alone, Sir.

Men. I know, you can do very little alone; for your helps are many, or elfe your actions would grow wondrous fingle; your abilities are too infant-like, for doing much alone. You talk of pride-oh, that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior furvey of your good felves! Oh, that you could!

Bru. What then, Sir?

Men. Why, then you fhould difcover a brace of as

3 towards the napes of your necks,] With allufion to the fable, which fays, that every man has a bag hanging before him,

in which he puts his neighbour's faults, and another behind him, in which he ftows his own.

un

unmeriting, proud, violent, tefty magiftrates, alias, fools, as any in Rome.

Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough too.

4

Men. I am known to be a humorous Patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiler in't, faid to be fomething imperfect, in favouring the first complaint; hafty and tinder-like, upon too trivial motion; one that converfes more with the buttock of the night, than with the forehead of the morning. What I think, I utter; and fpend my malice in my breath. Meeting two fuch weals-men as you are, I cannot call you Lycurguffes, if the drink you give me touch my palate adverfly, I make a Crooked face at it. I can't fay, your Worships have delivered the matter well, when I find the afs in compound with the major part of your fyllables; and tho' I must be content to bear with thofe, that fay, you are reverend grave men; yet they lye deadly, that tell you, you have good faces. If you fee this in the map of my microcofin, follows it, that I am known well enough too? what harm can your biffon Confpectuities 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, yourfelves, nor any thing; you are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs you wear out a good wholefome forenoon, in hearing a Caufe between an orange-wife and a foffetfeller, and then adjourn a controverfy of three-pence to a fecond day of audience.-When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you chance to be pinch'd with the colick, you make faces like mummers,

4 one that converfes more, &c.] Rather a late lier down than an early rifer.

5 tion, blind, in the old copies, is lerfore, reftored by Mr. The bald.

6 you wear out a good, &c.] It appears from this whole fpeech that Shakespear miftook the cffice of Præfectus artis for the Tribune's office. WARD.

fet

7 fet up the bloody flag against all patience, and, in roaring for a chamber-pot, difmifs the controverfie bleeding, the more intangled by your hearing. All the peace you make in their caufe, is calling both the parties knaves. You are a pair of ftrange ones.

Bru. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter gyber of the table, than a neceffary bencher in the Capitol.

Men. Our very priests must become mockers, if they fhall encounter fuch ridiculous fubjects as you are. When you speak beft unto the purpofe, it is not worth the wagging of your beards; and your beards deferve not fo honourable a Grave, as to ftuff a botcher's cufhion, or to be intomb'd in an afs's pack-faddle. Yet you must be faying, Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap eftimation, is worth all your predeceffors, fince Deucalion; though, peradventure, fome of the best of them were hereditary hangmen. Good-e'en to your Worships; more of your converfation would infect my brain, being the herdsmen of beaftly Plebeians. I will be bold to take my leave of you.

[Brutus and Sicinius ftand afide.

SCENE II.

As Menenius is going cut, Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria.

How now my as fair as noble ladies, (and the moon, were the earthly, no nobler) whither do you follow your eyes fo faft?

Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches. For the love of Juno, let's go, Men. Ha! Marcius coming home?

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

Men. Take my Cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee— Hoo! Marcius coming home!

Both. 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 faw't.

Men. A letter for me! it gives me an estate of seven years health; in which time I will make a lip at the phyfician; the most fovereign prefcription in Galen is but empiric, and to this prefervative of no better report than a horfe-drench. Is he not wounded? He was wont to come home wounded,

Vir. Oh, no, no, no.

Vol. Oh, he is wounded; I thank the Gods for't. Men. So do I too, if he 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. Hath he difciplin'd Aufidius foundly?

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

Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him.

8 Take my CAP, Jupiter, and I thank thee-] Tho' Menenius is made a prater and a boon-companion, yet it was not the defign of the poet to have him prophane, and bid Jupiter take his cap. Shakespear's thought is very different from what his editors dream'd of. He wrote,

Take my CUP, Jupiter. i. e. I will go offer a Libation to thee, for this good news: which

was the custom of that time. There is a pleafantry, indeed, in his way of expreing it, very agreeable to his convivial character. But the editors, not knowing the ufe of this cup, alter'd it to cap. WARBURTON.

Shakespeare fo often mentions. throwing up caps in this play, that Menenius may be well enough fuppofed to throw up his cap in thanks to Jupiter,

that.

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