Than when I parted hence, but ftill fubfifting The gates of Rome. Our fpoils, we have brought home, Do more than counterpoife, a full third part, The charges of the action. With no less honour to the We've made peace Than fhame to th' Romans: and we here deliver, Auf. Read it not, noble lords, But tell the traitor, in the highest degree Cor. Traitor!-how now! Cor. Marcius! Auf. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius; doft thou think, I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy ftol'n name Coriolanus in Corioli? You Lords and Heads o' th' State, perfidiously Cor. Hear'ft thou, Mars! Auf. Name not the God! thou boy of tears! Auf. No more. Cor. Measureless liar, thou haft made my heart Too great for what contains it. Boy? O nave!VOL. VI. Sf Par Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever 1 Lord. Peace both, and hear me speak. Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volfcians, men and lads, Auf. Why, noble lords, Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your fhame, by this unholy braggart 'Fore your own eyes and ears? All Con. Let him die for't. All People. Tear him to pieces, do it presently. (The Croud fpeak promifcuously. He kill'd my fon,-my daughter,-kill'd my coufin,He kill'd my father. 2 Lord. Peace,-no outrage-peaceThe man is noble, and his Fame folds in This Orb o' th' earth; his last offences to us Shall have judicious Hearing. Stand, Aufidius, Cr. O that I had him, With fix Aufidius's, or more, his tribe, To ufe my lawful fword Auf. Infolent villain! All Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him. [The confpirators all draw, and kill Marcius who falis, and Aufidius ftands on bim. Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold. Auf. My noble Mafters, hear me speak. 7 his fine folds in This ob o' th' earth.-] His fame overspreads the world. I Lord. 1 Lord. O Tullus 2 Lord. Thou haft done a deed, whereat Valour will weep. 3 Lord. Tread not upon him-mafters all, be quiet; Put up your fwords. Auf. My lords, when you fhall know, as in this rage Provok'd by him you cannot, the great danger Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice That he is thus cut off. Please it your Honours To call me to your Senate, I'll deliver Myfelf your loyal fervant, or endure Your heaviest cenfure. I Lord. Bear from hence his body, And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded 2 Lord. His own impatience Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame. Auf. My Rage is gone, And I am truck with forrow. Take him up: T [Exeunt, bearing the body of Marcius. A dead March founded. HE Tragedy of Coriolanus is one of the most amufing of our authour's performances. The old man's merriment in Menenius; the lofty lady's dignity in Volumnia; the bridal modefty in Virgilia; the patrician and military haughtinefs in Coriolanus; the plebeian malignity, and tribunitian infolence in Brutus and Sicinius, make a very pleafing and interesting variety: and the various revolutions of the hero's fortune fill the mind with anxious curiofity. There is, perhaps, too much buftle in the first act, and too little in the laft. The END of the SIXTH VOLUME. |