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A C T Antium ANUs Appius Auſ banish beseech blood BRUTUs and SiciNIUs Caius Marcius capitol consul Corioli dastard death Enter CoMINIUS Enter CoRIolanus Enter MENENIUs Enter Sicinius Enter the Citizens Exeunt Exit CoRioLANUs Flourish of Trumpets Flourish of Trumpets—Shouts—&c friends Fulvius give gods hang hath hear heart honour Jupiter knee lady Lictors Little Queen look'd lord madam mercy mother never noble nobly o'er peace plebeians poor pr’ythee pray proud receiv'd revenge Roman SCENE SCENE II senate senate-house SERVILIA shame shout show'd soldier speak stand Street in Rome sword Tarpeian rock tears thine thing Thou art thou hast thyself Titus Lartius tongue traitor tribunes Trumpets sound Tullus Aufidius us'd VALERIA valour VIRGIL1A VIRGILIA voices Volscians Volumn 1A VolumniA Volusius What's wife word worthy wounds
Page 42 - As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcases of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you ; And here remain with your uncertainty ! Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts ! Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, Fan you into despair ! Have the power still To banish your defenders ; till, at length, Your ignorance...
Page 6 - Deserves your hate : and your affections are A sick man's appetite, who desires most that Which would increase his evil. He that depends Upon your favours, swims with fins of lead, And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye ! Trust ye? With every minute you do change a mind; And call him noble, that was now your hate, Him vile, that was your garland.
Page 61 - But with respect and awful veneration. — Whate'er her blots, whate'er her giddy factions, There is more virtue in one single year Of Roman story, than your Volscian annals Can boast through all their creeping, dark duration ! Auf.
Page 39 - That hath receiv'd an alms! I will not do't, Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth, And by my body's action teach my mind A most inherent baseness.
Page 55 - The noble sister of Publicola, The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle That 's curded by the frost from purest snow And hangs on Dian's temple : dear Valeria ! Vol.
Page 61 - I court The worst thy sword can do ; while thou from me Hast nothing to expect but sore destruction ; Quit then this hostile camp : once more I tell thee, Thou art not here one single hour in safety.
Page 60 - Fire the cursed forest, where these Roman wolves Haunt and infest their nobler neighbours round them ; Extirpate from the bosom of this land A false, perfidious people, who, beneath The mask of freedom, are a combination Against the liberty of human kind ; The genuine seed of outlaws and of robbers.