(Whereof we have ta'en good, and good store,) of all The treasure, in this field achiev'd, and city, Your only choice. Mar. I thank you, general; But cannot make my heart consent to take A bribe to pay my sword: I do refuse it; And stand upon my common part with those That have beheld the doing. [A long flourish. They all cry, Marcius! Marcius! cast up their caps and lances: COMINIUS and LARTIUS stand bare. Mar. May these same instruments, which you profane, Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be An overture for the wars! No more, I say; you shout me forth Here's many else have done, Com. cles, Then reason safely with you. known, 4 Weak, feeble. Therefore, be it s Own. As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius With all the applause and clamour of the host, Bear the addition nobly ever! [Flourish. Trumpets sound, and Drums. All. Caius Marcius Coriolanus ! Cor. I will go wash; And when my face is fair, you shall perceive To the fairness of my power. Com. The best', with whom we may articulate, 'Lart. I shall, my lord. Cor: The gods begin to mock me. I that now Refus'd most princely gifts, am bound to beg Of my lord general. Take it: 'tis yours. Com. What is 't? At a poor man's house; he us'd me kindly: And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you Com. O, well begg'd! Were he the butcher of my son, he should 6 Add more by doing his best. 8 Enter into articles. 7 Chief men. Lart. Marcius, his name? Cor. By Jupiter, forgot: I am weary; yea, my memory is tir'd. Com. Go we to our tent: The blood upon your visage dries: 'tis time [Exeunt. A Flourish. SCENE X. The Camp of the Volces. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, bloody, with two or three Soldiers. Auf. The town is ta'en! 1 Sol. 'Twill be delivered back on good condition. Auf. Condition ?. I would, I were a Roman; for I cannot, Being a Volce, be that I am. Condition! I' the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius, He is mine, or I am his: Mine emulation Hath not that honour in't, it had; for where 9 (True sword to sword,) I'll potch' at him some way; Or wrath, or craft, may get him. 1.Sol. He's the devil. Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle: My valour's poison'd, With only suffering stain by him; for him 9 Whereas. 1 Poke, push. VOL. VIII. M Being naked, sick: nor fane, nor Capitol, city; Go you to the Learn, how 'tis held; and what they are, that must Be hostages for Rome. 1 Sol. Will not you go? Auf. I am attended' at the cypress grove : I pray you, ("Tis south the city mills,) bring me word thither How the world goes; that to the pace of it I may spur on my journey. 1 Sol. I shall, sir. [Exeunt. ACT THE SECOND. SCENE 1. Rome. A Publick Place. Enter MENENIUS, SICINIUS, and BRUTUS, Men. The augurer tells me, we shall have news to-night. Bru. Good, or bad? Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius. a Waited for. Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. Men. Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius. Bru. He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear. Men. He's a bear, indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two are old men ; tell me one thing that I shall ask you. Both Trib. 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 stored with all. Sic. Especially, in pride. Bru. And topping all others in boasting. Men. This is strange now: Do you two know how you are censured here in the city, I mean of us o' the right hand file? Do you? Both Trib. Why, how are we censured? Men. Because you talk of pride now,- Will you not be angry? Both Trib. Well, well, sir, well. Men. Why 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience give your disposition the reins, and be angry at your pleasures; at the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you, in being so. 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 else your actions would grow wonderous single: your abilities are too infant-like, for doing much alone. You talk of pride: O, that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O, that you could! Bru. What then, sir? |