Hath brought me to thy hearth, not out of hope
(Mistake me not) to fave my life; for if
I had feared death, of all the men i' th' world
I'd have avoided thee. But in mere spite
To be full quit of thofe my banishers,

Stand I before thee here; then if thou haft
A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge

Thine own particular wrongs, and ftop thofe maims Of fhame feen through thy country, fpeed thee ftraight,

And make my misery serve thy turn: so use it,
That my revengeful fervices may prove
As benefits to thee. For I will fight

Against my cankered country, with the fpleen
Of all the under fiends. But if fo be

Thou dareft not this, and that to prove more for-
Thou'rt tir'd; then, in a word, I also am [tunes
Longer to live moft weary, and present

My throat to thee, and to thy ancient malice:
Which not to cut, would fhew thee but a fool,
Since I have ever followed thee with hate,
Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast,
And cannot live but to thy fhame, unless
It be to do thee fervice.

Auf. Oh, Marcius, Marcius,

Each word thou'ft fpoke hath weeded from my A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter

[heart Should from yon cloud speak to me things divine, And fay, 'tis true; I'd not believe them more Than thee, all-noble Marcius. Let me twine Mine arms about that body, where against My grained afh an hundred times hath broke, And scared the moon with splinters: here I clip The anvil of my fword, and do contest As hotly and as nobly with thy love, As ever in ambitious ftrength I did

Contend against thy valour. Know thou first,
I loved the maid I married; never man
Sighed truer breath: but, that I fee thee here,
Thou noble thing, more dances my rapt heart,
Than when I first my wedded mistress saw [thee,
Beftride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell
We have a power on foot; and I had purpose
Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn,
Or lose my arm for't: thou haft beat me out
Twelve feveral times, and I have nightly since
Dream'd of encounters 'twixt thyself and me:
We have been down together in my sleep,
Unbuckling helms, fifting each other's throat,
And waked half dead with nothing. Worthy Mar-
Had we no quarrel elfe to Rome, but that [cius,
Thou art thence "banithed, we would mufter all
From twelve to feventy; and pouring war
Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,

Like a bold flood o'er-bear. O come, go in,
And take our friendly fenators by the hands,
Who now are here, taking their leaves of me,
Who am prepared against your territories,
Though not for Rome itself.

Cor. You blefs me, gods!

[have

Auf. Therefore, moft abfolute Sir, if thou wilt
The leading of thine own revenges, take
One half of my commiffion, and fet down
As beft thou art experienced, fince thou know'st
Thy country's ftrength and weaknefs, thine own
Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, [ways;
Or rudely visit them in parts remote,

To fright them, ere deftroy. But come, come in;
Let me commend thee first to thofe that fhall
Say yea to thy defires. A thousand welcomes !
And more a friend, than e'er an enemy :

Yet, Marcius, that was much.--Your hand; most [Exeunt.

welcome!

Enter two Servants.

1 Ser. Here's a strange alteration.

2 Ser. By my hand, I had thought to have ftrucken him with a cudgel; and yet my

mind gave me,

his clothes made a false report of him.

1 Ser. What an arm he has! he turned me about with his finger and his thumb, as one would fet up a top.

2 Ser. Nay, I knew by his face that there was fomething in him. He had, Sir, a kind of face, methought---I cannot tell how to term it.

1 Ser. He had fo: looking, as it were---would I were hanged, but I thought there was more in him than I could think.

2 Ser. So did. I, I'll be fworn: he is fimply the rareft man i' th' world.

1 Ser. I think he is; but a greater foldier than he, you wot one.

2 Ser. Who, my master?

1 Ser. Nay, it's no matter for that.

2 Ser. Worth fix on him.

1 Ser. Nay, not fo neither; but I take him to be the greater foldier,

2 Ser. Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to fay that; for the defence of a town, our General is excellent.

1 Ser. Ay, and for an affault too.

Enter a third Servant,

3 Ser. Oh, flaves, I can tell you news; news, you rascals.

Both. What, what, what? let's partake.

3 Ser. I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as lieve be a condemned man.

Bath. Wherefore? wherefore?

3 Ser. Why, here's he that was wont to thwack Our General, Caius Marcius.

1 Ser. Why do you fay, thwack our General? 3 Ser. I do not fay, thwack our General; but he was always good enough for him.

2 Ser. Come, we are fellows and friends; he was ever too hard for him, I have heard him fay foi himself.

1 Ser. He was too hard for him directly, to fay the troth on't: before Corioli, he fcocht him and nocht him like a carbonado.

2 Ser. And, had he been cannibally given, he might have broiled and eaten him too.

I Ser. But, more of thy news;

3

Ser. Why, he is fo made on here within, as if he were fon and heir to Mars: fet at upper end o1 th' table; no question afked him by any of the fenators, but they stand bald before him. Our General himself makes a mistress of him, fanctifies himfelf with's hands, and turns up the white o' th' eye to his discourse. But the bottom of the news is, our General is cut th' middle, and but one half of what he was yesterday. For the other has half, by the intreaty and grant of the whole table. He'll go, he fays, and fowle the porter of Rome-gates by the ears. He will mow down all before him, and leave his paffage polled.

2 Ser. And he's as like to do't as any man I can' imagine.

3-Ser. Do't! he will do't: for look you, Sir, he has as many friends as enemies; which friends, Sir, as it were, durft not (look you, Sir) fhew themselves (as we term it) his friends whilft he's in directitude. 1 Ser. Directitude! what's that?

3

Ser. But when they fhall fee, Sir, his cret up again, and the man in blood, they will out of theirg

burroughs (like connies after rain) and revel all with him.

1 Ser. But when goes this forward?

3 Ser. To-morrow, to-day, presently, you shall have the drum ftruck up this afternoon: 'tis, as it. were, a parcel of their feaft, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips.

2 Ser. Why, then we fhall have a stirring world again: this peace is worth nothing, but to ruft iron, encrease tailors, and breed ballad-makers.

1 Ser. Let me have war, fay I; it exceeds peace,. as far as day does night; it's fprightly, waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy, mulled, deaf, fleepy, infenfible, a getter of more bastard children than war's a destroyer of

men.

2 Ser. 'Tis fo; and as war in fome fort may be faid to be a ravifher, fo it cannot be denied but peace is a great maker of cuckolds.

1 Ser. Ay, and it makes men hate one another.

3 Ser. Reafon, because they then less need one! another: the wars, for my money. I hope to see Romans as cheap as Volfcians.

They are rifing, they are rifing.

Both. In, in, in, in.

SCENE, a public place in Rome.

Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS.

[Exeunt.

Sic. (33) We hear not of him, neither need we fear him;

33) We hear not of him, neither need we fear him,
His remedies are tame; the prefent peace

And quietness o' th' people, which before

Were in wild hurry.] As this pafage has been hitherto pointed, it labours under two abfurdities; first, that the