Vol. Oh, no more; no more:
You've faid you will not grant us any thing:
For we have nothing else to afk, but that
Which you deny already: yet we will afk,
That if we fail in our request, the blame
May hang upon your hardness; therefore hear us.
Cor. Aufidius, and you Volícians, mark; for we'll
Hear nought from Rome in private.-Your requeft?
Vol. Should we be filent and not speak, our raiment
And state of bodies would bewray what life
We've led fince thy exile. Think with thyself,
How more unfortunate than all living women
Are we come hither; fince thy fight, which fhould
Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with.
comforts,

Constrains them weep, and fhake with fear and
Making the mother, wife, and child to fee [forrow';
The fon, the husband, and the father tearing
His country's bowels out: and to poor we,
Thine enmity's most capital; thou barrest us
Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort
That all but we enjoy. For how can we,
Alas! how can we for our country pray,
Whereto we're bound? together with thy victory,
Whereto we're bound? Alack! or we must lofe
The country, our dear nurse; or elfe thy perfon,
Our comfort in the country. We must find
An eminent calamity, though we had

Our wifh, which fide fhould win. For either thou
Muft, as a foreign recreant, be led

With manacles along our streets; or elfe
Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin,
And bear the palm, for having bravely thed
Thy wife and childrens blood. For myself, fon,.
I purpose not to wait on fortune, 'till

Thefe wars determine: if I can't perfuade thee

Rather to fhew a noble grace to both parts
Than feek the end of one; thou shalt no fooner
March to affault thy country, than to tread
(Truft to't, thou fhalt not) on thy mother's womb,
That brought thee to this world.

Virg. Ay, and mine too,

That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name Living to time.

Boy. He fhall not tread on me:

I'll run away till I'm bigger, but then I'll fight. Cor. Not of a woman's tenderness to be, Requires, nor child, nor woman's face, to fee: I've fat too long.

Vol. Nay, go not from us thus:

If it were fo, that our requeft did tend
To fave the Romans, thereby to destroy

The Volfcians whom you ferve, you might condemn
As poisonous of your honour. No; our fuit [us,
Is, that you reconcile them: while the Volfcians
May fay, this mercy we have fhewed; the Romans,
This we received; and each in either fide

Give the all-hail to thee, and cry, be blest
Formaking up this peace! thou knoweft, great fon,
The end of war's uncertain; but this certain,
That if thou conquer Rome, the benefit,
Which thou shalt thereby reap, is such a name,
Whofe repetition will be dogged with curfes:
Whofe chronicle thus writ, The man was noble--
But with his laft attempt he wiped it out,
Deftroyed his country, and his name remains
To th'enfuing age abhorred.' Speak to me, fon:
Thou haft affected the firft ftrains of honour,
To imitate the graces of the gods;

To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' th' air,
And yet to charge thy fulphur with a bolt, (40)

(40), And yet to change thy fulphur with a belt,

That should but rive an oak. Why doft not speak?
Thinkelt thou it honourable for a noble man
Still to remember wrongs? daughter, speak you ::
He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy;
Perhaps thy childishness will move him more

Than can car reafons. There's no man in the world.
More bound to's mother, yet here he lets me pratė-
Like one i' th' ftocks. Thou'ft never in thy life-
Shewed thy dear mother any courtefy;

When fhe, (poor hen !) fond of no second brood,,
Has clucked thee to the wars, and fafely home,
Loaden with honour. Say, my requeft's unjust,
And spurn me back: but if it be not fo

Thou art not honeft, and the gods will plague thee,
That thou restraineft from me the duty which
To a mother's part belongs.-He turns away:
Down, Ladies; let us fhame him with our knees.
To's fir-name Coriolanus 'longs more pride,
Than pity to our prayers. Down; and end;
This is the laft. So we will home to Rome,
And die among our neighbours: nay, behold us. -
This boy, that cannot tell what he would have,
But kneels, and holds up hands for fellowship,
Does reafon our petition with more ftrength
Than thou haft to deny't. Come, let us go :
This fellow had a Volícian to his mother: (41).

That should but rive an oak.]

All the printed copies concur in this reading, but I have ́ ́ certainly restored the true word. Vid. the fourteenth note on this play.

(41) This fellow had a Volfcian to his mother;-.

His wife is in Corioli, and his child

Like him by chance;-] But though his wife was in Corioli, might not his child, nevertheless, be like him? The minute alteration I have made, I am perfuaded reftores, the true reading. Volumnia would hint, that Coriolanus by his frern behaviour had loft all family-regards, and did not re

His wife is in Corioli, and this child

Like him by chance; yet give us our dispatch:
I'm hufh'd, until our city be afire;

And then I'll fpeak a little.

Cor. O mother, mother!

[Holds her by the hands, filent. What have you done? behold, the heavens do ope, The gods lock down, and this unnatural scene They laugh at. Oh, my mother, mother! oh! You've won a happy victory to Rome: But for your fon, believe it, oh, believe it, Most dangerously you have with him prevailed, If not most mortal to him. Let it come:

Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars,

I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius,
Were you in my ftead, fay, would you have heard.
A mother lefs? or granted lefs, Aufidius ?
Auf, I too was moved.

Cor. I dare be fworn you were;

And, Sir, it is no little thing to make»

Mine eyes to fweat compaffion. But, good Sir, What peace you'll make, advise me: for my part,. I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you, and pray you Stand to me in this caufe. O mother! wife!duf. I'm glad thou'ft fet thy mercy and thy

honour

At difference in thee; out of that I'll work
Myself a former fortune.

[Afide Cor. Ay, by and by; but we will drink together; And you fhall bear [To Vol. Virg. &a. A better witness back than words, which we, On like conditions, will have counter-fealed.

member that he had any child. I am not his mother (fays the) his wife is in Corioli, and this child, whom we bring with us (young Marcius) is not his child, but only bears his zefemblance by chance.

Come, enter with us: Ladies, you deferve
To have a temple built you: all the fwords.
In Italy, and her confederate arms,
Could not have made this peace.

SCENE, the Forum, in Rome.

Enter MENENIUS and SICINIUS.

[Exeunt.

Men. See you yond coin o' th' capitol, yond cor-
Sic. Why, what of that?

[ner-stone?

Men. If it be poffible for you to difplace it with your little finger, there is fome hope the ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. But, I fay, there is no hope in't; our throats are fentenced, and stay upon execution.

Sic. Is't poffible that fo fhort a time can alter the condition of a man?

Men. There is difference between a grub and a butterfly, yet your butterfly was a grub; this Marcius is grown from man to dragon: he has wings, he's more than a creeping thing.

Sic. He loved his mother dearly.

Men. So did he me; and he no more remembers his mother now, than an eight years old horse. The tartness of his face fours ripe grapes. When he walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground fhrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corflet with his eye: talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He fits in his ftate, as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done, is finished with his bidding. He wants nothing of a God but eternity, and a Heaven to throne in.

Sic. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly.

Men. I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his mother fhall bring from him; there is no more mercy in him, than there is milk in a male