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Hath not that honor in 't it had; for where

I thought to crush him in an equal force,
True sword to sword, I'll potch at him some

way,

Or wrath or craft may get him. First Sol.

My valor 's

He's the devil. Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle. poison'd

20

With only suffering stain by him; for him
Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep nor sanctuary,
Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol,
The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice,
Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up
Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst
My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it
At home, upon my brother's guard, even there,

13. "where" for whereas.-H. N. H.

19. That is, "my valour, to reach his life, shall lose its nature, cease to be generous in respect of time and means."-In the next line, the meaning is, "he being naked, sick."-H. N. H.

25. That is, in my own house under my brother's protection.— Upon this speech of Aufidius Coleridge remarks as follows: "I have such deep faith in Shakespeare's heart-lore, that I take for granted that this is in nature; although I cannot in myself discover any germ of possible feeling, which could wax and unfold itself into such a sentiment. However, I perceive that in this speech is meant to be contained a prevention of shock at the after-change in Aufidius' character." This comment is commented on by Mr. Verplanck thus: "Such a criticism from Coleridge is worthy the reader's consideration, but I cannot myself perceive its justice.

The mortification of defeat embitters Aufidius' rivalry to hatred. When afterwards his banished rival appeals to his nobler nature, that hatred dies away, and his generous feeling revives. Bitter jealousy and hatred again grow up, as his glories are eclipsed by his former adversary; yet this dark passion, too, finally yields to a generous sorrow at his rival's death. I think I have observed very similar alternations of such mixed motives and sentiments, in eminent men, in the collisions of political life."

Against the hospitable canon, would I
Wash my fierce hand in 's heart.

city;

Go

Go you to the

Learn how 'tis held, and what they are that must
Be hostages for Rome.

First Sol.

Will not you go?

Auf. I am attended at the cypress grove: I pray

you

30

'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. First Sol.

I shall, sir. [Exeunt.

Certainly, both these comments are very fine. For ourselves, however, we can discover in the speech nothing more than the natural extravagance of a generous, but most ambitious and very inconstant mind, writhing under an agony of extreme disappointment. In such cases, dark thoughts of revenge often bubble up in the mind from an unseen depth, yet do not crystallize into character.

H. N. H.

31. In 1588 four corn mills were built on the south side of the Thames by the Corporation of London, close to the Globe Theater.C. H. H.

ACT SECOND

SCENE I

Rome. A public place.

Enter Menenius, with the two Tribunes of the people, 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.

Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.

Men. Pray you, who does the wolf love?

Sic. The lamb.

Men. Aye, to devour him; as the hungry 10 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. Well, sir.

Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two have not in abundance?

17. "In

poor in"; so, likewise, in a Letter from Lord Burghley to the Earl of Shrewsbury, found among the Weymouth

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. Why, how are we censured?

Men. Because you talk of pride now,-will you not be angry?

Both. Well, well, sir, well.

20

Men. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very lit- 30 tle thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience: give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at your pleasures; at the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you in You blame Marcius for being

being so.
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 wondrous single: your abilities 40 are too infant-like for doing much alone. You talk of pride: O that you could turn your eyes toward the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O that you could!

manuscripts, and quoted by Malone: "I did earnestly inquire of hym in what estate he stood in for discharge of his former debts."H. N. H.

42-45. "O that,” etc.; alluding to the fable, that every man has a bag hanging before him, in which he puts his neighbor's faults; and another behind him, in which he stows his own.-H. N. H.

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Both. What then, sir?

Men. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates, alias fools, as any in Rome.

Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough 50

too.

Men. I am known to be a humorous patrician,

and one that loves a cup of hot wine with
not a drop of allaying Tiber in 't; said to be
something imperfect in favoring the first
complaint, hasty and tinder-like upon too
trivial motion; one that converses more with
the buttock of the night than with the fore-
head of the morning: what I think I utter,
and spend my malice in my breath. Meet- 60
ing two such wealsmen as you are,-I can-
not call you Lycurguses-if the drink you
give me touch my palate adversely, I make
a crooked face at it. I can't say your wor-
ships have delivered the matter well, when
I find the ass in compound with the major
part of your syllables: and though I must be
content to bear with those that say you are
reverend grave men, yet they lie deadly that
tell you you have good faces. If you see 70
this in the map of my microcosm, follows it

57-59. "one that converses," etc.; rather a late lier down than an early riser. So in Love's Labor's Lost: "In the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the afternoon."-H. N. H.

66. "the ass in compound," etc.; an element of the fool in all you say.-C. H. H.

71. "map of my microcosm"; according to the theory of the early Mystic philosophers, man was a microcosm or epitome of creation; and the universe a macrocosm, or man on a grand scale. Bacon

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