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Sic.

Than stay, past doubt, for greater:
If, as his nature is, he fall in rage

With their refusal, both observe and answer
The vantage of his anger.

To the Capitol, come:

We will be there before the stream o' the peo

ple;

And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own,
Which we have goaded onward.

[Exeunt.

Cornets.

ACT THIRD

SCENE I

Rome. A street.

Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, all the Gentry, Cominius, Titus Lartius, and other Senators.

Cor. Tullus Aufidius then had made new head? Lart. He had, my lord; and that it was which caused

Our swifter composition.

Cor. So then the Volsces stand but as at first; Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make

road

Upon's again.

Com.

Cor.

They are worn, lord consul, so,
That we shall hardly in our ages see
Their banners wave again.

Saw you Aufidius?

Lart. On safe-guard he came to me; and did curse Against the Volsces, for they had so vilely

Yielded the town: he is retired to Antium.

Cor. Spoke he of me?

Lart.

Cor.

He did, my lord.

How? what?

10

Lart. How often he had met you, sword to sword;

Cor.

That of all things upon the earth he hated
Your person most; that he would pawn his for-

tunes

To hopeless restitution, so he might

Be call'd your vanquisher.

Lart. At Antium.

At Antium lives he?

Cor. I wish I had a cause to seek him there,
To oppose his hatred fully. Welcome home. 20
Enter Sicinius and Brutus.

Sic.

Behold, these are the tribunes of the people, The tongues o' the common mouth: I do despise them;

For they do prank them in authority,

Against all noble sufferance.

Cor. Ha! what is that?

Pass no further.

Bru. It will be dangerous to go on: no further. Cor. What makes this change?

Men. The matter?

Com. Hath he not pass'd the noble and the com

mon?

Bru. Cominius, no.

Cor.

Have I had children's voices? 30

First Sen. Tribunes, give way; he shall to the mar

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Are these your herd?

Must these have voices, that can yield them now,

And straight disclaim their tongues? What are your offices?

You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth?

Have you not set them on?

Men.

Be calm, be calm. Cor. It is a purposed thing, and grows by plot, To curb the will of the nobility:

Bru.

Suffer 't, and live with such as cannot rule, 40
Nor ever will be ruled.

Call 't not a plot:

The people cry you mock'd them; and of late,
When corn was given them gratis, you repined,
Scandal'd the suppliants for the people, call'd
them

Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness.
Cor. Why, this was known before.

Bru.
Cor. Have you inform'd them sithence?
Bru.

Not to them all.

How! I inform them!

Not unlike,

Com. You are like to do such business.

Bru.

Each way, to better yours.

Cor. Why then should I be consul? By yond

Sic.

clouds,

Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me
Your fellow tribune.

You show too much of that
For which the people stir: if you will pass

50

48–49. “Not unlike,” etc.; that is, likely to provide better for the security of the commonwealth than you (whose business it is) will do. To which the reply is pertinent, "Why, then, should I be consul?"-H. N. H.

To where you are bound, you must inquire your

way,

Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit;
Or never be so noble as a consul,

Nor yoke with him for tribune.
Men.
Let's be calm.
Com. The people are abused; set on.

Cor.

ing

This palter

Becomes not Rome; nor has Coriolanus

Deserved this so dishonor'd rub, laid falsely 60
I' the plain way of his merit.

Tell me of corn!

This was my speech, and I will speak 't again— Men. Not now, not now.

First Sen.

Not in this heat, sir, now.

Cor. Now, as I live, I will. My nobler friends,
I crave their pardons:

For the mutable, rank-scented many, let them
Regard me as I do not flatter, and

Therein behold themselves: I say again,

70

In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our senate
The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition,
Which we ourselves have plow'd for, sow'd and
scatter'd,

By mingling them with us, the honor'd number;
Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that
Which they have given to beggars.

Men.

Well, no more.

60. The metaphor is from a rub at bowls.-H. N. H.

69–71. The thought is from North's Plutarch: "Moreover, he said that they nourished against themselves the naughty seed and cockle of insolency and sedition, which had been sowed and scattered abroad among the people.”—H. N. H.

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