I was forc'd to scold. Your judgements, my grave

lords,

Must give this cur the lie and his own notion (Who wears my stripes impress'd on him; that must

bear

My beating to his grave;) shall join to thrust
The lie unto him.

1 Lord.

Peace, both, and hear me speak.

Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volces; men and lads, Stain all your edges on me.-Boy! False hound! If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there, That like an eagle in a dove-cote, I

Flutter'd your voices in Corioli:

Alone I did it.-Boy!.

Auf.

Why, noble lords,

Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, 'Fore your own eyes and ears?

Con. Let him die for't.

[Several speak at once. Cit. [Speaking promiscuously.] Tear him to pieces, do it presently. He killed my son;- my daughter;-He killed my cousin Marcus;-He killed my father.

2 Lord. Peace, ho;-no outrage;-peace. The man is noble, and his fame folds in

This orb o'the earth. His last offence to us

Shall have judicioust hearing.-Stand, Aufidius,
And trouble not the peace.

Cor.

O, that I had him,

With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe,

To use my lawful sword!

Auf.

Insolent villain!

Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.

[Aufidius and the Conspirators draw, and kill Coriolanus, who falls, and Aufidius stands on him.

His fame overspreads the world. + Judicial.

Lords.

Hold, hold, hold, hold.

Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak. 1 Lord.

O Tullus,

2 Lord. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour

will weep.

3 Lord. Tread not upon him.-Masters all, be quiet;

Put up your swords.

Auf. My lords, when you shall know (as in this

rage,

Provok'd by him, you cannot), the great danger Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours To call me to your senate, I'll deliver

Myself your loyal servant, or endure

Your heaviest censure.

1 Lord.

Bear from hence his body,

And mourn you for him: let him be regarded
As the most noble corse, that ever herald

Did follow to his urn.

2 Lord.

His own impatience

Takes from Aufidius.a great part of blame.
Let's make the best of it.

Auf.
My rage is gone,
And I am struck with sorrow.-Take him up:
Help, three of the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.-
Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully:
Trail your steel pikes.-Though in this city he
Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one,

Which to this hour bewail the injury,
Yet he shall have a noble memory*.-

Assist.

[Exeunt, bearing the body of Coriolanus. A dead march sounded,

* Memorial.

The tragedy of Coriolanus is one of the most amusing of our author's performances. The old man's merriment in Menenius; the lofty lady's dig. nity in Volumnia; the bridal modesty in Virgilia ; the patrician and military haughtiness in Coriolanus; the plebeian malignity and tribunitian insolence in Brutus and Sicinius, make a very pleasing and interesting variety; and the various revolutions of the hero's fortune, fill the mind with anxious curiosity. There is, perhaps, too much bustle in the first act, and too little in the last.

JOHNSON.

END OF VOL. VI.

Printed by S. Hamilton, Weybridge.