Coustrains them weep, and shake with fear and sor row; Making the mother, wife, and child, to see Our wish, which side should win: for either thou With manacles thorough our streets, or else These wars determine*: if I cannot persuade thee Vir. Ay, and on mine, That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name Living to time. Boy. He shall not tread on me; Cor. Not of a woman's tenderness to be, I have sat too long. Vol. [Rising. Nay, go not from us thus, If it were so, that our request did tend • Conclude. The Volces whom you serve, you might condemn us, Give the all-hail to thee, and cry, Be bless'd To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o'the air,} That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak! When she (poor hen !), fond of no second brood, Thou art not honest; and the gods will plague thee, The refinements. This is the last;-So we will home to Rome, Like him by chance :-Yet give us our despatch: And then I'll speak a little. Cor. O mother, mother! [Holding Volumnia by the hands, silent. What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, The gods look down, and this unnatural scene They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O! You have won a happy victory to Rome: But, for your son,- believe it, O, believe it, Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd, If not most mortal to him. But, let it come:Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars, I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius, Were you in my stead, say, would you have heard A mother less? or granted less, Aufidius? Auf. I was mov'd withal. Cor. I dare be sworn, you were: And, sir, it is no little thing, to make Mine eyes to sweat compassion. 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 cause.-O mother! wife! Auf. I am glad, thou hast set thy mercy and thy honour At difference in thee: out of that I'll work Cor. [Aside. [The Ladies make sign to Coriolanus. Ay, by and by; [To Volumnia, Virgilia, &c. But we will drink together; and you shall bear On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Rome. A public place. Enter Menenius and Sicinius. Men. See you yond' coign* o'the Capitol: yond corner stone? Sic. Why, what of that? Men. If it be possible for you to displace it with your little finger, there is some hope the ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. But I say, there is no hope in't; our throats are sentenced, and stay + upon execution. Sic. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter the condition of a man? Men. There is differency 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 year old horse. The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes. When he walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground shrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corslet with his eye; talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He sits in his state, as a thing made § for Alexander. What he bids be done, is finished * Angle. + Stay but for it. 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 shall bring from him: There is no more mercy in him, than there is milk in a male tiger; that shall our poor city find: and all this is 'long of you. Sic. The gods be good unto us! Men. No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us. When we banished him, we respected not them and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us. Enter a Messenger. Mess. Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to your house; The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune, Sic. Enter another Messenger. What's the news? Mess. Good news, good news ;-The ladies have prevail'd; The Volces are dislodg'd, and Marcius gone: Sic. Friend, Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain? [Trumpets and hautboys sounded, and drums |