We have a power on foot; and I had purpofe Like a bold flood o'erbear. O come, go in, Cor. You blefs me, Gods! Auf. Therefore, moft abfolute Sir, if thou wilt have The leading of thy own revenges, take One half of my commiffion, and fet down. To fright them, ere deftroy. But come, come in; Say yea to thy defires. A thousand welcomes ! And more a friend, than e'er an enemy : welcome ! Enter two Servants. 1 Serv. Here's a strange alteration. Your hand; moft [Exeunt. 2 Serv. By my hand, I had thought to have ftrucken him with a cudgel, and yet my mind gave me, his clothes made a falfe report of him. 1 Serv. What an arm he has! he turn'd me about with his finger and his thumb, as one would fet up a top. 2 Serv. 2 Ser. Nay, I knew by his face that there was fomething in him. He had, Sir, a kind of face, methought I cannot tell how to term it. n 1 Serv. He had fo: looking, as it were -'would I were hanged, but I thought there was more in him than I could think. T W 2 Serv. So did I, I'll be fworn: he is fimply the rarest man i'th' world. 1 Serv. I think, he is; but a greater soldier than he, you wot one: 2 Serv. Who, my mafter? 1 Serv. Nay, it's no matter for that.wo 2 Serv. Worth fix on him I Serv. Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that; for the defence of a town, our General is excellent. 2 Serv. Ay, and for an affault too. 3 Serv. Oh, flaves, I can tell you news; news, you rafcals. ®༼༣ Both. What, what, what? let's partake. 3 Serv. I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as lieve be a condemn'd man. Both. Wherefore wherefore 3 Serv. Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our General, Caius Marcius. L 1 Serv. Why do you fay, thwack our General ? 3 Serv. I do not fay, thwack our General; but he was always good enough for him. 1 2 Serv. Come, we are fellows and friends; he was ever too hard for him, I have heard him fay fo himself. 1 Serv. He was too hard for him directly, to fay the troth on't; before Corioli, he fcotcht him and notcht him like a carbonado. 2 Serv. And, had he been cannibally given, he might have broil'd and eaten him too. 1 Serv. But, more of thy news ; 3 Serv. Why, he is so made on here within, as if he were fon and heir to Mars: fet at upper end o'th' table; ? But table; no queftion afk'd him by any of the Senators, but they stand bald before him. Our General himfelf makes a mistress of him, fanctifies himself with's hands, and turns up the white o'th' eye to his difcourfe. the bottom of the news is, our General is cut i'th' middle, and but one half of what he was yesterday. For the other has half, by the intreaty and grant of the whole table. He'll go, he fays, and fowle the porter of Rome gates by th' ears. He will mow down all before him, and leave his paffage poll'd. 2 Serv. And he's as like to do't as any man I can imagine. 3 Serv. Do't! he will do't: for, look you, Sir, he has as many friends as enemies; which friends, Sir, as it were, durft not, (look you, Sir) fhew themfelves (as we term it) his friends, whilft he's in directitude. 1 Serv. Directitude! what's that?· 3 Serv. But when they fhall fee, Sir, his creft up again, and the man in blood, they will out of their burroughs (like conies after rain) and revel all with him. 1 Serv. But when goes this forward? 3 Serv. To-morrow, to-day, prefently, you fhall have the drum ftruck up this afternoon; 'tis, as it were, a parcel of their feaft, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips. 2 Serv. Why, then we fhall have a ftirring world again this peace is worth nothing, but to ruft iron, encrease tailors, and breed ballad-makers. 1 Serv. Let me have war, fay I; it exceeds peace, as far as day does night; it's fprightly, waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy, mull'd, deaf, fleepy, infenfible, a getter of more bastard children than war's a destroyer of men. 2 Serv. 'Tis fo; and as war in fome fort may be faid to be a ravisher, fo it cannot be denied, but peace is a great maker of cuckolds. I-Serv. Ay, and it makes men hate one another. 3 Serv. Reafon; because they then lefs need one another; the wars, for my money. I hope, to see Romans as cheap as Volfcians. They They are rifing, they are rifing. Bath. In, in, in, in. [Exeunt. SCENE, a publick Place in Rome. Enter Sicinius and Brutus. Sic.(24) W His remedies are tame i'th' prefent peace, E hear not of him,neither need we fear him; And quietnefs o'th' people, which before, Were in wild hurry. Here we make his friends Enter Menenius. Bru. We ftood to't in good time. Is this Menenius? Sic. 'Tis he, 'tis he: O, he is grown moft kind of late. Hail, Sir! Men. Hail to you both! Sic. Your Coriolanus is not much mifs'd, but with his friends; the Commonwealth doth ftand, and fo would do, were he more angry at it. Men. All's well; and might have been much better, if he could have temporiz'd. (24) We hear not of him, neither need we fear him, His Remedies are tame: the pr fent Peace And Quietnefs o'th' People, which before Were in wild burry. As this Paflage has been hitherto pointed, it labours under two Abfurdities; firft, that the Peace abroad, and the Quietnefs of the Populace at home, are called Marcius's Remedies; whereas, in Truth, these were the Impediments of his Revenge: In the next place, the latter Branch of the Sentence is imperfect and ungrammatical. My Regulation prevents both thefe Inconveniencies. Sic. Where is he, hear you? Men. Nay, I hear nothing: His mother and his wife hear nothing from him. Enter three or four Citizens. 4 All. The Gods preferve you both! Bru. Good-e'en to you all, good-e'en to you all. 1 Cit. Our felves, our wives, and children, on our knees, Are bound to pray for you both. ༔ Sic. Live and thrive! Bru. Farewel, kind neighbours: We wish'd, Coriolanus had lov'd you, as we did. Both Tri. Farewel, farewel.. [Exeunt Citizens. Sic. This is a happier and more comely time, Than when thefe fellows ran about the streets, Crying confufion. Bru. Caius Marcius was A worthy officer i'th' war, but infolent, O'ercome with pride, ambitious past all thinking, Sic. And affecting one fole throne, Without affiftance. Men. Nay, I think not fo. Sic. We had by this, to all our lamentation, If he had gone forth Conful, found it fo. Bru. The Gods have well prevented it, and Rome Sits fafe and ftill without him. Enter Edile. Edile. Worthy Tribunes, There is a flave, whom we have put in prifon, Reports, the Volfcians with two feveral powers And with the deepest malice of the war Men. 'Tis Aufidius, Who, hearing of our Marcius banishment, Thrufts |