THE INGRATITUDE OF A Commonwealth: Or, the FALL of Laius Martius Loriolanus.  
As IT IS ACTED AT THE Theatre- Royal. By N. Tate.  
— Honoratum si forte reponis Achillem,  
Impiger, Iracundus, Inexorabilis, Acer,  
Jura neget sibi nata, nihil non arroget Armis.  Hor. 
LONDON, Printed by L. M. for Joseph Hindmarsh, at the Black-Bull in Cornhill. 1682.   

TO The Right Honourable CHARL'S Lord Herbert, Eldest Son to the Marquis of Worcester, etc.  
My Lord,  
YOur Lordship's favour for Learning in General, has encouraged me to beg your Patronage of the following Sheets, which contain a remarkable piece of Roman History, though formed into Play. I have yet another Plea for Pardon, since I impose not on your Lordship's Protection a work merely of my own Compiling; having in this Adventure Launched out in Shakespear's Bottom. Much of what is offered here, is Fruit that grew in the Richness of his Soil; and what ever the Superstructure prove, it was my good fortune to build upon a Rock. Upon a clofe view of this Story, there appeared in some Passages, no small Resemblance with the busy Faction of our own time. And I confess, I chose rather to set the Parallel nearer to Sight, than to throw it off at further Distance. Yet there are none that can apply any Part (as satire) on themselves, whose Designs and Practices are not of the same Cast What offence to any good Subject in Stygmatizing on the Stage, those Troublers of the State, that out of private Interest or Malice, Seduce the Multitude to Ingratitude, against Persons that are not only placed in Rightful Power above them; but also the Heroes and Defenders of their Country.  
Where is the harm of letting the People see what Miseries Common Wealths have been involved in, by a blind Compliance with their popular Misleaders: Nor may it be altogether amiss, to give these Projectors themselves, examples how wretched their dependence is on the uncertain Crowd. Faction is a Monster that often makes the slaughter 'twas designed for; and as often turns its fury on those that hatched it. The Moral therefore of these Scenes being to Recommend Submission and Adherence to Established Lawful Power, which in a word, is Loyalty; They have so far a natural Claim to your Lordship's Acceptance: This Virtue seeming Inheritance in Your Lordship, and derived from your Ancestors with Your Blood. We cannot cast an Eye on the sufferings of His late Majesty, but we find in broad Letters, the Allegiance and Services of Your Lordship's most honourable Grandfather, who stopped at no Expense of Blood or Fortunes on His behalf; nor was Providence wanting to Crown his Singular worth with a Signal Glory.  

When Civil Discord through the Realm had Reigned,  
And English Swords with English Blood were Stained,  
When out of Zeal Religion was expelled,  
And Men for Conscience 'gainst their Prince Rebelled,  
The Best of Princes— When the Power Divine,  
(On Purposes too deep for Reason's Line)  
Gave Rebell-Arms Success, and seemed to bring  
Distress at once upon our Saint and King.  
Not Jesse's Son seemed better formed to Reign,  
Nor were his Worthies of a Nobler Strain!  
But what Relief can bravest Valour lend,  
When Heroes, not with Foes, but Fate Contend?  
The Age's Crimes for no less Curse did Call,  
And 'tis Decreed the Royal Cause must Fall!  
Of Conquest thus by Destiny Bereft,  
Our blasted War has yet one Garland Left.  
Alone the Foes united Strength to Fight,  
And Strike the last Famed Blow for Royal Right.  
This Honour to the Noble Worcester Fell,  
Who, always Brave, Himself did now Excel,  
His Friends, his Troops, his 
† Ragland Castle (the Marquess of Worcester's Seat the last Garrison held out for the KING.  House, his Citadel!  
Here, tho' reduced to last Extremes He Lies,  
His cheerful Cannon still the Foe Defies;  
The more Distresed, the more his Virtue Shines,  
His Courage Rising as his Strength Declines:  
Oft from Unequal Force he Guards his Walls,  
Oft in fierce Sallies on the Leaguer Falls.  
Thus while Expired the other Members Lie,  
Worcester Stirs Last the Heart of Loyalty.   
Pardon my Lord this Start, for the Subject is scarce to be thought on without Transport. Nor has the same Fidelity to the Crown been wanting to complete the Character of the present Marquis of Worcester; whose Eminent Virtues have rendered him an Ornament both of our Court and Age. What Expectations then the World conceives of Your Lordship is easily imagined, and what Instances of Noblest Qualifications Your Lordship has already given, the World needs no Information: Besides the Goodness of Your Lordship's Temper, and the Justice of your Principles; your Acquaintance with Books, and Judgement in Affairs, so far transcend Your Years, as would secure me from Flattery, though I should Launch into a Panegyric. But I come to beg Protection, not to give Praise; My greatest Ambition being to Subscribe myself,  
Your Lordship's most Obedient humble Servant, N. Tate.   

PROLOGUE  Written by Sir George Raynsford. 

OUr Author does with modesty submit,  
To all the Loyal Critics of the Pit;  
Not to the Wit-dissenters of the Age,  
Who in a Civil War do still Engage,  
The ancient fundamental Laws o'th' Stage:  
Such who have common Places got, by stealth,  
From the Sedition of Wit's Commonwealth.  
From Kings presented, They may well detract,  
Who will not suffer Kings Themselves too Act.   

Yet he presumes we may be safe to Day,  
Since Shakespeare gave Foundation to the Play:  
'Tis Altered— and his sacred Ghost appeased;  
I wish you All as easily were Pleased:  
He only ventures to make Gold from Oar,  
And turn to Money, what lay dead before.   

But now I spy Tyrannic Judges here;  
What pity 'tis so Fair, and so Severe!  
Fine Lady Critics— on whose fragrant Breath,  
Depends the Plays long Life, or sudden Death.  
From them the Poet must receive his Doom,  
Just as Affairs succeed with them at Home:  
We hope the Parakeet and Squirrel's well,  
Else we are Damned to th' very Pit of Hell.  
Sir John is kind— and nothing goes Amiss,  
Else we shall have a scurvy Night of this!  
If we should here present a Husband, cross,  
And the Revenge neglected by his Spouse,  
'Twere Death in us— nay some of 'em would Rage,  
Because he's not made Cuckold on the Stage:  
But who shall be that happy Undertaker,  
Since each would strive to be that Cuckold-maker?    

THE PERSONS.  
Aius Martius Coriolanus, 
 Cominius, 
[Consul.  Menenius, 
A blunt old Soldier, and Friend to Coriolanus.  Brutus, Sicinius, 
Two Tribunes of the People, Factious, and Enemies to Coriolanus.  Tullus Ausidius, 
[General of the Volsces.  Nigridius, 
A Villain; discarded by Caius Martius, and received by Ausidius.  Volumnia, 
[Mother to Caius Martius'.  Virgilia, 
[His Wife.  Young Martius, 
[His Child.  Valeria, 
An affected, talkative, fantastical Lady.  Citizens, Senator's, Soldiers, Messengers, Servants. 
  
SCENE, The Cities of Rome and Corioles.   

The Ingratitude OF A Commonwealth.  

ACT THE FIRST.  

Scene, The City Rome.  Enter A Company of Mutinous Citizens, with Slaves, Clubs, and other Weapons. 1 Cit 
BEfore we Proceed any further, hear me Speak.  All. 
Speak, speak.  1 Cit 
Let me hear Silence then: And shall I speak all your Minds before you take the Trouble to think what you would have?  All. 
Speak, speak.  1 Cit 
You are all Resolved rather to Die than Starve.  All. 
Resolved, resolved.  1 Cit 
First you know Caius Martius is Chief Enemy to the People.  All. 
We know't, we know't.  1 Cit 
Let us kill him, and we'll have Corn at our own Price.  
Is't a Verdict?  All. 
He's Dead, he's dead.  2 Cit 
One Word good Citizens.  1 Cit 
Good Citizens; we are Accounted poor Citizens, the Patricians good: what Surfeits them, would Relieve us: Let'em feel our Swords, that take away the Use of our Knives; not that I mean any Harm Neighbours; for the Gods know I speak this in Hunger for Bread, and not in Thirst for Revenge.  2 Cit 
Would we Proceed only against cain's martin's?  1 Cit 
Against him only, together with all the Rest.  2 Cit 
Consider what Services he has done for his Country.  1 Cit 
We have paid him with our Thanks for't; but he is Proud, and hates the Commonalty; we'll Pay him for that Shout here too: You say he did Famously to Please his Country; I say he did it to Please his Mother, as great a Hector as himself. What Shouts are these? Why? There now is the Blessing of good Example. The other side o'th' City is Risen too: Come, let's make Hast, or they'll Run away with the Capitol before we overtake 'em.  All. 
Away, away, away.  Enter Menenius. 1 Cit 
Soft, Who comes here? Oh! 'tis Menenius Agrippa, one that Loves the People, and always Employed me to Work for him.  2 Cit 
Well, He's indifferent Honest.  Men. 
What Work's in Hand my Country men? where go you with those Staves and Clubs? The Matter, speak I beseech you?  1 Cit 
Our Business is not unknown to the Senate, they might have smelled us this Fortnight; they say, poor Suitors have strong Breathes, they shall find we have strong Arms too.  Men. 
Why Masters, my good Friends, my honest Neighbours,  
Will you undo yourselves?  1 Cit 
Nay, if that be all, we are undone already.  Men. 
I tell you Friends, the good Patricians have  
For all your Wants, most charitable Care:  
But for this Dearth, the Gods (not They) have made it:  
You are Transported by your Misery,  
To Slander those that Care for you like Fathers.  1 Cit 
Care for us? Yes, by shutting up the Storehouses, and suffering us to Famish: If the Wars Eat us not up, they will; and there's the Care they bear for us.  Men. 
Now must you, or Confess yourselves Malicious;  
Or be Accused of Folly: Shall I tell you  
A pretty Tale? It may be, you have heard it,  
But since it serves the present Purpose—  1 Cit 
Well, we'll hear it Sir; but think not to fob us off with a Tale: but an't please you Deliver.  Men. 
There was a Time—  2 Cit 
Good, There was a Time; a very good Beginning: all your good Stories begin with, There was a Time.  Men. 
When all the Body's Members  
Rebelled against the Belly, and Accused it  
For being Unactive, Idle, never bearing  
Like Labour with the Rest, whilst th' other Parts  
Did See, and Hear, Devise, Instruct, Walk, Feel,  
Yet this dull Gulf gorged all the Food; to which  
The Belly Answered—  1 Cit 
Well, What said the Belly?  Men. 
Why Sir? I tell you with a kind of Smile:  
For look you, I may make the Belly Smile,  
As well as Speak: It Tauntingly replied  
To the Discontented Members, the Mutinous Parts.  1 Cit 
Well, What was its Answer?  2. Cit 
He had best see to't, that it be a good One.  Men. 
Patience good Friends,  
Your most grave Belly was Deliberate,  
Not Rash like his Accusers: and thus Answered,  
True is it my incorporate Friends (quoth he)  
That I do first Receive the general Food  
You Live upon, and 'tis most fit;  
Because I am the Store-House and the Shop  
Of the whole Body: but if you do remember,  
I send it through the Rivers of your Blood,  
Even to the Heart, and every Nerve and Vein,  
From me receive their Strength; though all at once;  
Pray Mark me Sirs—  All. 
Well Sir, we do.  Men. 
Though all at once (says he) cannot  
See what I do Deliver out to Each;  
Yet I can make up my Account, that all  
Do Back from me, receive the Flower of All,  
And leave me but the Bran: What say you to't?  All. 
Nay Sir, What say You to't? Come.  Men. 
The Senator's of Rome are this good Belly,  
And you the Factious parts; Digest things rightly,  
Touching the Common-Weal, and you shall find,  
No public Benefit which you receive,  
But it Proceeds from them, not from your felves:  
What do you think of this? And what think you?  
You the great Toe of this Assembly?  1 Cit 
I the great Toe! Why the great Toe?  Men. 
For that being one o'th' Lowest, Basest, Poorest;  
Of this most Wise Rebellion thou goest Fore-most:  
Thou Rascal, that art worst in Blood, the Ringleader:  
But make you ready your stiff Bats and Clubs.  
Rome, and her Rats are at the point of Battle.  
Hail Noble Martius.  Enter Caius Martius'. Mart. 
What is the Matter you Dissentious Rogues,  
You Scabs, Bred from the Itch of your own Opinion?  1 Cit 
ay, we had ever your good Word.  Mart. 
He that will give good Words to thee will Flatter  
Beneath a Bawd; What would you have you Curs?  
That like not Peace nor War; the one Affrights you,  
The other makes you Factious: he that Trusts you;  
Where he should find you Lions, finds you Hares;  
You are Virtues Contrary; who deserves Greatness,  
Deserves your Hate; and your Affections are  
A Sick-man's Appetite, which desires that most,  
That would increase his Evil; who Depends  
Upon your Favours, Swims with Finns of Lead:  
With every Minute you do change a Mind,  
And call him Noble, that was now your Hate;  
Him Vile, that was your Garland: What's the Matter,  
That in these several Places of the City,  
You Cry against the Noble Senate, who  
Under the Gods keep you in Awe; who else  
Like Beasts of Prey, would Feed on one another.  
What's their seeking?  Men. 
For Corn at their own Rates, with which they say,  
The City is well Stored.  Mart. 
They say! Hang 'em;  
They'll sit by th' Fire, and take on 'em to know  
What's done i'th' Capitol: They say there's Grain enough;  
Would the Nobility lay aside their Patience,  
And let me use my Sword, I'd make a Quarry  
With Thousands of these Quartered Slaves, as high  
As their own Capitol.  Men. 
Nay, these are almost throughly persuaded;  
For though abundantly they lack Discretion,  
Yet they are passing Cowardly; but I pray you,  
What says the other Troop?  Mart. 
Burn 'em, the Herd are Scattered;  
They said they were a Hungry, Sighed forth Proverbs,  
That Hunger broke Stonewalls, that Dogs must Eat,  
That Meat was made for Mouths, that the Gods sent not  
Corn for the Rich Men only; with these Shreds  
They Vented their Complaints; which being Answered,  
And a Petition Granted them, A strange one  
To break the Heart of Power: they threw their Caps up;  
As they would Hang 'em on the Horns o'th' Moon.  Men. 
What's Granted 'em?  Mart. 
Four Tribunes (to Defend their vulgar Wisdoms)  
Of their own Choosing; Brutus, Cornicius, Sicinius, Bethellsus:  
The Rabble should have first Unrooft the City,  
‛ Ere so prevailed with me; it will in time  
Confound the Senate: Get you Home you Fragments.  Enter Decius. Dec. 
Most Noble Martius,  
The Senate makes you here next Substitute  
To our General Comminius, in the Place  
Of Lartius, for the present Wars  
Against the Volsces.  Men. 
A Charge that you have Sighed for;  
Yet still you seem Disturbed.  Mart. 
My Task is with their City, whilst Cominius  
Engages their Field-Forces.  Men. 
What of that?  Mart. 
Tullus Aufidius, there is to be found,  
My Rival once, still most inveterate Foe:  
Were half to half the World Engaged, and He  
Upon my Party, I'd Revolt, to make  
My Wars only with him: He is a Lion  
That I am Proud to Hunt: Menenius, Thou  
Shalt see me once more Strike at Tullus Face.  
What, Art thou stiff? Stand'st out?  Men. 
No Caius Martius,  
I'll Lean upon one Crutch, and Fight with tother,  
‛ Ere Lag behind this Business.  Mart. 
One Word my Fellow-Citizens.  1 Cit 
No good I warrant it.  Mart. 
You shall have Corn enough, on Martius' Word you shall.  1 Cit 
Why? Look you there now, I always said we were  
Mistaken in this Man.  All. 
A Martius, a Martius', etc.  1 Cit 
As how, most Noble Martius?  Mart. 
Lartius is Dead, and I'm Employed by the Senate  
To Storm the Volsces City; there is Store  
Of Richest Grain: Follow me, All is yours.  [Hear the Citizens Steal away severally. 
See now, if these vile Rats dare go to knaw  
The Enemy's Garners: Here comes Two of their Tribunes.  
Let us Bequeath 'em this Infected Ground.  
Come, let's to Horse.  Men. 
Will you not Home first, and take short Leave  
Of your Dear Wife, and Honoured Mother?  Mart. 
My Charge is speedy, womens' Farewel's Tedious:  
Stay thou Menenius to perform for me  
That Office; I'll away upon the Spur,  
And Reach my Troops'ere the Sun Wash his Steeds.  [Exit. Men. 
The Gods Preserve you.  As they go off, the Tribunes, Scicinius, and Brutus meet them, they pass by (Disdaining) each other. Sic. 
Was ever Man so Proud as is this Martius?  Bru. 
He has no Equal.  Sic. 
When we were Chosen Tribunes for the People,  
What Indignation Sparkled from his Eyes?  Bru. 
Success i'th' present Wars, will swell his Spirits,  
Above his Mother's Haughtiness, which he  
Retains, as she had Nursed him with her Blood.  Sic. 
Hark, hark! The People's Murmurs are not ceased,  
Tho much they Build on their New Tribunes Power.  
Come, let us hasten to Apply ourselves,  
And Work upon their Fury ere it Cools.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE II. A Palace.  Enter Volumnia and Virginia. Vol. 
Prithee Vergilia spare those feeble Tears,  
Which I must Blame in any that belongs  
To Caius Martius, though his Tender Babe,  
That had no other Language; Learn of me  
That blessed the Absence, gave my Lord his Honour,  
More than the calm Peace, that gave me his Love.  
This Martius, this thy Loved, Lamented Husband,  
When of my Widowed Years, the only Son;  
When Tender-bodyed, and so Fresh a Bloom  
Adorned his Cheek, as drew and sixt all Eyes,  
When at a King's Entreaty, the Fond Mother,  
Not Half an Hour would Sell him from her Sight;  
I Weighing then, how Honour would become  
So promising an Excellence, dismissed him,  
To seek out Danger, where he might find Fame.  
To a Cruel War I sent him, where he Fleshed  
His Youthful Sword; and to my Arms returned,  
Laden with bloody Bays: I tell thee Daughter,  
I sprung not with more Joy, to find my Pains,  
Had to the World Restored his Father's Image:  
Then first to find him, March his Father's Fame.  Virg. 
But had he Died in the Adventure?  Vol. 
Then—  
His Glory should have been my Darling Son:  
Now by Minerva, had the Indulgent Gods  
Blessed me with Twenty Sons, as much Beloved  
As my brave Martius; I had rather Lose them All  
In Chase of Glory, and their Country's Cause,  
Than One, i'th' Surfeit of voluptuous Peace.  Virg. 
Excuse my Tenderness, that Wishes still  
For Peace and Martius: What's this Monster Country,  
That must be Fed with my Dear Martius Blood?  
If this Unnatural Mother still must prey  
On her own Offspring, let her take her Rabble;  
The Vermin-Crowd my Martius so Abhors. *  Enter A Servant. Seru. 
Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to Visit you.  Virg. 
Let me Retire from her Impertinence;  
A heavier Burden than the Grief I bear.  Vol. 
Not now Virginia, she'll divert you: Oh!  
Methinks I hither Hear thy Husband's Drum;  
See him Dismount Aufidius; all the Volsces  
Wide Shunning him, as Children from a Tiger:  
Methinks I see him Frown, and hear him Call,  
Come on ye Cowards; you were got in Fear,  
Tho you were Born in Rome: His bloody Brow—  Virg. 
His bloody Brow? The Gods Defend!— No Blood.  Vol. 
Away Fond Girl; it more becomes a Man,  
Then Gold his Arms; the Breasts of Hecula,  
When she gave Suck to Hector, looked not Lovelier,  
Than Hector's Forehead, when besmeared with Blood.  
Go, Bring Valeria in.  Virg. 
Heavens Bless my Lord from fierce Aufidius.  Vol. 
No more such Folly,  
He'll Strike Aufidius Head below his Knee,  
And Tread upon his Neck.  Enter Valeria, Gawdtly and Fantastically Dressed, followed by Six or Seven Pages. Val. 
Morrow Ladies, good Morrow.  Vol. 
I am glad to see your Ladyship.  Val. 
Your Ladyship's most Eternal— Well, you are the most manifest Housekeepers! Come, you do your Beauties wrong, the Suburra wrong, the Forum wrong, the Cirque, the whole Youth of Rome.  Vol. 
We leave that Triumph Madam to your Sovereign Charms.  Val. 
And do I look Sovereignly Madam? Indeed I think my Enemies will Grant me That; but I bear not upon't: I am Ambitious only of the Graces of the Mind, the Intellectuals, and despise those vain Allurements of Dress and Face— but do I look Sovereignly Madam?  Vol. 
Most Irresistably!  Val. 
And what my Dear, Eternally in Tears?  [To Virgilia. 
Come, I must have you Read Philosophy; better Live in Apathy, as the Stoics say, then have such tender Sense of Things:— pray Madam, what does your Ladyship think of the Stoics.  [Too Vol. Vol. 
As of the Noblest Sect.  Val. 
Come, I must have you Forth with me: I have some Nineteen Visits to make, and all of 'em old Debts upon my Honour: Well, I'll Swear there's an intolerable deal of Patience required to common Civility: Because an impertinent Lady comes and teazes me three Hours at my House to Day, therefore I must go to be teazed three more at her House to Morrow; I Swear 'tis most Unreasonable. How I wish myself at Athens again! We had no such Doings at Athens; no idle Chat of Tires and Fans, but of Secrets in Nature, and stiff Points of Philosophy— but Rome at Rome; Come, come away.  Virg. 
By no means Madam, I'll not out of Doors.  Val. 
O you Confine yourself most Unreasonably; your Thoughts now are with your Lord at Corioles; trouble not yourself, I shall give you Intelligence of his Affairs; I have it always an Hour before the Senate: Well, Intelligence is a fine thing! It costs me the Gods know what in Foreign Correspondence from Sicily, Sardinia, Rhetia, Aquitain, Crete, Cyprus, Lydia, Ephesus, Dalmatia, Thrace, Pontus; the Hetrusci make no Motion, but by my Advice: Nay, our own General Cominius, is glad to keep Touch with me: Not an Officer of Note in the Camp, but sends me News or Love. Come hither Page— look Madam, pray Madam observe, this is my last Days Post, and the lightest Packet has come this two Months; Fie, fie, up with'em, I am ashamed on't.  Vol. 
But does your Ladyship Answer all These?  Val. 
Some of 'em I never peruse, and those are your Gallantry Epistles: I know all those Hands with half an Eye; there's Titus Decius, Cajus Proculus, Marcus Flavius, Publius Cotta; Albinus, Sesinna, Graculus, Phocus, Linus, Tucca, Rufus, Faesula; with a Legion more, that are All unsealed in the Fire! I Swear I am a cruel Creature! But 'tis my Way Madam.  Virg. 
Eternal Torturer!— By your Leave Madam.  Val. 
Nay, I am just upon the Wing too; my Chair there, What? No Attendance in this World? Well, of all things in Nature, I love Dispatch; and yet I Swear I could stay with your Ladyships Eternally— but your Ladyships will Excuse me upon Business; not but that I'd leave any Thing for your Ladyship's Company— your Ladyships will pardon my Hast, for I Swear I am in Hast most inordinately.  [Exit.  

SCENE III.  Coriolanus and Decius before the Walls of Corioles. Mart. 
HOw far off Lie these Armies?  Dec. 
Scarce half a League.  Mart. 
Then we shall hear their 'larum, and they ours.  
Now Fire-eyed Mars make us but quick in Work,  
That we with reeking Swords may March from hence  
To Help our Fielded Friends; Come Blow the Blast.  A Parley, the Senators Appear on the Walls. 
Tullus Aufidius, Is he within the Walls?  Sen. 
No, nor a Man that Fears you less than he.  
Hark how our Drums call forth our Youths; our Gates  
With yet seem shut, we have but pinned with Rushes;  
They'll open of themselves: Hark, to the Field,  
There is Aufidius; list what Work he makes  
Amongst your broken Army.  Mart. 
Oh they are at it!  
Their Noise be our Instruction; Ladders ho!  
They Fear us not, but Issue from their City.  
Now Plant your Shields before your Hearts, and Fight  
With Hearts more Proof than Shields. Advance brave Decius,  
They Disdain us much beyond our Thoughts,  
Which makes me Sweat with Rage: Come on my Fellows,  
He that retires, I'll take him for a Volsce,  
And he shall Feel my Sword.  Alarum; The Romans beat back to their Trenches, Re-enter Martius Cursing. 
All the Contagion of the South light on you,  
You shames of Rome, now Botches, Boils, and Plagues  
Crust you all o'er, that you may be Abhorred,  
Further than seen; you Souls of Daws and Geese,  
That bear the Shapes of Men; how have you run  
From Slaves, that Apes would beat, Pluto and Hell?  
All hurt behind, Backs red, and Faces pale,  
Mend, and Charge Home,  
Or by the Fires of Heaven, I'll leave the Foe,  
And make my Wars on you; look to't; come on.  [Alarum again. 
So, now the Gates are Open, now prove good Seconds,  
'Tis for the Follower's Fortune, not the Flyers:  
Mark me, and do the like.  [Martius, with a few follows them to the Gates, and is shut in. 1 Sol. 
Fool hardiness? not I.  2 Sol. 
Nor I.  1 Sol. 
See, they, they have shut 'em in.  All. 
To th' Pot, I warrant 'em.  Alarm continueth, Re-enter Martius with his Party, as having Forced their Way through the City; his Followers with Spoils. 1 Rom. 
This will I Carry to Rome.  2 Rom. 
And I This.  3 Rom. 
A Murrain on't, I took This for Silver.  Mart. 
See here these Pismires, that do Prize their Labours  
At a cracked Drachma, Cush'ons, Leaden Spoons;  
Old Scraps of Iron, Doublets, that Hangmen would  
Bury with those that Wore 'em; these vile Slaves,  
ere yet the Fight be done, Pack up; down with them,  
And Hark what Noise the General makes; let's to Him,  
There is the Man of my Souls Hate, Aufidius  
Piercing our Romans; Valiant Decius, take  
Convenient Numbers to make Good the City,  
Whilst I with those that have the Spirit, will Hast  
To Help Comminius.  Dec. 
You Bleed apace My Lord;  
Your Exercise has been too Violent,  
For a Second Course of Fight.  Mart. 
Sir, Praise me not;  
My Work has yet not Warmed me; Fare you well:  
The Blood I Drop, is rather Physical,  
Than Dangerous to me: to Aufidius thus  
Will I Appear, and Dare him to my Sword.  [Exit. Severally.  

SCENE Changes to a Camp or Field, an Alarum.  Cominius and Aufidius, are seen Engaging each Other, with their Parties: Cominius is Beaten off; Martius with his Soldiers Enters Hastily on the other Side. Mart. 
Turn, turn Aufidius, this Way lies your Game:  
I'll Fight with None but Thee; for I do Hate Thee  
Worse, than a Promise breaker.  Auf. 
No Hate lost;  
Not afric Breeds a Serpent I Abhor,  
More than thy Fame and Thee: Here fix thy Foot.  Mart. 
Let the first Starter die the other's Slave,  
And the God's Toom him after.  Auf. 
If I Fly Martius, holloo me like a Hare.  Mart. 
Within these three Hours Tullus,  
I Fought within the Walls of your Corioles,  
And made what Work I Pleased; 'tis not my Blood,  
Thou seest me Smeared with, 'tis thy Dearest Kindred.  
Take That to Work thy Fury to the Height;  
For I would have thee Warm.  Auf. 
Wert Thou the Hector  
That was the Whip of thy feigned Progeny,  
Thou shouldst not Pass this Munite.  Alarum: They Fight off; after which, a Retreat Sounded: Re-enter Martius and Cominius, at several Doors. Com. 
Come to my Arms most Noble Martius,  
If I should tell thee o'er this thy days Work,  
Thou'lt not believe thy Deeds; but I'll Report 'em,  
Where Senators shall mingle Smiles with Tears;  
Where Ladies shall Express a fearful Joy:  
Where the Dull Tribunes that do Hate thy Honours,  
Shall Cry against their Hearts, we Thank the Gods,  
That Rome has such a Soldier.  Mart. 
Beseech ye Sir no more:  
My Mother that has Privilege to Extol  
Her Blood; when She does Praise me, Grieves me.  Com. 
You shall not be the Grave of your Deserts;  
For Rome must know the Value of Her Own:  
'Twere a Concealment worse than Sacrilege.  
Therefore, before our Army you must Hear me.  Mart. 
I have some Wounds upon me, and they Smart,  
To Hear themselves Remembered.  Com. 
Of all the fiery Steeds, and goodliest Treasure,  
We have taken from the City and the Field,  
We Offer you the Tenth, to be ta'en forth,  
Before the Common Distribution;  
Choose for thyself.  Mart. 
I Thank my General,  
But cannot make my Heart Consent, to take  
A Bribe to pay my Sword; I do Refuse it,  
And stand upon my common Share, with Those  
That Joined with me in Fight.  A Flourish, All Wave their Swords, and Cry Martius, Martius. 
May these same Instruments which you Profane,  
Never Sound more; when Drums and Trumpets shall  
I'th' Field turn Flatterers, then let Courts be Honest:  
No more I say.  Com. 
You are Unjust to your own Merits Martius,  
And we must see 'em Righted; be it therefore known  
To all the World, that Caius Martius  
Wears this War's Garland; and in Token of it,  
My Warlike Steed (known to the Camp) I give Him,  
With all his Golden Trappings; and henceforth,  
For what He did before Corioles, call Him,  
With all th' Applause of our Victorious Camp,  
Caius Martius' Coriolanus.  Trumpets, drum's, and Shouts again. Mart 
I will go Wash, and then you shall Perceive,  
Whether I Blush or no.  Com. 
So to our Tent,  
Where 'ere we do Repose us, we will Write  
To Rome of our Success; you Attalus  
Must to Corioles back with our Commands.  Mart. 
The Gods begin to Mock me, I  
That now Refused most Princely Gifts, am Bound  
To Beg of my Lord General.  Com. 
Speak and Take.  Mart. 
I sometime Lay here in Corioles.  
At a poor Old Man's House, he used me Kindly;  
I'th' Fight I saw him Prisoner, he Cried to me:  
But then Ausidius was within my View,  
And Rage o'er came my Pity: I Beseech you  
To give my poor Ost Freedom.  Com. 
Noble still:  
Were he the Butcher of my Son, he should  
Be Free, as is the Wind.  Cor. 
I'll Find him out.  
Now let us Sacrifice to th' Gods, and Pray  
For many Rival Days, to This on Rome;  
Then Yield our Pious Rites, to our Slain Friends;  
That done, to gen'ral Mirth our Legions Sound,  
Our Laboured Brows with Bays, and Myrtle Crowned,  
And make with Genial Wine, our emptied Veins Abound.  [Exeunt.   

ACT the Second.  

FLOURISH.  Enter Coriolanus in Triumph, met by the Nobility and Commons of Rome. Cor. 
NO more of This, it does Offend my Ears;  
No More I Pray.  Com. 
Look Sir, your Wife and Honoured Mother.  Enter Volumnia, and Virgilia. Cor. 
Oh Madam! By the Event I know you have  
Petitioned All the Gods on my Behalf;  
And next the Gods, I pay you thus my Duty.  Vol. 
Nay my good Soldier Rise,  
My Valiant Caius, Worthy Coriolanus;  
Not Thee this Pomp, but Thou Adorn'st thy Triumph:  
What now Virgilia?  Cor. 
Oh my tender Dove!  
My gentle Silence hail; What Means this Dew?  
Wouldst thou have Laughed, had I come Coffined Home,  
That Weep'st to see me Triumph: Ah! My Love,  
Such Eyes the Widows in Corioles Wear,  
And Mothers that Lack Sons.  Virg. 
Ah my Dear Lord, What Means that Dismal Scarf?  
My Joy lies folded There!  Vol. 
I know not where to Turn;  
Oh! Welcome General, most welcome All:  
Now from this Starry Seat, Quirinus Smiles.  Men. 
Ten Thousand Welcomes; welcome All:  
A Curse begin at very Roots on's Heart,  
That is not Glad to See you; yet have we  
Some base Repiners at this Joy; No matter,  
We call a Nettle but a Nettle, and  
The Faults of Fools but Folly.  Cor. 
The same Menenius ever.  Com. 
Blunt and Honest, Lead.  Cor. 
Your Hand and Yours:  
Yet ere in our own House, I shade my Head,  
The good Patricians must be Waited on;  
I had rather be Their Servant in my Way,  
Than Rule with them in Theirs.  Com. 
On to the Capitol.  [Exeunt. Manent Tribunes. Bru. 
All Tongues speak of Him, and the feeble Sights  
Are Spectacled to see Him: Prattling Nurses,  
Into a Rupture let their Infants Cry,  
Chatting of Him; the dowdy Maukin pin's  
Her Lockrum on, and clambers Walls to View him:  
Stalls, Gall'ries, Windows, All are Smothered up,  
Leads Filled, and Ridges Horsed: The Reverend Falmens  
Amongst the Crowd, Press for a Vulgar Station,  
As at the Approach of some Descended God,  
He cannot Temperat'ly bear his Honours;  
But will himself Destroy what he has Wone.  Sic. 
There Rests our Hope,  
Doubt not the Commoners, for whom we stand,  
Upon their ancient Malice will forget,  
On the least Cause, his most Applauded Service.  Bru. 
I heard him Swear, were he to Stand for Consul,  
He never would Appear i'th' Market place,  
In the vile Garment of Humility;  
And showing (as the Custom is) his Wounds  
To th' People, nor would Beg their stinking Breathes.  Sic. 
It was his Word:  
I Wish no Better, than to have him hold  
That Purpose.  Bru. 
We must Suggest to th' People, in what Hatred  
He still has Held 'em: That to his Power, he would  
Have made 'em Mules, and Silenced Us, their Pleaders;  
That he Esteems no better of 'em, than  
As Camels of the War, that have their Provender  
For bearing Burdens, Blows for Sinking under 'em.  Sic. 
This (as you say) Suggested  
At some Time, when his soaring Insolence  
Shall Fret the People, which will surely happen,  
If he be put upon't; and That's as easy,  
As to set Dogs at Sheep; he bears the Fire  
To kindle their dry Stubble, and the Blaze  
Shall Darken him for Ever.  Bru. 
His Power, or Ours, must Sleep: Away to the Capitol.  [Exeunt. Scene Opening, shows the Senate sitting in the Capitol; Coriolanus in a White Robe, as Candidate for the Consulship. 1 Sen. 
Sit Coriolanus, never Blush to Hear  
What You have Nobly done.  Cor. 
Your Honour's Pardon,  
I had rather have my Wounds to Heal again,  
Than Hear say, how I got 'em.  Bru. 
I Hope my Lord, my Words have not Displaced you.  Cor. 
No Sir; yet oft,  
When Blows have made me stay, I have Fled from Words:  
You did not Flatter me;  
Therefore could not Displease me; but Your People,  
I Love 'em as they Weigh—  [Exit. Com. 
The Deeds of Coriolanus, Honoured Fathers,  
Should not be Feebly spoke; and Breath would Fail me  
To tell the Half: If Valour be with Romans,  
The Chiefest Virtue, Martius has no Equal:  
When Tarquin first made Head; at Sixteen Years,  
He Fought for Rome's Dear Freedom, and Bestride  
An'ore pressed Roman, in the Consul's Sight;  
Slew Three Opposers, Tarquin's self Encountered,  
And Struck Him on his Knee; in that Days Toil,  
When He might Act a Woman in the Scene,  
He proved Best Man o'th' Field; and for his Service,  
Was Crowned before the Camp: Grown up to Strength,  
The Matchless Youth, proved yet more Wondrous Man;  
And in the Brunt of Seventeen Battles since  
Monopolised the Garland; for this last,  
Before, and in, Corioles:  
I cannot Speak him Home; He stopped the Flyers,  
And by his Rare Example made the Coward,  
Turn Terror into Sport; his Sword, Death's Stamp,  
Where it did Fall, it took from Face to Foot:  
He was a Thing of Blood; almost alone  
He Forced Corioles, came Aidless off,  
And Leading, Waiting Death, from Town to Camp:  
He Gave no Respite to his Panting Breast,  
Till we could Call both Field and City Ours.  1 Sen. 
We Yield him Worthy of the Consulship:  
Summon Him in.  Com. 
Be pleased to Hear  
What yet Exceeds all this; Our Spoils He Slighted,  
And Looked on the Seized Treasures, as they were  
The common Muck o'th' World; he Covets less,  
Than Misery itself would give, Rewards  
His Deeds with doing 'em, Accounts 'em only  
As Pledges of more Services to come.  1 Sen. 
Summon Him in.  Enter Coriolanus Men. 
The Senate Coriolanus are well Pleased  
To make Thee Consul.  Cor. 
I owe 'em still my Life and Services.  Men. 
It now Remains, that you Bespeak the People.  Cor. 
I do Beseech your Honours  
Let me o're-Leap that Custom, for I cannot  
Put on the Gown, stand Public, and Entreat 'em  
For my Wounds sake, to give their Suffrages;  
Please you that I may pass this Ceremony.  Bru. 
The Custom may in no wise be infringed.  Sic. 
The People's Liberties Depend upon't,  
And no particular must be Dispensed with.  Men. 
We do Solicit from your Spleens no Favour,  
Put 'em not to't, my Lord, but stoop to th' Custom,  
And take t' you, as your Predecessors have,  
This Dear-bought Honour, with the usual Forms.  Cor. 
It is a Part, that I shall Blush in Acting;  
Methinks the People well might spare this Method;  
Better Constrained to do it.  Sic. 
Mark you That?  Cor. 
To Brag to 'em, that I did Thus and Thus,  
Show 'em unaking Scars, which I should Hide,  
As if I had Received 'em for the Hire  
Of their vile Breath!  Men. 
Pray do not stand upon't.  1 Sen. 
Tribunes by You, we Recommend to the People,  
Our Noble Choice, and to our worthy Consul,  
We Wish all Joy and Honour. Call the Lictors,  
And Bid the Fasces move.  [Exeunt. Sic. 
You see how he intends to Treat the Commons.  Bru. 
May they perceive's Intent; He'll Beg of 'em,  
As if he did Contemn, what he Requested,  
And Scorn the Givers.  Sic. 
We'll Inform 'em so;  
Let's Hasten to the Forum, where I know,  
They Wait Us with Impatience.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE the Street.  Enter the Citizens in vast Number. 1 Cit 
Well Neighbours, for once (if he Require our Voices) we ought not to Deny him.  2 Cit 
We may Sir, if we will.  1 Cit 
I Grant you, we have a Power in ourselves to do it; but it is such a Power, as we have no Power to do: For if he show us his Wounds, we are likewise to show our Feeling of those Wounds; so if he tells us his Noble Deeds, we must also tell him our Noble Acceptance of 'em: Ingratitude is Monstrous, and for the Multitude to be Ingrateful, were to make a Monster of the Multitude, of which, we being Members, should bring ourselves to be Monstrous Members.  2 Cit 
Right; so, when we stood up once about the Corn, he himself stuck not to Call us the Many-headed Multitude.  1 Cit 
We have been called so of Many. Well, we are All Resolved (the greater Part of Us) to give him our Voices. If he Loved the People, there never was a Worthier Man; therefore, he shall have your Voices?  All. 
All, all, all,  1 Cit 
But look you, to my Knowledge he Hates the People,  
And therefore you All Deny him your Voices?  All. 
All, all, all, etc.  Enter Coriolanus, in the Robe of Humility, Menenius with him. 1 Cit 
Look, here he comes in the Robe of Humility: Mark his Behaviour; Observe me Neighbours, we are not to Advance altogether; but to come to him where he stands, by One's, by Two's, and by Three's; then is he to make his Request by Particulars, wherein every one of us has a single Honour, in giving Him our own Voices, with our own Tongues; therefore follow me, and I'll show you the Trick on't.  All. 
Content, content.  Men. 
Oh! Sir, you are not Right in this, you know  
The Worthiest Men have done't.  Cor. 
What must I say? I pray Sir? Plague upon't,  
I cannot bring my Tongue to such Tune:  
Look Sir, my Wounds  
I got 'em in my Countries Service, when  
Some Certain of your Brethren Roared, and Ran  
From the Noise of our own Drums.  Men. 
O Gods! You must not speak of this,  
You must Desire 'em Sir, to Think upon you.  Cor. 
Think on me? Hang 'em,  
I would they would Forget me, like their Prayers.  Men. 
You will Marr All; I'll leave you;  
Beseech you speak to 'em in the Mildest manner.  Cor. 
Hell! Bid 'em Wash their Faces,  
And keep their Teeth Clean: so, here comes a Brace;  
You know the Cause Sir of my standing here.  1 Cit 
We do Sir; therefore Desire you tell us what brought you hither.  Cor. 
My own Desert.  2 Cit 
Your own Desert!  Cor. 
But not my own Desire.  3 Cit 
How! Not your own Desire.  Cor. 
No Sir,  
It never yet was my Desire to Trouble  
The Poor with Begging.  1 Cit 
You must think Sir, if we give you any thing, it is in  
Hope to Gain by you.  Cor. 
Well, Then your Price o'th' Consulship?  1 Cit 
The Price is, to Ask it Kindly.  Cor. 
Then Kind Sir, let me have it, I have Wounds to show,  
Which shall be yours in Private: Your good Voice Sir,  
What say You?  2 Cit 
You have it Worthy Sir.  Cor. 
A Match Sir; so, There's in All, two Worthy Voices  
Begged; I have your Alms, Adieu.  Enter Two more. Cor. 
Pray now, If it may stand with the Tune of your good  
Voices, that I may be Consul? I have here the Customary  
Gown.  3 Cit 
You have Deserved Nobly of your Country, and you have not Deserved Nobly.  Cor. 
Your Enigma?  3 Cit 
You have been a Scourge to Her Enemies, and a Rod to Her Friends: You Hate the People.  Cor. 
You should Account me the more Virtuous for't,  
That I have not been Common in my Love.  
Therefore let me be Consul.  4 Cit 
Well, We Hope to find you our Friend yet; and therefore give you our Voices.  Cor. 
Agreed Sir, better 'tis to Die, to Starve,  
Than Beg the Hire, for which we first did Serve:  
This Imposition is by Custom laid;  
Must Custom then in All things be Obeyed?  
The Dust on Antique Time, would lie Unswept,  
And Mountains Error, be too highly Heaped  
For Truth t' ore-peer; rather than Fool it so,  
Let the High Office, and the Honour go  
To one could bear This— yet am I half through.  
Here come more Judges.  Two more come forward. 
Your Voices; for your Voices have I Fought;  
Watched for your Voices; for your Voices bear,  
Of Wounds Two Dozen Odd: have for your Voices  
Done many Things, some more, some less;  
Your Voices then: Indeed I would be Consul.  5 Cit 
The Truth is, You have Behaved yourself, as I should have done in the same Place; and therefore you shall have my Voice, as I would Expect it myself.  6 Cit 
Heaven Bless our Noble Consul.  [Exeunt. Cor. 
Precious Voters.  Enter Menenius, with Brutus and Sicinius. Men. 
You have stood your Limitation, and the Tribunes  
Endue you with the People's Choice.  
It now remains, that in Robes of Honour,  
You Wait upon the Senate.  Cor. 
Is this done?  Sic. 
The Custom of Request you have Discharged;  
The People do Admit you, and are Summoned  
To Meet Anon upon your Approbation.  Cor. 
Where? at the Senate House.  Bru. 
There Coriolanus.  Cor. 
Then I may Shift these Garments?  Sic. 
You may Sir.  Cor. 
Good, then I'll Know myself again,  
And hast to the Capitol.  Men. 
I'll bear you Company; will you along.  Sic. 
We stay here to Dismiss the People.  [Ex. Cor. Men. 
He has it now, and by his Looks, Methinks  
'Tis Warm at's Heart.  Bru. 
With a Proud Heart, He Wore his humble Weeds:  
Will you Dismiss the Crowed.  Enter the Plebeians. Sic. 
How now my Masters, have you Chose this Man.  1 Cit 
He has our Voices Sir.  Bru. 
We Pray the Gods He may Deserve your Kindness.  1 Cit 
The Gods, and We, are Agreed about that Matter already:  
You say He's Proud. I say He called me Sir, and Carried himself  
Like a most Civil Gentleman.  2 Cit 
To my Thinking, he Flouted us downright.  1 Cit 
It is his kind of Speech, he has a Scurvy handsome Way with him, that's the Truth on't.  Sic. 
He showed You too, his Marks of Merit, Wounds  
Received for's Country.  1 Cit 
He did so; I remember All, as well as the Wart on my  
Nose.  2 All. 
No, no, no Man saw 'em.  1 Cit 
Right, now I Remember better, I saw never a One of 'em: The Gods send he have Any, I say: he said he Wounds for us, I think some Eight or Ten Dozen; and Waving his Hand thus in Scorn, I would be Consul, says he, and Custom will not let me, but by your Voices; I have need at present of your Voices; therefore let me have your Voices: which when we Granted, I Thank you for'em (quoth he) and now you have left your Voices, I have no further with you. And he's the dullest Rogue in Rome, that could not find This to be mere Mockery.  Bru. 
Why then were you so Stupid not to see't;  
Or seeing it, so Senseless to Approve Him?  Sic. 
Could you not have told him,  
As we had Taught you; That when he had no Power,  
But was a petty Servant to the State:  
He was your Enemy, and ever spoke against  
The Liberties and Charters, that you bear  
I'th' Commonwealth; and being now Arrived  
To a Place of Power and Sway, if he should still  
Maligna'ntly Remain your Foe;  
Your Voices would be Curses to yourselves.  1 Cit 
ay, so I told 'em, but their Hearts were as Hard as their  
Forehead.  Bru. 
Thus to have said, as you were Fore-instructed,  
Had Touched his Spirit, and Tried his Inclination:  
Had either Forced from him a gracious Promise,  
Which you might afterwards have Held him to,  
Or else it would have Galled his surly Nature:  
And to such angry Mood Enraged him, that  
You might have took Advantage of his Passion,  
And passed him Unelected.  1 Cit 
I Told 'em that too. Well, He's not Confirmed, and we may Deny him yet.  2 Cit 
And will Deny him:  
I have Five Hundred Voters of that Sound.  1 Cit 
ay, Twice Five Hundred, with their Friends to Back'em.  Bru. 
Get you Hence Instantly, and tell those Friends,  
They have Chose a Consul that will take from 'em  
Their Liberties; make 'em of no more Voice  
Than Dogs, that often are for Barking beaten,  
Yet only Kept to Bark.  Sic. 
Assemble therefore on a safer Judgement,  
And All Revoke your Ignorant Election;  
Enforce his Pride to show his Hate; Forget not  
With what Contempt he Wore the Customed Robe:  
And Lastly, Lay the Fault on us your Tribunes.  Bru. 
ay, Spare us not,  
Say any thing whereby you may Revoke your sudden Choice;  
And then, as soon as you have Drawn your Number,  
Repair to the Capitol.  All. 
We will so.  1 Cit 
And rather than Fail, we'll Swear every Man of us, we never gave him our Consent. Away, away.  [Exeunt. Bru. 
Let 'em go on;  
This Mutiny were better put in Hazzard,  
Than Run a greater, and more certain Mischief:  
If (as he surely will) he fall in Rage  
With their Refusal, we'll be close at Hand,  
To watch th' Advantage his blind Fury yields;  
And from his own Spleen, work a Snare to Hold him.  [Exeunt.   

ACT the Third.  Coriolanus in the Consul's Robes, Cominius, Menenius, with the Nobles; Met by the Tribunes, Sicinius, and Brutus, and the Plebeians. Sic. 
BAck, pass no further.  Cor. 
Ha! What's That?  Bru. 
It will be Dangerous to go on; no Further.  Cor. 
What makes this Change?  Com. 
Has he not past the Nobles, and the Commons?  Bru. 
Cominius, No.  Cor. 
Have I had children's Voices?  Men. 
Tribunes give way.  Sic. 
The People are incensed against him.  Cor. 
Are these your Herd?  
Must these have Voices? That can yield 'em now,  
And straight Disclaim their Tongues! What are your Offices?  
You are their Mouths, Why Rule you not their Teeth?  
Have you not set 'em On?  Men. 
Be Calm, be calm.  Cor. 
It is a purposed business, a mere Plot  
To Curb the Power of the Nobility:  
Bear it, and Live with such as cannot Rule,  
And never will be Ruled.  Bru. 
Call't not a Plot;  
The People say you Mocked 'em, and of late,  
When Corn was given 'em Gratis, you Repined.  Cor. 
Was not this known before.  Sic. 
Not to 'em All.  Cor. 
Have you Informed 'em since? Fire! Plagues! This Practice  
Becomes not Rome, nor has Coriolanus  
Deserved this Usage; I must tell you Friends,  
In Suffering this, we Nourish 'gainst the Senate  
Sedition and Rebellion; thus They are Thanked  
For what they have, given to Beggars.  Sic. 
You speak o'th' People, as you were a God  
To Punish, not a Man of their Infirmity.  Bru. 
It were most fit we let the People know't.  Men. 
What, what? 'Tis but his Choler.  Cor. 
Choler.  
Were I as Patient as the Midnight Sleep,  
By Jove 'twould be my Mind.  Sic. 
It is a Mind that shall retain its Venom,  
Not Poison any Further.  Cor. 
Shall Retain;  
Hear you this Triton of the Minews, mark you  
His absolute Shall?  Com. 
Well; On to th' Marketplace.  Cor. 
Whoever gave that Council, to give out  
The Corn o'th' Store-House Gratis, Fed Sedition,  
And the State's Ruin.  Bru. 
Why should the People give  
One that speaks thus their Voice.  Cor. 
I'll give my Reasons,  
More Worthy than their Voices: Pressed to th' War,  
They would not pass their Gates; this kind of Service  
Did not deserve Corn Gratis; being i'th' War,  
Their only Valour was in Mutiny,  
In Faction only Bold; Nobles pluck out at once,  
The Multitudinous Tongue, nor let 'em lick  
The Sweet that is their Poison.  Sic. 
He has said enough.  Bru. 
He has spoken like a Traitor, and shall Answer  
As Traitors do.  Cor. 
Misereant, Despite overwhelm thee;  
What should the People do with these Bald Tribunes,  
That make 'em fail their Duty to the Bench?  
Let what is fit take Place, and Throw their Power to th' Dust.  Bru. 
Manifest Treason!  
The Aediles Hoa! Let him be Apprehended.  Cor. 
Away old Goat.  All. 
We'll be his Surety.  Cor. 
Hence rotten Thing, or I shall shake thy Bones  
Out of thy Garments.  Sic. 
Help Citizens.  Men. 
On both sides more Respect.  Bru. 
Here's He would take Away your Liberties.  All. 
Down with him, down with him.  Cor. 
Hark how the whole Kennel Echo to the Cry  
Of this old Brace of Curs! A Poaching pair  
Of Vermine, Fed by the Prey, that others Toil for;  
Spawn of Sedition, and the Spawners of it.  Bru. 
Whom means the Lunatic?  Cor. 
You, Faction-Mongers,  
That wear your formal Beards, and Plotting Heads,  
By the Valour of the Men you Persecute;  
Canting Caballers, that in smoky Cells,  
Amongst Crop-eared Mechanics, waste the Night  
In Villainous Harangues against the State.  
There may Your Worship's Pride be seen t' embrace  
A smutty Tinker, and in ecstasy  
Of Treason, shake a Cobbler be th' Waxed Thumb.  Sic. 
Or let Us stand to Our Authority,  
Or let Us lose it; We do here Pronounce  
Upon the People's Power, this Martius  
Worthy of present Death.  Bru. 
Therefore lay Hold on him,  
Bear him to th' Tarpeian Rock, from whence,  
Into Destruction cast him: Aediles Seize him.  Cor. 
No, I'll Die here;  
There's some among you have beheld me Fight:  
Come, Try upon yourselves.  All. 
Down with him.  [The Nobles draw their Swords. Men. 
Help Martius, Help.  The Tribunes, the Aediles, and People, are Beat off. Com. 
Stand fast, We have as many Friends as Enemies.  Cor. 
Oh! would 't were put to That!  Men. 
The God's forbid;  
Beseech you Noble Sir, Home to your House,  
Leave Us to Cure this Breach.  Com. 
Come Sir, I will along with you.  Cor. 
On fair Ground, I would beat a Legion of 'em.  Com. 
But now 'tis Odds beyond Arithmetic;  
Will you from hence before the Tags return?  Men. 
Pray you be gone;  
I ll try whether my old Wit be in Request,  
With those that have but little.  Com. 
Nay, Come away.  [Exit. Coriolanus, and Cominius. Men. 
Oh! He has Marred his Fortune;  
He would not Flatter Neptune for his Trident,  
Nor Jove for his Power to Thunder.  Sen. 
I would they were a Bed.  [Shout of the Citizens within. Men. 
I would they were i'th' Tiber.  Re-enter Sicinius, and Brutus, with the Rabble. Sic. 
Where is this Viper?  
That would Depopulate the City, and  
Be every Man himself?  Bru. 
He has resisted Law,  
And therefore Law shall scorn him further Trial.  1 Cit 
We'll give him to Understand, that our Noble Tribunes, are the People's Mouths, and we their Hands.  Men. 
Sir, Sir,—  Sic. 
Menenius, you have helped  
To make this Rescue.  Men. 
Hear me Speak,  
As I do know the Consul's Worthyness,  
So I can name his Faults.  Bru. 
What Consul?  Men. 
The Consul Coriolanus.  All. 
No, no, no, he's no Consul.  Men. 
If by the Tribunes leave, and yours good Citizens,  
I may be Heard—  Sic. 
Speak briefly then,  
For know, We have Decreed his certain Death,  
He Dies to Night.  Men. 
Now the Good Gods forbid.  Bru. 
He's a Disease that must be Cut away.  Men. 
O! He's a Limb that has but a Disease,  
Mortal to Cut it off, to Cure it easy:  
What has he done to Rome, that's Worthy Death;  
Most of his Blood is for his Country Shed,  
And what is left, to lose it by his Country—  Sic. 
Wide from the Business:  
When he did Love his Country, It Honoured Him.  Bru. 
Therefore we'll hear no more:  
Pursue him to his House, and pluck him thence,  
Lest his Infection being of Catching nature,  
Spread further.  Men. 
Yet one word more: Beseech ye proceed by Process,  
Lest Parties (as he is beloved) break out,  
And Sack Great Rome with Romans.  Sic. 
If it were so?—  Bru. 
What do you Talk,  
Have we not had a Taste of his Obedience;  
Our Aediles Struck, ourselves Resisted? Come—  Men. 
Consider Sirs, He has been Bred in Wars  
Since he could Draw a Sword, and is ill-schooled  
In soothing Language; Meal and Bran together,  
He Throws without Distinction; give me leave,  
I'll go to him, and bring him t' you in Peace,  
Where he shall Answer by a lawful Form  
Upon his utmost Peril.  Senat. 
Noble Tribunes,  
It is the Worthier way, the other Course  
will prove too Bloody, and the End of it,  
Unknown to the Beginning.  Bru. 
Menenius, then be you the People's Officer.  
Master's lay down your Weapons.  Sic. 
Go not Home.  Bru. 
Meet at the Forum, we'll Attend you there,  
Where, if you bring not Martius, we'll proceed  
In our first Way.  [Exit. Tribunes and People. Men. 
I'll ' gauge my Life upon't,  
Let me desire your Company, we must bring Him,  
Or Worse will follow.  [Exit. Enter Volumnia, met by Valeria, passing by in a Chair. Val. 
Hold, hold, set me down— I Swear Madam, I had almost overseen my good Fortune, and past by your Ladyship.  Vol. 
Your Ladyship's most humble Servant.  Val. 
And upon my Honour, Madam, my Hast is so Violent, and Affairs so Important, that nothing, but the Sight of your Ladyship, should have Stop me: Well, I hear my Lord Coriolanus continues Obstinate; I Love an Obstinate Man most inordinately! Does your Ladyship know, Madam, that I am the greatest Rabble-Hater of my Sex? I think 'em the common Nuisance of the World; there's no Thought, no Science, no Eloquence, no Breeding amongst 'em; and therefore your Ladyship must know, They are my Aversion: For, as to all these Particulars, and to every one of 'em, the Envy of the World must Grant— and your Ladyship knows, the World is most Malicious— I say, the Envy of the World must Grant— O Jupiter! What was, I saying, Madam?  Vol. 
I Beg your Ladyships Pardon, that—  Val. 
Then Madam, there's such Mystery in my Dress! the Wits see Poetry in it, the Soldier's Spirit and Courage, the Mathematicians describe the Spheres in't, and your Geographers, the Terra Incognita: ●●d yet your Ladyship sees 'tis as plain as Nature; no Trim, no Ornament: There's my Lady Galatea, such a fantastical, fulsome Figure, all Curls and Feathers! And besides Madam, she's such an Eternal Talker! Her Tongue's the perpetual Motion, and she affects such hard Words, such an obdurate Phrase, that she exposes herself a public Ludibry to the Universe.  Vol. 
Nay, now Valeria—  [Hear one of the Pages Whisper Valeria. Val. 
How's that? Titus Decius, Cajus Proculus, Marcus Flavius, Publius Cotta; All to Wait on me since I came Forth? Are they not all Banished Men? Have I not Refused, incontinently, to see 'em these three Days together; nay, though they came upon State Affairs: O the Impudence of Mankind! I Swear, a Lady had need look to her Circumstances! Well, I'll to Athens again, incontinently! Boy, tell 'em I shall return at Six precisely— I Swear, Madam, this Love's my Aversion of all things in the World; and yet for the speculative part, I presume, I understand it most Unmeasurably: Trust me, I could Write the Art of Love.  Vol. 
Think you so Madam?  Val. 
As thus; Sometimes to seem, inordinately, Jealous of them; sometimes to make them, inordinately, Jealous of me: to seem Merry when I am Sad; Sad when I am Merry; to Rail at the Dress that becomes me best, and Swear I put it on in Contradiction to Them.  Vol. 
Indeed Madam?  Val. 
O Jupiter! How insensibly the Time runs, whilst your Ladyship is Discoursing; I could hear your Ladyship Discourse all Day— but this Business is the most uncivil Thing— but your Ladyship, and I, shall take a Time: Your Ladyship will excuse my Hast; for I Swear, I am in Hast most inordinately.  [Exit. Enter to Volumnia, Coriolanus, Menenius, Cominius, with the Rest of the Nobles. Cor. 
Let 'em pull All upon my Head, present me  
Death on the Wheel, or at wild Horses Heels;  
Or Pile Ten Hills on the Tarpejan Rock:  
Thus will I bear myself, nor bate a Grain  
Of my firm Temper.  Vol. 
Come, be Milder.  Cor. 
From whence this Change? For Madam, You were wont  
To call the Slaves, Things made to sit Bareheaded  
In the Assembly, and to Yawn and Wonder,  
When any One of my high Rank stood up  
To speak of Peace or War.  
Why do You Wish me Milder? would You have me  
False to my Nature; rather say, I Play  
The Man I am.  Vol. 
O Coriolanus!  
I would have had you put your Power well on,  
‛ Ere you had Worn it out.  Men. 
Come, You have been too Rough;  
You must Return and Mend it:  
There's no Remedy,  
Unless You'll see the City laid in Ashes.  Cor. 
What must I do?  Men. 
Return to the Tribunes.  Cor. 
Well, What then? what then?  Men. 
Repent what You have Spoke.  Cor. 
To them? I cannot do it to the Gods.  Vol. 
You are too Absolute,  
If it be Honour in Your Wars, to seem  
The Thing You are not, for Your Country's Good:  
Why is it less in Peace, when the whole State  
Is set at equal Hazzard? This feigned Compliance  
No more Dishonours You, than to Take in  
A Town with gentle Words, that sets you else  
At Chance, and is at best the Price of Blood;  
I would Dissemble with my Nature, where  
My Fortunes, and my Friends were both at Stake;  
I speak the Voice of All, and am in This,  
Your Wife, Your Son, the Senator's, and Nobles;  
And in a Word, the Life, and Fate of Rome.  Men. 
O most Divinely Urged.  Vol. 
I Pray go to 'em  
With mild Behaviour; for in such a Business,  
Action is Eloquence; and the Eyes o'th' Vulgar,  
More Learned than their Ears: Or say to 'em,  
Thou art their Soldier, and being Bred in Battles,  
Have not the Soft way, which you do Confess,  
Were fit for Thee to Use, as Them to Claim.  Men. 
This but Performed, i'th' manner, she has spoke,  
Their Hearts are Yours; nay, You shall have their Knees.  Enter Cominius. Com. 
I've been i'th' Market Place, and Sir 'tis necessary  
You make Strong Party to Defend yourself,  
Or with fair Language Calm 'em; All's on Fire.  Vol. 
He Must, and Will.  Cor. 
Well, I Comply,  
Yet were there but this single Frame to Lose;  
This Mould of Martius, They to Dust should Grind it,  
And Throw't against the Wind, to th' Marketplace.  
You have put me to a Part, that I shall ne'er  
Discharge to the Life.  Com. 
Come, come, we'll Prompt You.  Cor. 
Away my Disposition, and possess me,  
Some Ev'nuchs' Spirit; and the Virgin Voice,  
That Lulls the Babe Asleep;— I will not do't,  
Lest I desist to Honour my own Truth;  
And by my Body's Action, Teach my Mind,  
A most inherent Baseness.  Vol. 
At thy Choice then:  
To beg of Thee, is more below my Honour,  
Than Thou of them: I stand prepared for Death,  
With Heart as fix as Thine: Destruction come,  
And let Rome's Founder, and the groaning Spirits  
Of all Her Guardians Dead,  
Affright the Elements to see their City,  
With Her own Hands let all Her Vital's Blood:  
The Care of Heaven, and Fate expire in Flames,  
Whilst with a dreadful Joy Her Foes look on;  
And with insulting Smiles Aufidius cries,  
Corioles Ruins sped him with one Name,  
Rome give him now Another.  Cor. 
Oh my Mother!  
Forgive my stubborn Frame! Look, I am going;  
Chide me no more: Oh! You shall see me play  
The very Mountebank; Return beloved  
Of all the Trades in Rome: I'll return Conful,  
Or never trust to what my Tongue can do  
I'th' way of Flattery further.  Vol. 
Do your Will.  [Exit. Com. 
The Tribunes do Attend you, Arm yourself  
To Answer Mildly; for they are prepared  
With grievous Accusations. See, they are come  
To seek us out.  Cor. 
Let 'em Accuse me by Invention, I  
Will Answer in my Honour.  Men. 
ay, but Mildly.  Cor. 
Well, Mildly be it then, Mildly.  Enter Tribunes and Rabble. Sic. 
Draw near my Fellow Citizens.  Aedile. 
List to your Tribunes: Peace.  Cor. 
First hear me speak.  Both Trib. 
Well, say— Peace hoa!  Cor. 
Shall I be Charged no further, than this present?  
Must all determine here?  Bru. 
You must Submit to the People's Voices,  
Allow their Officers, be content to suffer  
Such lawful Censure for your Faults, as shall  
Be proved upon you.  Cor. 
I am Content.  Men. 
Lo, Citizens, he says he is Content.  Cor. 
What is the Matter,  
That being passed for Consul with full Voice,  
I am so dishonoured, that the very Hour  
You take it off again?  Sic. 
Answer to us.  Cor. 
Say then, 'tis true, I ought so.  Sic. 
We Charge you, that you have Contrived to take  
From Rome, all Office, strove to wind yourself  
Into a Power Tyrannical;  
For which, you are a Traitor to the People.  Cor. 
How? Traitor!  Men. 
Nay, patiently: your Promise.  Cor. 
The Fires i'th' lowest Hell, fold in their People,  
Call me their Traitor: Thou injurious Tribune,  
Were Legions by thee, I would say, thou Liest,  
With Voice as free as I do Pray the Gods.  Bru. 
Mark you this; People.  All. 
To the Rock, to the Rock with him.  Sic. 
We need not put new Matter to his Charge;  
What you have seen him do, and heard him speak;  
Beating your Officers, Cursing yourselves,  
Opposing Law with Blows; and last, defying  
The Power that was to Try him: this deserves  
The extremest Death.  Bru. 
But since he has Served well for Rome—  Cor. 
What, do you talk of Service?  Bru. 
I speak of it that know it.  Cor. 
You?  Men. 
Is this the Promise that you made?  Cor. 
Vex me no more:  
Let 'em pronounce the steep Tarpeian Death,  
Vagabond Exile, Flaying; doomed to Linger:  
But with a Grain a Day, I would not buy  
Their Mercy at the Price of one fair Word.  Sic. 
I say, his Service to the State being weighed,  
With hostile Practices committed since:  
●th' Name o'th' People, and the Tribunes Power,  
We Banish him for ever from our City;  
In pain of Death from the Tarpeian Rock,  
No more to enter through the Gates of Rome:  
I'th' People's Name, I say, it shall be so.  All. 
It shall be so, it shall be so; Away with him, He's a banished Man, Out with him.  Com. 
Hear me my Masters, and my common Friends.  Sic. 
He's Sentenced; no more Hearing. He is Banished,  
As Enemy to the People, and his Country.  All. 
'Tis so, 'tis so; it shall be so, etc.  Cor. 
You common Cry of Curs, whose Breath I hate,  
More than the rotten Fens, whose Love I prize,  
As the Dead Carcases of unburied Men,  
That do corrupt my Air. I Banish you:  
Remain you here with cursed Uncertainty;  
Let every feeble Rumour shake your Hearts,  
Have still the Power to Banish your Defenders,  
Till you are left a Prey to some vile Nation,  
That Won you without Blows; Poison each other;  
Devour each other; Commerce cease amongst you;  
Rob one another: nothing you can Steal,  
but Thiefs do lose it: Whirlwinds sack your Town,  
And Citizens, and City, make one Rubbish.  
Thus with the Gods, I turn my Back upon you;  
And swift Confusion swallow you.  [Exit. with his Friends. Sic. 
There went the People's Enemy.  They All Shout, and throw up their Caps. 
Go see him out at Gates, and follow him,  
As he has followed you; with all Despite,  
Give him diserved Vexation: Let a Guard  
Attend us through the City.  All. 
Ay, ay, let's see him out at Gates: the Gods preserve our noble Tribunes; Away, away.  [Exit. Coriolanus, Volumnia, Virgilia, Menenius, Cominius, with the Nobility of Rome. Cor. 
Come, leave your Fears, a brief Farewell, and Part:  
The Beast with many Heads Butts me away:  
Nay Mother, Where is now your wonted Courage?  
You have been used to say, Extremities  
Were the Distinguishers of Noble Spirits;  
That common Changes, common Men could bear;  
That when the Sea was Calm, the slightest Boats,  
Could with the Proudest, cut the smooth faced Flood;  
That Strength and Management was for the Storm:  
Thus you were wont to Arm me, with such precepts,  
As made invincible the Heart that learned 'em.  Vol. 
The spotted Pestilence strike every Street,  
And purple Slaughter triumph through the City;  
Death block up every Door, and Graves be wanting;  
The noisy Trades be hushed, and Traffic cease;  
Assemblies be no more: Owls, Ravens, Vultures,  
With Nests obscene, their desolate Buildings fill,  
And Beasts of Prey their ancient Seats regain.  Cor. 
No more, the Life of Rome's not worth this Mourning;  
I shall be Loved, when I am lacked— nay Mother,  
Resume that Spirit, when you were wont to say,  
If you had been the Wife of Hercules,  
Six of his Labours you'd have Born, and Saved  
Your Husband so much Sweat.  Vol. 
My first-born Son,  
I call the Gods to Witness for my Temper,  
That hitherto thy Dangers were my Joy,  
Whilst for the Service of thy Country born;  
But now thou hast no Country to Defend,  
I feel the Woman's Tenderness return;  
The Mother's Fondness, and her panting Fears.  Virg. 
My injured Lord, What Course wilt thou pursue,  
Exposed to more Distress, and threatning Dangers,  
Than ever yet befell a Banished Man:  
From her Confederate, Cities, Rome Excludes thee;  
And in Rome's Service, thou hast made all others,  
Thy Foes implacable?  Cor. 
The Gods that Warn me from these Seats, Choose for me.  
Where is my little Life? Pray let me see him,  
Leave him a hasty Blessing, and Away.  Young Martius brought in; Coriolanus take him in his Arms. 
Oh! How I grudge ingrateful Rome this Treasure!  
Make much of him Virgilia, I shall live  
To Train him up in War, and he shall Choose  
Some Country to Defend, and make his own:  
My Absence in some Part he shall Supply;  
And with his innocent Prattling, chide thy Sights,  
When thou shalt Wake, and Miss me from thy Bed.  Boy, 
Sir, Shall not I go with you? my Grandmother has  
Promised me a Sword.  Cor. 
My pretty Life, I'll Visit thee again;  
Take, take him hence, he raises in my Breast  
A Tenderness that's most Unseasonable:  
And Loathness to Depart— take him away.  Boy, 
Then in truly Sir, I'll learn to Ride,  
And come to you.  Cor. 
Away, the little Thief has stole my Temper,  
And filled my Eye lids with unmanly Dew:  
Once more Farewell to All.  Men. 
Permit us Sir,  
To Wait you to the City Gates, so far  
The Cruelty o'th' People does Allow.  Cor. 
By Jove, and Fire-eyed Mars, not one Step further:  
This Race of Pilgrimage is all my own.  
I know not what presage has struck my Breast;  
But Oh! Methinks I see Destruction teem,  
And waiting for my Absence, to Discharge  
The battering Storm on this perfidious City:  
So when the murmuring Wind, from out his Nest,  
Jove's Royal Bird to the open Region calls;  
Aloft he Mounts, and then the Tempest Falls.  [Exit. 
The End of the Third ACT.   

ACT the Fourth.  

SCENE, The City of Corioles.  Enter Coriolanus, Disguised in mean Habit. Cor. 
A Goodly City this Corioles! City,  
'Twas I that did Transform thy Joyful Wives,  
To Mourning Widows; many a Darling Heir  
Of these fair Palaces, have I Cut off  
I'th' wretched Parent's sight; then know me not.  
Here is Aufidious Court, I'll enter in;  
Perhaps he Kills me; then he does fair Justice;  
But if he give me Scope, I'll do his Country Service.  [Exit. The Inside of the Palace; Music Plays; Servants pass hastily over the Stage. 1 Seru. 
Wine, Wine, Wine! No Ears amongst us? I think our  
Fellows are all Asleep.  2 Seru. 
Cotus, Where's Cotus? my Master Calls for him, Cotus.  [Exit. Re-enter Coriolanus. Cor. 
A sumptuous House! The Feast smells well; but I appear not like a Guest.  1 Seru. 
How now! What have we here? What would you have Friend? Whence come you? here's no place for you: Pray find the way to the Door.  Cor. 
I have deserved no better Entertainment  
From this Corioles.  Enter the Second Servant. 2 Seru. 
Whence come you Sir? What, has the Porter no Eyes in his Head? to let such Companions in: pray get you out.  Cor. 
Away.  2 Seru. 
Away? get you away.  Cor. 
Thou art Troublesome.  [Trips him up. 2 Seru. 
Are you so brisk? Well, I'll have you ordered anon.  [Exit. Enter Aufidius with Servants. Auf. 
Where is this Follow?  2 Seru. 
Here my Lord, I had cudgelled him like a Dog, but for disturbing the Lords within.  Auf. 
Whence com'st Thou? what wouldst have? thy Name,  
Why speak'st thou not? thy Name I say?  Cor. 
A Name unmusical to Volscian Ears,  
And Tullus harsh to thine.  Auf. 
Speak, Who thou art?  
Thou hast a grim Appearance, and thy Face  
Bears a Command in't; though they Tackle's Torn,  
Thou show'st a noble Vessel: speak thy Name.  Cor. 
Prepare thy Brow to frown; know'st thou me yet?  Auf. 
I know the not; speak.  Cor. 
My name is Caius Martius, who have done  
To all the Volsces; Thee particularly,  
Most rueful Mischief; take, to Witness this,  
My Surname Coriolanus: All my Dangers,  
My painful Service, and expense of Blood,  
Shed for my thankless Country, are requited  
But with that Surname, only that remains;  
The People's Envy has devoured the Rest:  
Who with insulting Breath, and infamous Shouts,  
Have Chased me from their City; now this extremity  
Has brought me to thy Court; not out of hope,  
(Mistake me not) to Save my Life; for if  
I had feared Death; of all Men in the World,  
I had avoided Thee: but in mere Rage,  
To be Revenged of those my Banishers:  
For I will Fight against ingrateful Rome, with all the Spleen  
Of the remorseless Fiends: This I avow,  
Believe me if thou wilt; if not; know Tullus,  
I am of Life most weary, and present  
My Throat to thee, and to thy ancient Malice;  
Which not to Cut, would show thee but a Fool;  
Since I have ever born thee, feellest Hatred,  
Drawn Tuns of Blood from thy dear Countries Breast;  
And cannot Live, but to thy Shame, unless  
It be to do Thee Service.  Auf. 
Oh Martius, Martius!  
Each word thou hast spoke, has weeded from my Heart,  
A Root of ancient Envy: Oh! If Jupiter,  
From you curled Clouds, should Thunder forth this Story,  
I'd not believe him more, than Noble Martius.  
Let me embrace that Body, against which,  
My pointed Lance a hundred times has splintered:  
Thus do I clasp the Anvil of my Sword,  
And here Contest as hotly with thy Love,  
As e'er I did in Battle with thy Valour.  Cor. 
Why this is somewhat.  Auf. 
Son of Mars I tell thee,  
We have a Power on foot, and I had purpose,  
Once more to Hue thy Target to thy Glove,  
Or lose this Arm for't; Thou hast beat me out  
Twelve several times, and I have might'ly since,  
Dreamt of Encounters 'twixt myself and thee;  
We have been down together in my Sleep,  
Unbuckling Helms, grasping each others Throats,  
And walked half Dead with Nothing: Worthy Martius,  
Had we no Quarrel else to Rome, but that  
Thou thence art Banished, me would Muster All,  
From Twelve to Seventy Years, and pouring War  
Into the Bowels of thy ingrateful City,  
Like a swollen Flood waste All: Come, Enter with me,  
And take our wondering Senators by th' Hands,  
Assembled here to take their Leaves of me,  
Who stand prepared against your Territories;  
Though not for Rome itself.  Cor. 
You bless me Gods.  Auf. 
You here are Absolute; if you will have  
The Leading of your own Revenges; take  
The half of my Commission, and resolve  
Whether to beat against the Gates of Rome,  
Or first Afflict 'em in remoter Parts:  
But come, let me present you to our Nobles,  
That will confirm my words: A thousand Welcomes,  
And more a Friend, than e'er an Enemy:  
Yet Martius that was Much.  [Exeunt. 1 Seru. 
Here's a strange Alteration!  2 Seru. 
By this Hand I thought to have cudgelled him, and yet my mind gave me, his clothes belied him.  1 Seru. 
What an Arm he has? Why, he turned me about between a Finger and a Thumb, as a Man would set up a Top.  2 Seru. 
Nay, I knew by his Face there was something in him; he had Sir, a kind of Face methought— I cannot tell how to term it.  1 Seru. 
He had so; such a looking, as it were— that, that you call your— what ' de ye call't— well, would I were Hanged but I thought there was more in him than I could Think: He is, simply, the rarest Man i'th' World.  Enter a Third Servant. 3 Seru. 
O Lads! Slaves! Well, I would not be a Roman of all Nations, I had as live be a condemned Man.  1 Seru. 
The Matter?  3 Seru. 
Why, here's he that was wont to Thwack our General— Caius Martius'.  2 Seru. 
How? Thwack our General.  3 Seru. 
No, I do not directly say Thwack him, but he was always enough for him.  1 Seru. 
Come, we are Fellows and Friends, he was ever too hard for him, I have heard him say so himself.  2 Seru. 
He was too hard for him, indefinitely, the last Engagement; he Scotched and Notched him like any Carbanado.  3 Seru. 
Why, he's so made on yonder within, as if he was Son and Heir to Mars; set at the upper end of the Table; no Question asked him by any of our Senators, but they stand Bald before him: My Lord himself makes a very Mistress of him. The short of the Business is, Our General is cut i'th' Middle; but the one Half of what he was Yesterday; for the other has half his Commission by the Grant of the whole Table; which by the way, has something soured our Master's Countenance: The upshot of all is, that this strange Guest has Sworn to stub the Gates of Rome, and Mow All down before him.  1 Seru. 
And he's as like to do't as any Man; for look you Sir, he has as many Friends as Enemies; which Friends Sir, as it were, durst not (look you Sir) show themselves (as we say) his Friends whilst he was in Derectitude.  2 Seru. 
Derectitude, What's that?  1 Seru. 
Why? that is (d'ye conceive me Sir) Directitude but when they shall see his Crest up again, and the Man in Blood, they will out of their Burroughs like Coneys after Rain.  2 Seru. 
But when goes this forward?  3 Seru. 
Why to Morrow, to Day, this Minute, you shall hear the Drum struck up this Afternoon; 'tis as it were, a part of their Feast, and to be Executed before they wipe their Lips.  2 Seru. 
Why then we shall have a stirring World again.  3 Seru. 
Right; I hate this mouldy Peace; 'tis good for nothing but to rust Iron, and increase Tailors; 'tis a getter of more Bastard Children, than War's a Destroyer of 'em.  2 Seru. 
Away, here comes our General with a Frown in his  
Forehead, and our Termegent Controller, Nigridius with him.  3 Seru. 
He is ever the Harbinger to Mischief; his former Command was under Caius Martius, who entrusted him with the Custody of Corioles, which he fairly gives up to Aufidius; at a close Revenge he never fails; yet he that Lives to see him Hanged, may Die before the Year's out: And there's Prophecy without Conjuring.  [Exeunt. Enter Aufidius and Nigridius. Nigr. 
What Circe Sir, has wrought you to this Change:  
By Hell I rather should have thought to have seen,  
Serpents with Doves embract, than this Agreement;  
Call but to Mind your Mornings Wiser Thoughts:  
Where is that fiery Resolution vanished?  
Have you, My Lord, forgot your Morning's Vow?  
It seemed the Voice of Fate.  Auf. 
Nigridius, No,  
The Accents still are fresh upon my Mind;  
I Swore, and called the Elements to Witness,  
If I, and Caius Martius met once more,  
That teeming Hour, Corioles or Rome,  
I● him or me should Perish.  Nigr. 
Such a Sound,  
And Uttered, with so stern a Brow, shot Terror,  
And to our View, Confessed a flaming Mars;  
But now (forgive me Sir) you seem reduced  
To Lesle, than Man, the Shadow of yourself:  
What Witchcraft drew your Mind to this Alliance  
With him, whose only Genius of the World,  
Had Power to Vie with yours?  Auf. 
He bears himself more Proudly,  
Even to my Person, than I thought he would,  
When late I did embrace him; but his Nature  
In that's no Changeling, and I must excuse  
What cannot be Amended.  Nigr. 
Yet I wish  
You had not took this joint Commission with him;  
But either born the Action all yourself,  
Or left it whole to him.  Auf. 
I understand Thee—  
But spare to Fret a Lion in the Toil.  Nigr. 
The Palsy Senate lay their Fears aside,  
And rest on his Protection as a Gods:  
Your Soldiers use him as their Grace 'fore Meat;  
Their Talk at Table, and their Thanks when done:  
What Estimation shall your Foes take for you,  
When you are lost, and darkened to your own:  
Hark in what Notes the very Rabble greet him.  [Shout here. Auf. 
Death! Hell! This Infamy inflames my Breast,  
Makes Emulation higher boil than ever;  
I'll sink Corioles, but I'll yet break with him;  
And wreck the State, rather than want a Quarrel.  [Exeunt. Brutus at one Door, Menenius at the other. Bru. 
We stood to't in good time— here comes Menenius;  
O! He is grown of late most Courteous: Hail Sir,  
Your Coriolanus is not much Mist you see,  
But with his Friends; the Commonwealth stands still,  
And so would do, were he more Angry at it.  Men. 
Come, all is well, and might have been much better—  Bru 
Where is he, hear you?  Men. 
Nay, I hear Nothing.  Bru. 
He was a worthy Officer i'th' War;  
But Insolent, Ambitious, and Affecting  
A single Sway.  Men. 
I think not so.  Enter Scicinius hastily, with the Rabble, crying, Gods Save our Noble Tribunes, etc. Bru. 
The Matter Brother: Whom bring you there?  Sic. 
This Slave, whom I am sending to Correction,  
Reports, The Volsces, with two several Powers,  
Are entered on the Roman Territories;  
And waste with Sword and Fire, what lies before.  
This he Reports, set on by envious Parties,  
To Fright the People's Quiet.  1 Cit 
Ay, I'll be sworn he has set me in terrible Twittering,  
My Heart beats still.  Men. 
'Tis Fierce Aufidius,  
Who hearing of our Martius Banishment,  
Thrusts forth his Horns again, that were shut in,  
Whilst Martius stood for Rome.  Bru. 
Go see the Villain Whipped.  Men. 
First reason with him.  Sic. 
Let him be Lashed before the People's Eyes.  1 Cit 
ay, I, Whip him; such another Fright upon me, would make my Wife Miscarry.  Enter another Messenger. Mes. 
Hast, hast my Lords, you are sent for to the Senate,  
A fearful Army led by Caius Martius,  
Assisted by Aufidius, Spoils our Territories,  
Consumes with Arms and Fire, what lies before 'em.  1 Cit 
How! Caius Martius coming; All Dead Men, Dead! dead! dead!  Men. 
O you have made good work: What News my Lord?  Enter Senator. Mes. 
Cominius, on the Spur, is gone to meet,  
And pacify the raging Martius.  Men. 
'Twill be impossible.  Mes. 
The Senate thinks so;  
He Leads the Volsces like their God, a Being  
Made by some other Deity than Nature,  
That forms Man better.  Men. 
You have made precious work;  
You, and your Apron Men, that stood so much  
Upon the Voice of Occupation, and  
The Breath of Garlic eaters.  All Cit 
Ay, we shall be Occupied with a Vengeance.  Men. 
He'll shake your Rome about your Ears,  
As Hercules did shake down Mellow Fruit.  Both Trib. 
But is this true Sir?  Sen. 
You'll dissolve to Jelly,  
Before you find it otherwise; the Cities  
That were Allied to Rome, Revolt each Minute.  1 Cit 
Undone, undone, we are all undone, unless the Noble  
Man have Mercy.  Sen. 
And who shall ask it?  
The Tribunes cannot do't for shame, and you  
Deserve such pity of him, as the Wolf  
Does from the Shepherd: for his Friends, if they  
Should say, be good to Rome, he'll censure 'em  
As Enemies to him.  Men. 
True, were he putting to my House, the Brand  
That should Consume it; I could not say Cease.  
Your Curs here from the City Hooted him:  
But Oh! I fear you'll Roar him in again.  Enter all the rest of the Citizens with a confused Cry, and Lamentation. Sen. 
Look, here comes the whole Kennel: You are they  
That made the Air unwholesome, with  
The casting up your greasy Caps, and Hooting  
At Coriolanus Banishment: now he's coming  
To pay you for your bellowing; 'tis no matter  
If he could Burn us All into one Coal;  
We have deserved it.  All. 
The Gods be gracious to Us, we hear fearful News.  1 Cit 
For my own part, when I said Banish him, I said 'twas pity.  2 Cit 
And so did I; and to say Truth, so did All of Us: Well, we did, that we did, for the Best; and though we willingly consented to his Banishment, yet it was against our Wills.  1 Cit 
ay, I, I ever said we were in the Wrong.  All. 
ay, and so did we All.  Enter Cominius. 2 Cit 
Let me see what his Face says to us: Alack! alack, Dead, dead, dead! All dead Men.  Sen. 
Welcome my Lord, What Influence had your Intercession  
With enraged Coriolanus.  Com. 
Nothing: He would not seem to know me.  Men. 
Hear you that?  Com. 
Yet once he called me by my Name;  
I urged our old Acquaintance, and the Drops  
That we have Bled together, but in vain: Coriolanus  
He would not answer to; forbade all Names;  
He was a kind of Nothing; Titleless,  
Till he had forged him a Name o'th' Fire,  
In burning Rome.  All Cit 
Alack! alack! etc.  Com. 
I minded him how Royal 'twas to Pardon,  
When it was least Expected; he replied,  
It was a forced Submission of a State,  
To one they had abused, and still would do so.  Men. 
Very well,  Com. 
I tried at last to Waken his Regard,  
For his own private Friends his answer was,  
He could not stay to cull 'em in a Pile  
Of noisome musty Chaff.  1 Cit 
How? Chaff? What, does he make no more of us but Chaff? And will he burn his Mother and Wife, rather than not make Tinder of us? The Gods be gracious to us.  Bru. 
Now good Menenius, if you Love your Country,  
Or Pity Her Distress, become Her Pleader;  
Your powerful Tongue may be of force to stop him,  
More than the instant Army we can Raise.  Men. 
No, I'll not meddle.  Sic. 
Pray go to him.  Men. 
What should I do?  Bru. 
Only make trial what your Love can work  
For Rome, with Martius.  All Cit 
Kneeling Beseech you most Noble Menenius.  Men. 
Well, I will under-takeed, and think he'll hear me,  
Though much discouraged with Cominius Treatment;  
Yet I will prove him with my ablest Speed.  1 Cit 
The Gods preserve you Sir, Commend my hearty Affections to him; and if it stand with his good liking, we'll hang up our Tribunes, and send him them for a Token.  Com. 
He'll never hear him;  
I tell you, he sits Throned in Gold, his Eye  
All Red, as 'twould Burn Rome; his Injury  
The Jailer to his Pity; I kneeled to him,  
'Twas very faintly he said Rise; dismissed me  
Thus with his speechless Hand; what he resolved,  
He sent in Writing after me, and that  
Most Fatal. Therefore curse your Crime, and Perish.  [Exit. 1 Cit 
Some comfort yet, that we have these Vipers to Carbinado; Come Neighbours, we'll see them smoke before us. Away, away with 'em.  Exeunt. Haling and Dragging off the Tribunes. Scene Opening, shows Coriolanus seated in State, in a rich Pavilion, his Guards and Soldiers with lighted Torches, as ready to set Fire on Rome; Petitioners as from the City offer him Papers, which he scornfully throws by: At length Menenius comes forward, and speaks to him: Aufidius with Nigridius, making Remarks on 'em. Men. 
Now may the Gods in hourly Council sit,  
For thy Prosperity, and Love Thee,  
As thy old Father Menenius does:  
O Son! my Son, What Fury sways thy Breast?  
Thou art preparing Fire for us; look here,  
Here's Water for the Flames:  
Most hardly was I wrought to come to Thee;  
But being assured none but myself could move Thee;  
I come, blown out from Rome with gales of Sighs.  Cor. 
Away.  Men. 
How?  Cor. 
No words Friend: Mother, Wife, or Child, I know not;  
I'm not my own, but servanted to others;  
Mine was the Injury, but the Remission  
Lies not with me, but in the Voisces Breast;  
And Rome must stand to them for their Account.  
That we were Friends, forgetfulness must blot,  
ere lawless Pity move: Therefore be gone,  
My Ears against your Prayers are stronger, than  
Your Gates against my Arms: Yet 'cause I Loved Thee,  
Take this with thee; I Writ it for thy Sake,  
And meant t'have sent it: Another word, Menenius,  
I must not hear Thee speak: This Man, Aufidius,  
Was my best Loved in Rome; yet thou beholdest—  Auf. 
You bear a constant Temper.  Cor. 
His Love to me,  
Was much beyond the Kindness of a Father;  
And I returned him more than filial Duty;  
Their latest Refuge was to send him to me.  Auf. 
You are two Rigorous.  Nigr. 
Fasten but that upon him, and you Gain  
The Point we wish.  Cor. 
Now plant our Fires against the Gates of Rome:  
Bid all Trumpets Sound;  
They shall have Music to their flaming City.  As they Advance with their Lights, Enter from the other side, Volumnia, Virgilia, and Young Martius, with the rest of the Roman Ladies all in Mourning. Cor. 
Look there, my Mother, Wife, and little Darling,  
Are come to Meet our Triumph on its way,  
And be Spectators of our keen Revenge,  
On this ingrateful Town.  Virg. 
My dearest Lord!  Vol. 
My First-born only Son.  Cor. 
Life of my Life, Fly to me? O a Kiss,  
Long as my Exile, Sweet as my Revenge;  
And thou my Turtle, Nest Thee in my Heart:  (To the Boy) 
Forgive me Gods, that any dearest Transport,  
Should make my charmed Sense, unsaluted, leave  
The Noblest Mother— sink my Knee in Earth,  
Of deepest Duty more Impression show,  
Than that of common Sons.  Nigr. 
Observe you this?  Cor. 
What means this Silence? What, these sable Weeds?  
This Troop of Stars beset with darkest Night:  
O Mother, Wife! Two deeply you have took  
My Banishment, and I must chide your Sorrow.  
This Sadness for my Absence, showed Dispair  
Of Injured Martius Virtue, called in Question,  
The Justice of the Gods for my Revenge;  
Virgilia speak, speak Mother; at your Feet  
Behold a kneeling Conqueror: Answer to me.  Vol. 
Rise Martius, up, Coriolanus rise;  
Whilst with no softer Cushion than these Flints;  
I Kneel to thee, and with this new Submission,  
Show Duty as mistaken all this while,  
Between the Son and Parent.  Cor. 
What's this? Your Knees to me?  
Then let the Pebbles of the Hungry Beach,  
Change Station with the Stars; the Mutinous Winds,  
Snatch Mountain-Oaks, and hurl 'em at the Sun;  
Let all Impossibilities have Being,  
And Nature fall as Giddy with the Round.  Vol. 
My Fire-eyed Warrior, Do you know this Lady?  Cor. 
The Noble Sister of Publicola,  
The Moon of Rome, chaste as the frozen Snow,  
That hangs on Diana's Temple.  Vol. 
And this divine Epitome of yours;  
This little Martius whom full Time shall ripen  
Into your perfect self.  Cor. 
The God of Battles,  
With the Consent of favouring Jove inspire  
Thy Thoughts with Nobleness; that thou mayst prove,  
The Wars proud Standard fixed in Tides of Blood;  
Like a tall seamark o'er the dashing Waves,  
And saving those that view Thee.  Vol. 
Your Knee Sirrah,  
Even He, your Wife, these Ladies, and myself,  
Are humble Suitors—  Cor. 
Oh my boding Heart!  Vol. 
This Liv'ry was not for your Absence worn;  
So dear we knew your safety to the Gods:  
But now put on as funeral Robes, and Mourning  
For our expiring Rome. O spare thy Country,  
And do not Murder Nature.  Cor. 
Witness for me  
You conquering Host, and Thou my valiant Partner;  
What Tenderness and Duty I have shown  
These Ladies, whilst they did converse with me  
As Wife and Mother: but since they exceed  
The Bounds of Kindred, and encroach upon  
Affairs of State, I as the Volsces General,  
Support their Dignity, and take my Pomp;  [Ascends his Throne. 
Yet Nature shall to any suit, unlock  
Our yielding Ear, that does not tend to Save  
The Roman State, and Barring our Revenge;  
In that particular, I shall forget  
All intercourse of Blood;  
Standing as Man were Author of himself,  
And knew no other Kin.  Vol. 
No more, no more;  
You have said you will not grant us any thing,  
For we have nothing else to ask, but that  
Which you deny already— yet we'll speak.  Cor. 
Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark, for we  
Hear nought from Rome in private— your request:  
What seeks that lovely Tempter, whose Dove's Eyes  
Could make the Gods forsworn— but shake not me?  Virg. 
Think with yourself my once indulgent Lord,  
How more unhappy than all living Women,  
Are we come hither, since thy sight, that should  
Make our Eyes flow with Joy, strikes Terror through us;  
Forcing the Mother, Wife, and Child, to see  
The Son, the Husband, and the Father, tearing  
His Country's Bowels with unnatural Rage,  
Whilst frighted Destiny disowns the Deed,  
And Hell is struck with Horror.  Vol. 
Thou debarr'st us  
Even of our prayer's to th' Gods, and to this Hour,  
No Wretchedness was e'er denied that help:  
How shall we ask the Death of Rome, or thee,  
Opposed in fatal War; and one must fall?  
Most wretched Martius, thou bleedest every way;  
For know 'tis sworn betwixt thy Wife and me,  
In that cursed hour that Thou despoilst our City,  
Thou treadest upon thy Mother's Earth.  Virg. 
And mine; and this sweet smiling Flower.  Boy. 
He shall not tread on me, I'll run away till I am bigger:  
But then I'll Fight.  Cor. 
Not to be struck with Woman's tenderness,  
Requires, nor Child's, nor Woman's Face to see.  
I have sat too long.  [Descends.] Virg. 
Nay, go not from us thus:  
If it were so, that our Request did tend  
To Save the Romans, thereby to Destroy  
The Volsces, whom you serve, you might condemn us,  
As Poisoners of your Honour: No, our suit  
Is but to Reconcile 'em, that the Volsces  
May say, This Mercy we have shown the Romans;  
This we received, whilst either Party gives  
The Praise to Thee, and bless thy Memory,  
For making this dear Peace.  Vol. 
Thou know'st my Son,  
Th' event of War's uncertain; but 'tis certain,  
That if thou Conquer Rome, the Benefit  
That thou shalt reap from thence, is such a Name,  
As always shall be mentioned with a Curse:  
Thy Chronicle writ thus; The Man was Noble,  
But with his last performance stained his Glory,  
And left his Rowl of Fame, but one foul Blot.  
Pause, and reply to this.  Cor. 
Why chills my Blood?  
Like a dull Actor now have I forgot  
My Part, and stop even to a full Disgrace:  
Away Affection; break ye Bonds of Nature;  
In me 'tis virtuous to be obstinate:  
Bid our Drums strike.  Vol. 
Speak Daughter; Boy, speak thou;  
Perhaps thy childishness may move him more,  
Than all our Reasons: Never was there Man,  
So much to an indulgent Mother bound,  
Yet all neglected. Here he sees me begging;  
Say my request's unjust, and spurn me back:  
But if it be not so— he turns away.  
Down Ladies, let us shame him with our Knees;  
He bears more service for his Countries Foes,  
Than Pity for our Prayers: Down, and finish;  
This is our last; so will we back to Rome,  
And die i'th' common Slaughter— Nay, behold  
This Boy, that cannot tell what he would have;  
Yet Kneels, and with up lifted Hands,  
Becomes a pleader for his Country too:  
Remorseless still— Then give us our Dispatch;  
We'll speak no more, till Rome be all on Fire.  
Then joining Curses with the Crowd, expire.  Cor. 
O Mother-Goddess, dread Volumnia, turn:  
What have you done? Behold the heavens' divide,  
And Gods look down on this amazing Scene!  
O Mother Goddess, heaven-born Advocate;  
A happy Victory you've gained for Rome,  
Though dangerous for your Son. But let it come  
Aufidius, though we press not on the War,  
We'll frame convenient Peace. Now tell me Warriors,  
If you were in my stand, Would you have heard  
A Mother less, or granted less, Aufidius?  Auf. 
I was moved too.  Cor. 
I dare be sworn you were:  
What Peace you'll make, advise me; for my part,  
I'll not to Rome, but back with you. Lead on,  
Sound all our Trumpets— Ladies you deserve  
To have a Temple built you: All Rome's Legions,  
With their confederate Arms, could ne'er have stood  
My sworn Revenge, and turned this Tide of Blood.   
The End of the Fourth ACT.   

ACT the Fifth.  

SCENE Rome.  Enter Cominius, and the Nobles leading Volumnia, Virgilia, and young Martius, with the rest of the Ladies and Attendants, the Citizens shouting. Com. 
THis Honour Ladies, might make Juno proud,  To Vol. & Virg. 
To think whilst you receive th'Applause of Rome,  
Your Martius triumphs at Corioles:  
Corioles, that once has had the Honour  
To make Rome tremble.  Enter Valeria. Val. 
Servant Ladies, your Servant; your Ladyships are most happily returned: What misfortune had I to be indisposed at such a season: 'Twas the most uncivil Sickness! I swear I had rather ha' Died at another time! O the Arguments that I could have used upon this occasion with my Lord Coriolanus! I could have urged the most invincible Arguments: I would have talked Greek to him rather than fail; nay, I would have taxed his Breeding in the business; flatly telling him, he was an uncivil Person to refuse me; and had never seen Athens.  Vol. 
Indeed our Conquest was most difficult.  Val. 
Why Madam, don't I know him? He's the dearest obstinate Man! Which I confess in a Vulgar Person, were most inordinately, unsufferable; but in him it looks so Grand, Heroick, and August, that no Aera, Catalogue, Chronicle, Register, or Annals of Time can ever— Save me Juno; what, my little Soldier here too!  [Runs to young Martius. Vol. 
He was a silent Pleader in our Cause.  Val. 
I warrant, he loves a Drum better than his Lesson; his Father's own Son: I swear Madam, I looked on him on Wednesday last— right, 'twas Wednesday precisely, (the same time that Madam Pontia told the most egregious Story of a certain Senators Daughter, which we all swore Seoresy to: pray Madam put me in mind to tell it presently) I say, I looked at him a whole Hour together; he has such a fixed, confirmed, severe, austere, Countenance, I warrant— I saw him run after a gilded Butterfly; and when he had catched it, he let it go again; then after it again, and over and over he comes; and whether his Fall enranged him or no, or how 'twas, he did so set his Teeth, and tear it! O Jupiter, How he Mammockt it!  Virg. 
One of his Father's Moods.  Val. 
And I swear Madam, 'tis the greatest Comfort in nature to have 'em take after their Ancestors; for when they degenerate, they do as it were recede, decline, imminnish; which your Ladyship knows in effect amounts to a— My Lord Cominius! Your Lordship's most humble Servant, I beg your Lordships Pardon most inordinately.  Com. 
Madam your Ladyship makes—  Val. 
I grant you my Lord, your Friendship with him went far in the Business; pretty Madam Flavia and I, were both of that Opinion.  Com. 
Your Ladyship too highly—  Val. 
I hold with you there too my Lord, she's the wittiest Creature when she's disposed to Talk; but she has too much of my Failing, always silent in Company, which gives occasion, most inordinately, to the censorious World; insomuch, that a modest Person must incontinently, and to the outmost— though your forward Ladies by reason of a particular— Oh Jupiter! What was I saying my Lord?  Com. 
Even what—  Val. 
Your Lordship's right again; want of exercising my Tongue, ofttimes confounds my Notion—  [Page Whispers her. Page. 
Your rival Servants Madam, Flavius and Proculus, wait for your Ladyship's return.  [Enter a Messenger with Letters to Virgilia. Val. 
Soft— six Senators, sayst thou, staying for me at my House! Some urgent Affair; better I swear be Ignorant of State-matters than suffer this eternal Trouble: This 'tis to Learned and Travelled! I say 'tis the most insipid Thing not to be Learned and Travelled! I would not for the World but be disturbed at all Hours upon Affairs: My Chair there; O Jupiter, no Attendance in this World— your Lordship will excuse me on consideration— and your Ladyships: Your Lordship's most humble Servant; your Servant Ladies; your most humble Servant.  Exit. Verg. 
O my boding fear!  [Showing the Letter. 
Amidst this general Joy begins our Sorrow;  
This Mourning we put on for Rome, must now  
Become the Dress of our own private sorrow.  Com. 
What mean those doleful Accents?  Virg. 
False Nigridius,  
(Disbanded for his Villainy by Martius)  
Is busy for Revenge; and hourly plots  
Against his precious Life: The industry  
Of good Menenius sends this information;  
Whilst Martius, confident in Innocence,  
Is obstinately blind to all his dangers;  
Though in the Walls of an offended City,  
Whose Streets yet mourn the Slaughter he has made.  Vol. 
The Gods provide us then more noble Work,  
To give our Virtues, yet a brighter Ray:  
Come my Virgilia; with our ablest speed,  
We will betake us to Corioles.  Com. 
Consider Madam, what th' event may be;  
Your Aid uncertain, but your Danger sure.  Virg. 
Needful Suspicion, necessary Caution,  
He reckons only better terms for fear;  
His Life is therefore any Villain's Prize:  
And he that dares not face a waking Env'nuch,  
May kill a sleeping Giant.  Boy. 
Shall not I go too? My Father promised to teach me to Fight: I would fain learn; and if any body hurts him, I'll kill their Boys now; and them, when I am bigger.  Vol. 
Hear'st thou Virgilia? All thy Martius Fire  
Lies shrouded in this little Frame, and shall  
With Time, break forth into as full a Blaze:  
O we delay our Enterprise too long,  
And seem ingrateful to the indulgent Powers,  
That have decreed our Names, the immortal Glory,  
To Save Rome first, and then Coriolanus.  Com. 
The Gods, whose Temples you preserved, protect you.  Exeunt. Enter Aufidius, and Nigridius. Nigr. 
Compose this Fury, and recall your Reason.  Auf. 
Preach Patience to the Winds, bid Tempests Sleep.  
The golden Opportunity is lost,  
And I could curse myself as heartily  
As ever I did Martius: O Nigridius,  
I am a lazy Trifler, and unworthy  
To be possessed o'th' Beauty that I Love,  
Or be revenged upon the Man I hate:  
Why forced I not my passage to his Heart?  
Then pampered in the Banquet of his Blood,  
Flown hot, as flame born Pluto, to the Rape;  
And quenched the Fever in Virgilia's Arms.  Nigr. 
Give o'er this Frenzy.  Auf. 
Now each Minute wrecks me,  
With the Remembrance of my former Pangs,  
Which War had almost hushed, and Blood washed out  
Her Dovelike Sorrow, when she begged for Rome,  
(With Eyes Tear-charged, yet sparkling through the Dew,  
Whilst charming Pity dimpled each soft Cheek)  
Called back the Scene of my expecting Youth  
When with vain promises of Joys to come,  
I waked the Night, and watched the Stars away;  
So was I wrapped anew i'th' dazzling Dream;  
Believed her yet unwed; believed myself  
The happy Youth designed to Reap her Sweets;  
To Lock the tender Beauty in my Arms;  
Blushing, yet Granting; Trembling, and yet Embracing.  
I shall go Mad with the Imagination.  Nigr. 
Wake, wake my Lord from this fantastic Maze,  
Return her Scorn upon your Rival's head,  
And make at least a Mistress of Revenge:  
Even now he makes his Entrance at our Gates;  
Presuming with a smooth and specious Tale,  
To Acquit himself before the credulous People.  Enter an Officer of Aufidious Party. Off. 
Our Lords o'th' City, Noble Tullus,  
Are met in Council at your Palace, where  
They crave your Presence, having Summoned thither  
Your Partner Caius Martius, to give in  
Th' Account of his Proceedings in this War;  
And t' Answer at his Peril all Miscarriage.  Auf. 
Go, tell 'em I'll attend 'em instantly;  
Deliver 'em this Paper, the Contents  
Of what I have to Charge on Martius,  
And shall make good to his Face.  [Ex. Officer. Nigr. 
Now Sir, How fares it with you?  Auf. 
As with a Man by his own Alms empoisoned.  Nigr. 
You hold your last Resolve.  Auf. 
I cannot tell;  
We must proceed in't, as we find the People.  Nigr. 
The People will remain uncertain, whilst  
You stand Competitors; but either's fall,  
Leaves th' other Heir to All.  Auf. 
I raised him, pawned my Honour for his Truth,  
Whilst the sly Flatterer seduced my Friends,  
Softening his Nature, never known before:  
So base a Grain of Cynic obstinacy:  
Banished from Rome, I furnished him with Power;  
Made him joint Partner with me, gave him way  
In all his own desires; nay, took some Pride  
To do myself this wrong, till at the last,  
I seemed his Follower, not his Patron.  Nigr. 
True,  
Our Army wondered at it, and at last,  
When he had carried Rome, and that we looked  
For no less Spoil, than Glory—  Auf. 
O there's it!  
For which my Sinews shall be stretched upon him.  Nigr. 
Your Native-Town you entered like a Pilgrim,  
And had no welcome Home; whilst he returned,  
Torturing the Air with Noise; and patient Fools,  
Whose Children he had Slaughtered; tore their Throats,  
With shouting his Applause.  Auf. 
Wreck me no more,  
His Triumphs sleep this Day; then shalt thou see,  
Thy Tullus Glories bloom a second Spring:  
I shall be yet the Wonder of the Crowd,  
When this Controller of my Fate is gone:  
'Tis Odds our Senate doom him; but if not,  
I'll have my Party planted near— thy News.  Enter the Officer. Off. 
My Lord, the Council have perused your Paper,  
And summon your Appearance instantly.  
What will surprise you more: I met even now  
Volumnia with Virgilia, and young Martius,  
Just entered our Corioles,  
And hastily enquiring for your Palace;  
Menenius at that instant passing by.  Auf. 
Thou tell'st me Wonders, but I know thy Truth.  
Nigridius, help me now to play this Game,  
And draw at once our Net o'er the whole Covey:  
They have not yet seen Martius.  Off. 
No,— Menenius offering to Conduct 'em to him,  
They grew divided in their Resolutions;  
Virgilia held it best to seek out you,  
Presuming on her former Power with you;  
But what they did determine on—  Auf. 
No more.  
Nigridius, take our Guard along with you,  
Whilst I attend the Council; Seize 'em All,  
Before they can attain to speak with Martius;  
Dispose 'em privately within our Palace;  
Virgilia by herself; you know my drift:  
For soon as I've secured my Rival's Life,  
All stained i'th' Husband's Blood, I'll Force the Wife.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE, A Palace.  The Lords of Corioles, as set in Council. 1 Lord. 
Let Justice, Lords, reward his Services,  
Far as his Conduct shall be worthy found:  
'Tis not unknown what Deeds he has performed,  
Since first he had the Leading of our Powers;  
Molesting hourly Rome's confederate Cities;  
Restoring our lost Fields made rich with Blood;  
Our burdened Soldiers groaned beneath the Spoil:  
Yet— there to make a Halt in's Action,  
Where most his Resolution was required;  
To flinch our Service at the Gates of Rome,  
And make a Treaty where he should have Stormed;  
Admits of no excuse, and I propose it  
To your impartial Censures— See he comes.  Enter Coriolanus; Aufidius on the other side. Cor. 
Hail Lords, I am returned your Soldier;  
No more infected with my Country's Love,  
Than when I parted hence: be pleased to know,  
That prosperously I have attempted, and  
With bloody passage Led your War,  
Even to the Gates of Rome; our Spoils brought home,  
Ten times o'er pay the Charges of the Action:  
The Peace which with the Romans we have made,  
Brings no less honour to Corioles,  
Than shame to Rome. Behold their Consul's Hand,  
With the Patricians, and the Seal o'th' Senate  
To Composition, such as ne'er was gained  
By proudest Conqueror from the pettyest State:  
Peruse it, and approve my Services.  Auf. 
Ha! that again: Lords, heard you what he said?  Cor. 
I say, I'll have my Services approved.  Auf. 
Wrong not so much your Patience Lords, to Read  
That fabulous Commentary, but forthwith  
Give Sentence on his most apparent—  Cor. 
Ha!  
May I believe my Sense? Down swelling Heart,  
Thou wert my Partner, Tullus; but take heed,  
No more I say, and thank me for this warning.  Auf. 
O Vanity!  Cor. 
I say let me be Calm.  Auf. 
Out Blast— Read not the Paper, Lords,  
But tell the Traitor—  Cor. 
Traitor!  Auf. 
That, Martius.  Cor. 
Martius?  Auf. 
ay, Martius, Caius Martius', Dost thou think,  
I'll grace thee with thy Robbery, thy stolen Name—  
Coriolanus in Corioles.  
Most awful Lords o'th' State, perfidiously  
He has betrayed your Business, and given up,  
(For certain drops of Dew) your City Rome;  
I say your City to his Wife and Mother,  
Breaking his Oath of Service; called no Council  
Of War on This; but at his Nurse's Tears,  
He whined and roared away your Victory:  
For a few Tears, sold all our Blood and Labour,  
Whilst Pages blushed at him, and Men of heart,  
Looked wondering at each other.  Cor. 
Hear'st thou Mars!  Auf. 
Name not the fiery God, thou Boy of Tears.  Cor. 
Scorpions and Basilisks!  All 
Lords. Silence on your Lives.  Cor. 
Measureless Liar, thou hast made my Heart,  
Too big for what contains it: Boy? Oh Slave!  
Carrion-breed, creeping Infect: Lords your Pardon;  
'Tis the first time I e'er was forced to Brawl,  
But your grave Judgement will consent with me,  
To give this Fiend the Lie: Nay, his own Brawn,  
That wears my Stripes, his Vassal Body, that  
Must bear my Beatings with it to the Grave—  
Cut me to pieces Volsces, Pound, Calcine me,  
And throw my Dust to the Wind; yet when you've done;  
If you have Writ your Annals true, 'tis there,  
There Registered to all Posterity,  
That, as an Eagle in a Dove-coat, so  
Was Martius Slaught'ring in Corioles.  Auf. 
die Insolent.  Stamps with his Foot, the Conspirators Enter, and help him to wound Martius, who kills some, and hurts Aufidius. The Lords rise, and come forward. 1 Lord. 
Guards, Guards, secure 'em both.  
Tread not upon him; off:  
O Tullus, thou hast done a deed, at which,  
Valour will Weep.  Auf. 
Pray give me hearing,  ['a confused Noise heard from abroad. 2 Lord. 
Hark what Confusion storms without.  Enter Nigridius hastily. Nigr. 
Hast, hast my Lords, disperse to every Quarter,  
Our City's up in Arms, Aufidius Legions  
Opposed by those were led by Caius Martius.  
Prepare for dreadful Battle in our Streets,  
Unless your speedy presence quell their Fury.  1 Lord. 
Disperse my Lords, each to a several Quarter,  
With your best skill, to quench these threatning Flames.  [Exeunt Lords severally. Nigr. 
Cursed chance! Why bought you your Revenge so dear?  Auf. 
There's Blood upon thee.  Nigr. 
Blood long Thirsted for.  [The Noise continues ' Cor. 
'Tis just you Gods, to give my Death this Pomp;  
'Tis fit, that when Coriolanus Dies,  
Corioles shall fall their Sacrifice;  
Even thou my Bondslave follow'st in the Triumph;  
Hast then, and wait me to the nether World.  Auf. 
No, I have yet a pleasant Scene to Act;  
My Bliss; but Fiend, thy Hell; bring in Virgilia.  Cor. 
Virgilia?  Auf. 
Yes, she's here, here in the Palace;  
Out of her Roman Virtue come to seek you,  
And spy those dangers out, which you were blind to;  
Thou'lt not believe thy Foe, but hark, she comes;  
I charge thee die not yet, till thou hast seen  
Our Scene of Pleasures; to thy Face I'll Force her;  
Glut my last Minutes with a double Riot;  
And in Revenges Sweets and Loves, Expire.  Virgilia brought in Wounded. 
In Blood? Nigridius look! Behold a sight,  
Would turn the Gorgon-Snakes— my Rage is gone,  
And I am touched with Sorrow— my faint Nerves  
Refuse my Weight, and hasty Death invades  
At every Poor— Oh Dark! dark! O, O.  [Dies. Virg. 
Betray me not thou sluggish Blood, stream faster,  
I, now the stubborn Heart resigns, and takes  
The proud Destroyer to her inmost Courts.  Cor. 
O Heaven!  Virg. 
'Tis near, for that was Martius Voice;  
My Eyes are dim; but that dear Sound again;  
O where, my dear Lord? Speak!  Cor. 
If I do wake,  
And that bright dismal Object be Virgilia,  
Tell me what Sacrilegious Hand has stained,  
The whitest Innocence that Heaven e'er formed:  
What Rage could hurt a Gentleness like thine,  
Whose tender Soul could weep  
O'er dying Roses, and at Blossoms fall?  
Tell me thou Turtle, ruffled in a Storm;  
What chance seduced thee to these Caves of Slaughter?  
What means that purple Dew upon thy Breast?  Virg. 
My Noble Martius, 'tis a Roman Wound,  
Given by Virgilia's Hand, that rather chose  
To sink this Vessel in a Sea of Blood,  
Than suffer its chaste Treasure, to become  
Th' unhallowed Pirates Prize; but Oh the Gods,  
The indulgent Gods have lodged it in thy Bosoms!  
The Port, and Harbour of eternal Calms:  
O Seal with thy dear Hand these dying Eyes;  
To these cold Cheeks lay thine; and to thy Breast  
Take my unspotted Soul, in this last Sigh.  [Dies. Cor. 
Make way ye Stars, a nobler Brightness comes:  
Ariadne shall to thee resign her Crown;  
Yet my Virgilia mount not to thy Merit,  
But grace the Orb thy Martius shall attain:  
My Grief talks Idly— Cold my Love? She's gone;  
And on her Cheeks a scattered Purple smiles,  
Like streaks of Sunshine from a setting Day:  
But Oh my Heart! My Fears expire not here!  
Volumnia, and my little darling Boy;  
Where are they? Some kind God descend t' inform me.  Nigr. 
Trouble not Heaven for your Intelligence.  Cor. 
Nigridius here? Then Heaven indeed is distant!  Nigr. 
With silent Transport, Martius, I have stood  
To see thy Pangs; to have hastened on thy Death,  
Had been too poor Revenge; remember Martius,  
The Stripes, and foul disgrace thou laidst upon me,  
When once I bear Commission under thee:  
Thou mad'st me pass the Fork before my Soldiers,  
Discarded, Branded, Hooted from the Camp.  Cor. 
I do remember thy unequalled Villainy:  
Had exemplary Punishment.  Nigr. 
That day  
Thou drewest this Blood from thy own Vitals, Martius:  
'Tis thy young Boys, whom I this Hour have Mangled,  
Gashed, Racked, Distorted.  Cor. 
O this Tale of Horror,  
Would rouse the sleeping Father from his Grave!  
Yet Strength forsakes me for the dear Revenge.  
Well, Cerberus, How then didst thou dispose him?  
Didst eat him?  Nigr. 
Having killed your old Menenius,  
Offering his feeble Vengeance, straight I threw  
The Tortured Brat, with Limbs all broke (yet living  
In quickest Sense of Pain) I say, I threw him  
Into Volumnia's Arms, who still retained  
Her Roman Temper; till with bitter Language,  
And most insulting, added to her Sufferings;  
I roused her silent Grief, to loud Disorder;  
Then left her to the Tempest of her Fury,  
To Act my Part, and be her own Tormenter.  Cor. 
Convultions! Fevers! blewest Pestilence!  
Sleep on Virgilia, Wake not to a Story,  
Whose Horror would exceed the Force of Death,  
And turn thee into Stone.  Enter Volumnia Distracted, with young Martius under her Arm. Vol. 
Soft, soft; steal but the Watch word whilst they Sleep,  
And we pass Free.  Cor. 
Furies! The Fiend spoke Truth.  
O my poor Boy! Most wretched Mother, Oh!  Vol. 
Strike, strike your Torches, bid the Stars descend!  
We wander in the Dark.  
Hark! Boreas' musters up his roaring Crew;  
My Wings, and I'll among 'em; wreath my Head  
With flaming Meteors; load my Arm with Thunder;  
Which as I nimbly cut my cloudy Way,  
I'll hurl on the ingrateful Earth, and laugh  
To hear the Mortals Yelling.  Nigr. 
Mark you this?  Vol. 
ay, there's th' Hesperian Dragon, I must pass him,  
Before I reach the golden Bough; there Cerberus,  
‛ Gorge thy cursed Maw with that, and cease thy Barking;  
'Tis a delicious Morsel.  Cor. 
Earth and Heaven!.  
Is this Volumnia? Martius' awful Mother,  
And Rome's Minerva.  Boy. 
Dear Sir speak to my Grand Mother,  
Perhaps she'll answer you.  Vol. 
Ha! What a merry World is this Elysium!  
See how the youthful Shepherds trip to the Pipe,  
And fat Silenus' waddles in the Round.  
Beware thy Horns, Pan, Cupid's with their Bowstrings  
Have tied 'em fast to th' Tree! Ah, ha! ha! ha!  
What's that?— a Summons to me from the Gods?  
Back Mercury, and tell 'em I'll appear.  
All Heaven shall know how much I have been wronged:  
They tore my little Martius from my Arms;  
Broke all his innocent Limbs before my Face.  
Indeed I never did deserve this usage;  
For I was always Kind and Charitable;  
For Virtue famed; and as I do remember,  
'Twas I saved Rome, preserved ten thousand Infants,  
From being Massacred like my poor Boy!  
How? Juno dead! The Thunderer than is mine,  
And I'll have more than Juno's privilege:  
See how the Aether smokes, the Crystalline  
Falls clatt'ring down! This giddy Phaeton  
Will set the World on Fire! Down with him Jove:  
Wilt thou not Bolt him?— Then I'll Act thy Part,  
Force from thy slothful Hand the flaming Dart;  
And thus I strike my Thunder through his Heart.  Snatches a Partisan from the foremost of the Guards, and strikes Nigridius through, as she runs off. Cor. 
There struck the Gods.  Boy. 
Look where my Mother sleeps, pray wake her Sir;  
I have heard my Nurse speak of a dying Child,  
And fancy it is now just so with me;  
I fain would hear my Mother bless me first.  Cor. 
My pretty Innocence, she does not sleep.  Boy. 
Perhaps than I have done some Fault, makes her  
Not speak to me.  Cor. 
O Gods! may this be born!  Boy. 
I fain would clasp you too; but when I try  
To lift my Arms up to your Neck,  
There's something holds 'em.  Cor. 
Thy Torturers my Boy have crippled 'em,  
And gashed thy pretty Cheeks.  Boy. 
I know you Loved 'em;  
But truly 'twas no fault of mine; they did it  
Because I would not cry; and I have heard  
My Grandmother say, a Roman General's Son:  
Should never cry.  Cor. 
O Nature! A true Breed!  Boy. 
'Tis grown all Dark o'th' sudden, and we sink  
I know not whether; good Sir hold me fast.  [Dies. Cor. 
Fast as the Arms of Death: Now come my Pangs,  
The chilling Damp prevails upon my Heart.  
Thus, as th' Inhabitant of some sacked Town,  
The Flames grown near, and Foe hard pressing on,  
In haste lays hold on his most precious Store:  
Then to some peaceful Country takes his Flight:  
So, grasping in each Arm my Treasure, I  
Pleased with the Prize, to Death's calm Region Fly.  [Dies.   
FINIS.   

EPILOGUE  
Spoken by Valeria.  

WHat? No Attendance in this World?— make way:  
Where are our noisy Bussying Critics? They  
That heard no Scene, and Yet damn all the Play!  
Run down by Masques; to their old Shift they flee,  
And Rail at us, for want of Repertee!  
Well Gentlemen, how e'er you doom to Night,  
Methinks this Company's a blessed sight,  
And shows the Realm's disorder coming Right.  
As we Thrive, with the Public it does pass:  
The Playhouse is the Nation's Weatherglass;  
Where like to th' Quicksilver the Audience, still  
As the State goes, is found to Ebb or Fill.  
Shall I Inform you one thing Gallants? We  
In our Vocation with the Saints agree:  
For as their Holders-forth, their Flock enchant,  
So we our Audience charm with Noise and Rant:  
'Tis thus we Please; and I dare take my Oath,  
That Decency and Sense, would Break us Both.