T Sic. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter the condition of a man? Men. There is differency between a grub, and a butterfly; yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown from man to dragon: he has wings; he's more than a creeping thing. Sic. He loved his mother dearly. Enter the Ladies, accompanied by Senators, Patricians, and People. They pass over the stage. 1 Sen. Behold our patroness, the life of Rome: Men. So did he me: and he no more remembers Call all your tribes together, praise the gods, his mother now, than an eight year old horse. The And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before tartness of his face sours ripe grapes. When he them: walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius, shrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a Repeal him with the welcome of his mother; corslet with his eye; talks like a knell, and his hum Cry,-Welcome, ladies, welcome!— is a battery. He sits in his state,' as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done, is finished with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but eternity, and a heaven to throne in. Sic. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly. Men. I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his mother shall bring from him: There is no more mercy in him, than there is milk in a male tiger; that shall our poor city find: and all this is 'long of you. Sic. The gods be good unto us! Men. No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us. When we banished him, we respected not them: and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us. Enter a Messenger. Mess. Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to your The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune, Enter another Messenger. What's the news? Sic. The Volces are dislodg'd, and Marcius gone: Sic. Friend, Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain ?' you; [Trumpets and hautboys sounded, and drums beaten, all together. Shouting also within. The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes, Tabors, and cymbals, and the shouting Romans, Make the sun dance. Hark you! ᎯᏓᏓ . Welcome, ladies! [A flourish with drums and trumpets. [Exeunt. SCENE V-Antium. A public place. Enter Tullus Aufidius, with Attendants. Auf. Go tell the lords of the city, I am here: [Exeunt Attendants. If you do hold the same intent wherein Sir, I cannot tell; We must proceed, as we do find the people. 3 Con. The people will remain uncertain, whilst [Shouting again. A sea and land full: You have pray'd well to-day; Accept my thankfulness. Sir, we have all Great cause to give great thanks. (1) Chair of state. (2) To resemble. 6 (6) Thought me rewarded with good looks. For no less spoil, than glory,— Auf There was it;For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him. At a few drops of women's rheum,' which are As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour Of our great action; Therefore shall he die, And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark! [Drums and trumpets sound, with great shouts of the people. 1 Con. Your native town you enter'd like a post, And had no welcomes home; but he returns, Splitting the air with noise. 2 Con. And patient fools, Whose children he hath slain, their base throats Auf. No more." Ha! Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave!— Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever I was forc'd to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords, Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion My beating to his grave;) shall join to thrust 1 Lord. Auf. Why, noble lords, Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, 'Fore your own eyes and ears? Con. Let him die for't. 2 Lord. His own impatience Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame. Let's make the best of it. Auf. My rage is gone, And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up: Help, three of the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.Beat thou the drum, than it speak mournfully: Trail your steel pikes.-Though in this city he Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one, Which to this hour bewail the injury, Yet he shall have a noble memory. Assist. [Exeunt, bearing the body of Coriolanus. A dead march sounded. VOL. II. (1) Memorial. The tragedy of Coriolanus is one of the most amusing of our author's performances. The old man's merriment in Menenius; the lofty lady's dignity in Volumnia; the bridal modesty in Virgilia; the patrician and military haughtiness in Coriolanus; the plebeian malignity and tribunitian inso lence in Brutus and Sicinius, make a very pleasing and interesting variety; and the various revolutions of the hero's fortune, fill the mind with anxious curiosity. There is, perhaps, too much bustle in the first act, and too little in the last. 2 T JOHNSON. 2 Cit. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday, to see Cæsar, and to rejoice in his triumph. Mar. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home! What tributaries follow him to Rome, HENCE; home, you idle creatures, get you To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels? home; Is this a holiday? What! know you not, Of your profession ?-Speak, what trade art thou? Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule? 2 Cit. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler. Mar. But what trade art thou? Answer me directly. 2 Cit. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soals. Mar. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade? 2 Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet, if you be out, I can mend you. Mar. What meanest thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow ? 2 Cit. Why, sir, cobble you. Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thou? You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, And do you now put on your best attire ? Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude. Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault, 2 Cit. Truly, sir, all that I live by is, with the Assemble all the poor men of your sort ;1 awl: I meddle with no tradesmen's matters, nor Draw them to Tyber banks, and weep your tears women's matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, sir, Into the channel, till the lowest stream a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. [Exe. Cit. danger, I re-cover them. As proper men as ever See, whe'r their basest metal be not mov❜d; trod upon neat's-leather, have gone upon my handy-They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. work. Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets? (1) Rank. (2) Whether. Go you down that way towards the Capitol; (3) Honorary ornaments; tokens of respect. |