able to pierce a corslet with his eye; talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He sits in his state, as a thing made for Alexander.3 What he bids be done, is finish'd 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.4

Sic. The gods be good unto us !

Men. No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto When we banish'd him, we respected not them; and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us.

us.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to your house :

The plébeians have got your fellow-tribune,

And hale him up and down; all swearing, if

The Roman ladies bring not comfort home,
They'll give him death by inches.

Sic.

Enter a second Messenger.

What's the news?

2 Mess. Good news, good news! the ladies have pre

vail'd,

The Volscians are dislodged, and Marcius gone :

A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,

No, not th' expulsion of the Tarquins.

Sic.

Art certain this is true?

2 Mess.

Friend,

Ay, sir, most certain,

8 That is, like an image made in the likeness of Alexander.

4"Along of you" is because of you. So the phrase occurs repeatedly.

As certain as I know the Sun is fire:

Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it? Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide As the recomforted through th' gates. Why, hark 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! [Shouting again within. This is good news:

Men.

I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia

Is worth of Consuls, Senators, patricians,

A city full; of tribunes, such as you,

A sea and land full. You've pray'd well to-day :
This morning for ten thousand of your throats
I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy!

[Shouting and music still, within. Sic. First, the gods bless you for your tidings; next, Accept my thankfulness.

SCENE V. The Same. A Street near the Gate.

-

Enter in procession, VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, VALERIA, &c., accompanied by Senators, Patricians, and Citizens.

I Sen. Behold our patroness, the life of Rome !

Call all your tribes together, praise the gods,

And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before them :

Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius,

Repeal him with the welcome of his mother;
Cry, Welcome, ladies, welcome!

All

Welcome, ladies,

Welcome! [4 flourish with drums and trumpets. Exeunt.

SCENE VI. Corioli. A public Place.

Enter AUFIDIUS, with Attendants.

Auf. Go tell the lords o' the city I am here;
Deliver them this paper: having read it,
Bid them repair to th' market-place; where I,
Even in theirs and in the commons' ears,
Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse
The city ports by this hath enter'd, and
Intends t' appear before the people, hoping
To purge himself with words: dispatch.

[Exeunt Attendants.

Enter three or four Conspirators of AUFIDIUS's faction.

I Con. How is it with our general?
Auf.

Most welcome!

Even so

As with a man by his own alms empoison'd,
And with his charity slain.

2 Con.

Most noble sir,

If you do hold the same intent wherein

You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you

Of your great danger.

Auf.

Sir, I cannot tell :

We must proceed as we do find the people.

3 Con. The people will remain uncertain whilst 'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either Makes the survivor heir of all.

Auf.

I know it;

And my pretext to strike at him admits

A good construction. I raised him, and I pawn'd
Mine honour for his truth: who being so heighten'd,
He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery,
Seducing so my friends; and, to this end,

He bow'd his nature, never known before
But to be rough, unswayable, and fierce.
3 Con. Sir, his stoutness

When he did stand for Consul, which he lost
By lack of stooping, -

Auf.
That I would have spoke of.
Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth;
Presented to my knife his throat: I took him;
Made him joint-servant with me; gave him way
In all his own desires; nay, let him choose
Out of my files, his projects to accomplish,
My best and freshest men; served his designments
In mine own person; holp to reap the fame
Which he did end all his ; 1 and took some pride

To do myself this wrong: till, at the last,
I seem'd his follower, not partner; and
He waged me with his countenance,2 as if

1 It appears that end was and still is a technical term for the finishing of harvest-work. The Rev. Mr. Arrowsmith has produced, from recent advertisements in Gloucestershire, the phrases "well-ended wheat ricks" and "a rick of well-ended hay"; meaning, apparently, stacks of wheat well stored &c. So that the meaning of the text is, that Coriolanus had managed to appropriate for his own exclusive use the whole harvest of renown which Aufidius had helped to gather and prepare.

2 The sense of to wage, as here used, still lives in wages. So in Heywood's Wise Woman of Hogsdon: "I receive thee gladly to my house, and wage thy stay." The meaning in the text is, "He treated me as his dependent or hireling, and paid me with bland looks and patronizing airs, as a · kind of wages." Or countenance, here, as in at least two other places, may mean entertainment or reception. See vol. v. page 8, note 4.

I had been mercenary.

I Con.

So he did, my lord;

The army marvell'd at it; and, in the last,

When he had carried Rome, and that we look'd
For no less spoil than glory, ·

There was it;

Auf.
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. I 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 tear
With giving him glory.

3 Con.

Ere he express himself, or move the people

With what he would say,

Which we will second.

Therefore, at your vantage,

let him feel your sword,

When he lies along,

After your way his tale pronounced shall bury

His reasons with his body.

But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused.

What I have written to you?

I've not deserved it.

Lords.
I Lord.

We have.

And grieve to hear't.