Coriolanus. Cor. Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, Vagabond exile, flaying. Pent to linger But with a grain a day, I would not buy Their mercy at the price of one fair word. Vol. Had I a dozen sons,-each in my love alike, and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius,-I had rather had eleven die nobly for their country, than one voluptuously surfeit out of action. Cor. Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your voices, that I may be consul, I have here the customary gown. Act 11. Scene III. Vol. I pry'thee now, sweet son, as thou hast said, My praises made thee first a soldier, so, To have my praise for this, perform a part Thou hast not done before. Cor. A goodly house the feast smells well; but I Appear not like a guest. Act IV. Scene IV. Cor. -Be gone! Mine ears against your suits are stronger, than Your gates against my force. Act V. Scene II. |