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Coriolanus.

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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.

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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.

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Cor.

-Be gone!

Mine ears against your suits are stronger, than Your gates against my force.

Act V. Scene II.

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