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I was forc'd to scold. Your judgements, my grave
lords, Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion (Who wears my stripes impress'd on him ; that must
bear My beating to his grave ;) shall join to thrust The lie unto him.
1 Lord. Peace, both, and bear me speak.
Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volces; men and lads,
Why, noble lords,
(Several speak at once. Cit. [ Speaking promiscuously. ] Tear him to pieces, do it presently. He killed my son ;- my daughter ;- He killed my cousin Marcus ;-He kill. ed my father.
2 Lord. Peace, ho ;-00 outrage ;- peace.
O, that I had him,
Insolent villain ! Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him. [Aufidius and the Conspirators draw, and
kill Coriolanus, who falls, and Aufidius. stands on him.
• His fame overspreads the world.
Hold, hold, hold, hold. Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak. 1 Lord.
o Tullus, 2 Lord. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour
3 Lord. Tread not upon him.-Masters all, be
Bear from hence his body,
His own impatience
My rage is gone,
A dead march sounded.
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 dig. nity in Volumpia; 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.
END OF VOL. VI.
Printed by S. Hamilton, Weybridge.