Breaking his oath and resolution, like

A twist of rotten silk; never admitting

Counsel o' the war; but at his nurse's tears
He whin'd and roar'd away your victory;
That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart
Look'd wondering each at other.

Cor. Hear'st thou, Mars?

Auf. Name, not the god, thou boy of tears-
Cor. Ha!

Auf. No more.

620

my

heart

Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made
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
(Who wears my stripes imprest upon him; that
Must bear my beating to his grave) shall join
To thrust the lie unto him.

1 Lord. Peace, both, and hear me speak.
Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volsces, men and lads,
Stain all your edges in me.-Boy! False hound!
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
That, like an eagle on a dove-cote, I
Flutter'd your Volsces in Corioli:
Alone I did it. -Boy!

Auf. Why, noble lords,

Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune,

630

Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart,

'Fore your own eyes and ears?

640

All

All Con. Let him die for't.

All People. Tear him to pieces, do it presently.

[The Crowd speak promiscuously.

He kill'd my son-My daughter-He kill'd my cousin

Marcus.

He kill'd my father.

2 Lord. Peace, ho!—no outrage ;—peace.— The man is noble, and his fame folds in

This orb o' the earth: His last offences to us

Shall have judicious hearing.-Stand, Aufidius,
And trouble not the peace.

Cor. O, that I had him,

With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe,

To use my lawful sword!

Auf. Insolent villain !

All Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.

650

[AUFIDIUS and the Conspirators draw, and kill MARCIUS, who falls, and AUFIDIUS stands on him.

Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold.

Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak.

1 Lord. O Tullus

2 Lord. Thou hast done a deed, whereat Valour will weep.

3 Lord. Tread not upon him.-Masters all, be quiet; Put up your swords.

661 Auf. My lords, when you shall know (as in this rage, Provok'd by him, you cannot) the great danger Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours

Το

To call me to your senate, I'll deliver
Myself your loyal servant, or endure
Your heaviest censure.

1 Lord. Bear from hence his body,

And mourn you for him: let him be regarded
As the most noble corse, that ever herald
Did follow to his urn.

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 o' the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.—
Beat thou the drum, that 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.

670

681

[Exeunt, bearing the Body of MARCIUS. A dead March sounded.

THE END.

BY

SAM. JOHNSON & GEO. STEEVENS,

AND

THE VARIOUS COMMENTATORS,

UPON

CORIOLANUS,

WRITTEN BY

WILL. SHAKSPERE.

-SIC ITUR AD ASTRA.

VIRG.

LONDON:

Printed for, and under the Direction of,

JOHN BELL, British-Lihrary. STRAND, Bookseller to His Royal Highness the PRINCE of WALES.

M DCC LXXXVII.