Ere he exprefs himself, or move the people
With what he would fay, let him feel your sword,
When he lies along,

Which we will fecond.

After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury,

His reafons with his body.

Auf. Say no more,

Here come the Lords.

Enter the Lords of the City..

All Lords. You're most welcome home.
Auf. I have not deserv'd it.

But, worthy Lords, have you with heed perus'd
What I have written to you?

All. We have.

1 Lord. And grieve to hear it.

What faults he made before the laft, I think,
Might have found easy fines: but there to end,
Where he was to begin, and give away
The benefit of our levies, anfwering us
With our own charge, making a treaty where
There was a yielding, this admits no excufe.
Auf. He approaches, you shall hear him.

Enter Coriolanus, marching with drums and colours; the
Commons being with him.

Cor. Hail, Lords ;. I am return'd, your foldier ;
No more infected with my country's love,
Than when I parted hence, but still fubfifting
Under your great command. You are to know,
That profperously I have attempted, and
With bloody paffage led your wars, even to

The gates of Rome: Our spoils, we have brought home,
Do more than counterpoife, a full third part,
The charges of the action. We've made peace
With no lefs honour to the Autiates,

Than fhame to th' Romans and we here deliver,
Subfcribed by the confuls and patricians,.
Together with the feal o' th' Senate, what
We have compounded on.

Auf. Read it not, noble Lords.

But

But tell the traitor, in the highest degree
He hath abus'd your powers.
Cor. Traitor!-how now!
Auf. Ay, traitor, Marcius.
Cor. Marcius !-

Auf. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius; doft thou think, I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stoln name Coriolanus, in Corioli?

You Lords and heads o' th' ftate, perfidiously
He has betray'd your business, and given up
For certain drops of falt, your city Rome;
I fay, your city, to his wife and mother;
Breaking his oath and refolution, like
A twist of rotten filk, never admitting
Counfel o' th' 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 wond'ring each at other..

Cor. Hear'ft thou, Mars

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

Auf. No more..

Cor. Meafureless liar, thou haft made my heart Too great for what contains it. Boy? O flave!— Pardon me, Lords, 'tis the first time that ever I'm forc'd to fcold. Your judgments, my grave Lords, Must give this cur the lye; and his own notion, (Who wears my ftripes impreft upon him; that Muft bear my beating to his grave;) shall join To thruft the lye unto him.

1 Lord. Peace both, and hear me speak. Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volfcians, men and lads, Stain all your edges in me. Boy! falfe hound!you have writ your annals true, 'tis there, That, like an eagle in a dove-coat, L

If

Flutter'd your Volfcians in Corioli.

Alone I did it. Boy!

Auf. Why, noble Lords,

Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune,

Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart,

'Fort

'Fore your own eyes and ears?

All Con. Let him die for't.

All People. Tear him to pieces, do it prefently ::
He kill'd my fon,-my daughter,-kill'd my coufin,-
He kill'd my father. [The Croud fpeak promifcuously.
2 Lord. Peace,-no outrage-peace-

The man is noble, and his fame folds in
This orb o'th' earth; his last offences to us
Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius,
And trouble not the peace.

Cor. O that I had him,

With fix Aufidius's, or more, his tribe,
To ufe my lawful fword-

Auf. Infolent villain !

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

[The Confpirators all draw, and kill Marcius, who falls, and Aufidius ftands on him.

Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold.

Auf. My noble mafters, hear me fpeak..
Lord. O Tullus-

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

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

Auf My Lords, when you fhall 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 To call me to your Senate, I'll deliver Myfelf your loyal fervant, or endure Your heaviest cenfure.

Lord. Bear from hence his body,

And mourn you for him.

Let him be regarded

As the most noble coarfe, that ever herald
Did follow to his urn.

z 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 ftruck with forrow: take him up:

Help,

Help, three o' th' chiefeft foldiers; I'll be one. (42)
Beat thou the drum, that it fpeak mournfully:
Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he
Hath widowed and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail the injury,
Yet he shall have a noble memory.

[Exeunt,bearing the body of Marcius. Adead march founded.

(42) Help, three o' th' chiefeft foldiers; I'll be one.].

Not one of the three, but one to affift them: he would make the fourth man. So, in the conclufion of Hamlet;