mother now, than an eight years old horfe. The tartnefs of his face fours ripe grapes. When he walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground fhrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corflet with his eye: talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He fits in his state as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done is finifh'd with his bidding. He wants nothing of a God, but eternity, and a heaven to throne in. Sic. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly. Men. I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his mother shall bring from him; there is no more mercy in him, than there is milk in a male tyger; that fhal! our poor city find; and all this is long of you. Sic. The Gods be good unto us! Men. No, in fuch a cafe the Gods will not be good unto us. When we banish'd him, we refpected not them and he returning to break our necks, they respect not us. Enter a Meffenger. Mef. Sir, if you'd fave your life, fly to your house; Enter another Messenger. Sic. What's the news? Mef. Good news, good news, the ladies have prevail'd, The Volfcians are diflodg'd, and Martius gone: A merrier day did never yet greet Rome, No, not th' Expulfion of the Tarquins. Sic. Friend, Art certain this is true? is it most certain? Mef. As certain as I know the fun is fire: Where have you lurk'd that you make doubt of it? The The trumpets, fackbuts, pfalteries and fifes, Men. This is good news: I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia [A fhout within. A fea and land full. You've pray'd well to-day: Sic. First, the Gods blefs Accept my thankfulness. [Sound fill with the fhouts. you for your tidings! next Mef. Sir, we have all great caufe to give great thanks. Sic. They're near the city? Mef. Almoft at point to enter. Sic. We'll meet them, and help the joy: [Exeunt. Enter two Senators with the Ladies paffing over the stage, with other Lords. Sen. Behold our patronefs, the life of Rome: Call all your tribes together, praise the Gods, And make triumphant fires: ftrew flowers before them : Unthout the noise that banifh'd Martius; Repeal him with the welcome of his mother: Cry, Welcome, Ladies, welcome! All. Welcome, Ladies, welcome! [Exeunt. [A flourish with drums and trumpets. SCENE V. ANTIU M. Enter Tullus Aufidius, weth Attendants. Auf-G Even Even in theirs and in the common ears, Enter three or four Confpirators of Aufidius's faction. Moft welcome! 1 Con. How is it with our General ? As with a man by his own alms impoyfon'd, 2 Con. Moft noble Sir, If you do hold the fame intent, wherein Auf. Sir, I cannot tell ; We must proceed as we do find the people. 3 Con. The people will remain uncertain, whilft 'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either Makes the furvivor heir of all. Auf. I know it; And my pretext to ftrike at him admits A good conftruction. I rais'd him, and pawn'd When he did ftand for Conful, which he loft Auf. That I would have fpoke of: Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth, Out Out of my files, his projects to accomplish, I Con. So he did, my Lord: The army marvell'd at it, and at laft When he had carried Rome, and that we look'd Auf. There was it: For which my finews fhall be ftretch'd upon him: [Drums and trumpets found, with great shouts of the people. I Con. Your native town you enter'd like a post, And had no welcomes home, but he returns Splitting the air with noise. 2 Con. And patient fools, Whose children he hath flain, their bafe throats tear 3 Con. Therefore at your vantage, Ere he exprefs himfelf, or move the people With what he would fay, let him feel your fword, Auf. Say no more, Here come the Lords. Enter the Lords of the City. All Lords. You are most welome home. Auf. I have not deferv'd it. But, But, worthy Lords, have you with heed perus'd All. We have. 1 Lord. And grieve to hear it. What faults he made before the laft, I think S CE NE VI. Enter Coriolanus marching with drums and colours, the Cor. Hail, Lords; I am return'd, your foldier ; The gates of Rome: our fpoils we have brought home Than fhame to th' Romans: and we here deliver, Auf. Read it not, noble Lords: But tell the traitor in the highest degree He hath abus'd your powers. Cor. Traitor! how now! Auf. Ay, traitor, Martius. Cor. Martius! Auf. Ay, Martius, Caius Martius; doft thou think 4 written to you? I'll |