I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy ftol'n name
Coriolanus, in Corioli?

You Lords and head o' th' ftate, perfidiously
He has betray'd your bufinefs, and given up,
For certain drops of falt, your city Rome,
I fay your city, to his wife and mother;
Breaking his oath and resolution like
A twist of rotten filk, never admitting
Counsel o' th' war; but at his nurfe's tears
He whin'd and roar'd away your victory,
That pages blufh'd at him, and men of heart
Look'd wondring each at other.

Cor. Hear'ft thou, Mars?

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

Auf. No more.

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

1 Lord. Peace both, and hear me fpeak.

Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volfcians, 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 in a dove-coat, I

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 fhame, by this unholy braggart,

'Fore your own eyes and ears?

All Con. Let him die for't.
All Cit. Tear him to pieces,

VOL. V.

5 that ever I'm

do it presently.

N

Lords,

Cit.

Cit. He kill'd my fon.

2 Cit. My daughter.
3 Cit. Kill'd my coufin.

4 Cit. He kill'd my father.

2 Lord. Peace — no outrage

peace

The man is noble, and his fame folds in

This orb o' th' earth; his laft 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 Martius, who falls, and Aufidius ftands on him.

Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold.

Auf. My noble Lords, hear me fpeak.
1 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 fwords.

6

Auf. My Lords, when I fhall fhew (as in this rage Provok'd by him, 7'I cannot) the great danger Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice That he is thus cut off. Pleafe it your Honours To call me to your Senate, I'll deliver My felf your loyal fervant, or endure Your heaviest cenfure.

1 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.

2 Lord. His own impatience

Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame:
Let's make the best of it.

6 you fhall know

7 you

Auf

Auf. My rage is gone,

And I am ftruck with forrow: take him up:
Help three o' th' chiefeft foldiers; I'll be one.
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 Martius. A dead march founded.

JULIUS

CÆSA R.