3 Con. The people will remain uncertain, whilst "Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either Makes the survivor heir of all.

I know it;

Auf.
And my pretext to strike at him admits

A good construction. I rais'd him, and I pawn'd
Mine honour for his truth: who being so heighten'd,
He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery,
Seducing so my friends; and to this end,

He bow'd his nature, never known before
But to be rough, unswayable, and free.

3 Con. Sir, his stoutness,

When he did stand for consul, which he lost
By lack of stooping,-

Auf.

That I would have spoke of.

Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth;
Presented to my knife his throat: I took him;
Made him joint-servant with me; gave him way
In all his own desires; nay, let him choose
Out of my files, his projects to accomplish,
My best and freshest men; serv'd his designments
In mine own person; holp to reap the fame
Which he did end all his; and took some pride
To do myself this wrong: till, at the last,
I seem'd his follower, not partner; and
He waged me with his countenance3, as if
I had been mercenary.

1 Con.

So he did, my lord;

The army marvell'd at it; and, in the last,
When he had carried Rome, and that we look'd
For no less spoil, than glory,-

Auf.

There was it;

For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him.

At a few drops of women's rheum, which are

As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour

5 He WAGED me with his countenance,] i. e. He paid me, or remunerated me with his countenance. To "wage," in this sense, was not in unfrequent use.

Of our great action: therefore shall he die,
And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark!

[Drums and Trumpets sound, with great Shouts of
the People.

1 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 slain, their base throats tear With giving him glory.

3 Con.

Therefore, at your vantage,

Ere he express himself, or move the people

With what he would say, let him feel your sword,
Which we will second. When he lies along,

After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury

His reasons with his body.

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

Lords.

1 Lord.

We have.

And grieve to hear it.

What faults he made before the last, I think,

Might have found easy fines; but there to end,
Where he was to begin, and give away
The benefit of our levies, answering us
With our own charge, making a treaty where
There was a yielding; this admits no excuse.
Auf. He approaches: you shall hear him.

Enter CORIOLANUS, with Drums and Colours; a Crowd of Citizens with him.

Cor. Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier;

No more infected with my country's love,
Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting
Under your great command. You are to know,
That prosperously I have attempted, and

With bloody passage led your wars, even to

The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home,

Do more than counterpoise, a full third part,
The charges of the action. We have made peace,
With no less honour to the Antiates,

Than shame to the Romans; and we here deliver,
Subscrib'd by the consuls and patricians,

Together with the seal o' the senate, what
We have compounded on.

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.

Cor.

Ay, traitor, Marcius.
Marcius!

Auf. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius. Dost thou think I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name Coriolanus in Corioli?

You lords and heads of the state, perfidiously
He has betray'd your business, and given up
For certain drops of salt your city, Rome,
I say your city, to his wife and mother;
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".

Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart 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 impress'd 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 on me.-Boy! False hound!
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
That like an eagle in a dove-cote, I

Flutter'd your Volscians 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, 'Fore your own eyes and ears?

All Con. Let him die for't.

All People. Tear him to pieces; do it presently. He killed my son;-my daughter:-he killed my cousin Marcus-he killed my father.

2 Lord. Peace, ho!-no outrage :-peace!

No more.] According to Monck Mason, Aufidius does not mean by these words to put a stop to the altercation, but to say that Coriolanus was "no more" than "a boy of tears."

7 FLUTTER'D your VOLSCIANS in Corioli:] Malone (Shakespeare by Boswell, vol. xxiv. p. 225) reads "Flutter'd your voices," and in this remarkable deviation from all the old copies, he is followed in many modern editions: neither does he assign the slightest reason for the alteration. The first and second folio have Flatter'd for "Flutter'd," an obvious error, but not corrected until the publication of the third folio.

8 All People.] This is the prefix in the old copies, and it is not only unnecessary, but less forcible, to change it to "Cit. Speaking promiscuously,” as it stands in modern editions. In the same way, All Con., in the preceding line, means all the conspirators, and not "several speaking at once," as Malone and others give it.

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!

[AUFIDIUS and the Conspirators draw, and kill CORIOLANUS, who falls: AUFIDIUS stands on

Lords.

him.

Hold, hold, hold, hold!

O Tullus!—

Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak. 1 Lord.

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.

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
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,