Than can our Reasons. There is no Man in the World
More bound to's Mother, yet here he lets me prate
Like one i'th' Stocks. Thou haft never in thy Life,
Shew'd thy dear Mother any Curtelie,
When the (poor Hen) fond of no second Brood,
Has cluck'd thee to the Wars, and safely home
Loaden with Honour. Say my Request's unjust,
And spurn me back: But if it be not so,
Thou are not Honest, and the Gods will plague thee
That thou restrain'st from me the Duty, which
To a Mother's part belongs. He turns away;
Down Ladies; let us Chame him with our Knees.
To his Sir-name, Coriolanus, 'longs more Pride,
Than Pity to our Prayers. Down; and end, ,
This is the last. So, we will home to Rome,
And die among our Neighbours: Nay, behold's.
This Boy, that cannot tell what he would have,
But kneeli, and holds up Hands for Fellowship,
Does reason our Petition with more Strength,
Than thou hast to deny't. Come, let us go:
This Fellow had'a Volícian to his Mother;
His Wife is in Coriolus, and his Child
Like him by chance; yet give us our Dispatch:
I am hulht until our City be afire, and then I'll speak a little.

(Holds her by the Hand, filent.
Cor. O Mother, Mother!
What have you done? Behold, the Heav'ns do ope,
The Gods look down, and this unnatural Scene
They laugh at. Oh, my Mother, Mother: Oh!
You have won a happy. Vi&ory to Rome.
But for your Son, believe it, Oh believe it,
Most dangerously you have with him prevaild,
If not moft Mortal to him. But let it come:
Aufidius, though I cannot make true Wars,
1 il frame convenient Peace. Now, good Anfiditas,
Were you in my stead, would you have heard
A Mother less á Or granted less, Aufidius?

Auf. I was mov'd withal.

Cor. I dare be sworn you were ;
And, Sir, it is no little thing to make
Mines Eyes to sweat Compassion, Buç, good Sir,

Wha

What Peace you'll make, advise me: For my part,
I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you, and pray you
Stand to me in this Caule. O Mother! Wife!

Auf. I am glad thou hast set thy Mercy, and thy Honour At difference in thee; out of that I'll work [Alide. My self a former Fortune.

Cor. Ay, by and by; but we will drink together; And you shall bear

[70 Vol. Virg. c. A better witness back than words, which we On like Conditions, will have counter-sealid. Come, enter with us: Ladies, you deserve To have a Temple built you: All the Swords In Italy, and her Confederate Arms Could not have made this Peace.

[Exeunt. SCENE III. Rome.

. Enter Menenius and Sicinius. Men. See you yond Coin o'th'Capitol, yond Corner Stone? Sic. Why, what of that ?

Men. If it be possible for you to displace it with your little Finger, there is some hope the Ladies of Rome, espe. cially his Mother, may prevail with him. But I say, there is no hope in't, our Throats are sentenc'd, and Itay upon Execution.

Sic. Is't pollible that so short a time can alter the condi. tion of a Man.

Men. There is difference between a Grub and a Butterfly, yet your Butterfly was a Grub; this Martins is grown from Man to Dragon: He has Wings, he's more than a creeping thing.

Sic. He lov'd his Mother dearly.

Men. So did he me; and he no more remembers his Mother now, than an eight years old Horse. The cartness of his Face sours ripe Grapes. When he walks, he moves like an Engine, and the Ground shrinks before his Treading. He is able to pierce a Coillet 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 finish'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.

us.

Men. I paint him in the Chara&er. Mark what Mercy his Mother fall bring from him; there is no more Mercy in him, than there is Milk in a Male-Tyger; that shall our poor City find; and all this is long of you.

Sic. The Gods be good unto us.
Men. No, in such a case the Gods will not be good unto

When we banish'd him, we refpe&ed not them: And he returning to break our Necks, they respe& not us.

Enter a Messenger, Mef. Sir, if you'd save your Lifeiflye to your House, The Plebeians have got your Fellow-Tribune, And hale him up and down, all swearing, if The Roman Ladies bring oot Comfort home, They'll give him Death by Inches.

Enter another Messenger. Sic. What's the News?

Mes. Good News, good News, the Ladies have prevailid, The Volscies are dislodg'd, and Martins gone : A merrier Day did never yet greet Rome, No, not th’ Expulsion of the Tarquins.

Sic. Friend, are thou certain this is true? Is't most certain?

Mef. As certain as I know the Sun is Fire : Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it? Ne'er through an Arch fo hurried the blown Tide, As the recomforted through th' Gates. Why, hark you.

[Trumpets, Hautboys, Drums beat, all tagether.
The Trumpets, Sackburs, Plalteries and Fifes,
Tabors and Cymbals, and the shouting Romans
Make the Sun dance. Hark you. [Amout within.

Men. This is good News:
I will go meet the Ladies. This Volumnia
Is worth of Consuls, Senators, Patricians,
A Ciry full: Of Tribunes, such as you,
A Sea and Land full; you have pray'd well to Day:
This Morning, for ten thousand of your Throats,
I'd not have given a doit. Hark how they joy.

Sound still with the Shonts.
Sic. First, the Gods bless you for your Tidings:
Next, accept my Thankfulness.

Mes. Sir, we bave all great cause to give great chanks. . Sic. They are near the City?

Mef.

Mes. Almost at point to enter.
Sic. We'll meet them, and help the Joy. [Exénnt.
Enter two Senators, with Ladies passing over the Ssage with

other Lords.
Sen. Behold our Patroness, the life of Rome:
Call all your Tribes together, praise the Gods,
And make triumphant Fires, strew Flowers before them:
Upfhout the Noise that banish'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 IV. Antium.

Enter Tullus Aufidius, with Attendants.
Auf. Go tell the Lords o'th City, I am here:
Deliver them this Paper: Having read it,
Bid them repair to th' Market-place, where I
Even in theirs, and in the Commons Ears,
Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse
The City Ports by this hath enter'd, and
Intends t'appear before the People, hoping
To

purge himself with words. Dispatch.

Enter three or four Conspirators of Aufidius's Fa£tion. Most welcome.

i Con. How is it with our General ?

Auf. Even so, as with a Man by his own Alms impoy. fon'd, and with his Charity Ilain.

2 Con. Most roble Sir, if you do hold the fame intent,
Wherein you with'd us Parties; we'll deliver you
of your great danger.

Auf. Sir, I cannot tell,
We must proceed as we do find the People.

3 Con. The People will remain uncertain, whilst
'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either
Makes the Survivor Heir of all.

Auf. I know it;
And my pretext to strike at him admits
A good Construcior. I rais'd him, and I pawn'd

..
Mine Honour for his Truth; whɔ being so heighten’d,
He water'd his new Plants with dews of Flattery,
Seducing so my Friends; and to this erd,

не

He bowd his Nature, never known before,
But to be rough, unswayable, and free.

3 Con. Sir, his Stoutes
When he did stand for Conful, which he loft
By lack of stooping

Anf. That I would have spoke of:
Being banith'd for's, 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 defires; nay, let him chufe
Out of my Files, his Proje&s to accomplish,
My best and freshest Men; farv'd his Designments
In mine own Person; bop'd to reap the Fame
Which he did make all this; and cook some Pride
To do my self this wrong; 'till at the last,
I seem'd'his Follower, not Pariner; and
He wag'd me with his Countenance, as if
I had been Mercenary.
1 Con. So he did, my Lord;

.
The Army marvelld 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 Womens Rheum, which are
As cheap as Lies, he sold the Blood and Labour
Of our great Adion; therefore shall he dye,
And I'll renew me in his fall. But hark,

[Drums and Trumpets Sound, with great shouts of tbe Peoples

i Con. Your Native Town you enter'd like a Poft, And had no welcomes home, but he returns Splitting the Air with Neise.

2 Con. And patient Fools,
Whose Children he hath flain, their base Threats tear
With giving him Glory.
3

Con. Therefore at your vantage,
E'er 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, mall bury
His Reasons with his Body.

Auf.

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