moon, Shouting their emulation. Of their own choice: One's Junius Brutus, Men. Enter a Messenger, hastily. Mess. Where 's Caius Marcius? Ruth-pity-another old word. Pick-pitch. ■ Gird. This is the verb of Falstaff's noun, Every man has a gird at me." b There is much dispute about the meaning of this sentence. "The present wars devour him" is clear enough, we think; the wars absorb, eat up the whole man: and then comes the explanation; he is grown too proud of his valour-of being so valiant. • Demerits. The word is used in a similar sense in Othello, that of merits. The meaning of ill-deserving was acquired later; for demerit is constantly used for desert by elliptically, whatever things have. the old writers. Whatever have Had circumvention? "T is not four days gone Since I heard thence; these are the words: I think I have the letter here; yes, here it is: [Reads. (Who is of Rome worse hated than of you,) 1 Sen. Our army 's in the field: We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready To answer us. Auf. Nor did you think it folly To keep your great pretences veil'd till when They needs must show themselves; which in yourself in a more comfortable sort: If my son were my husband, I should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won honour, than in the embracements of his bed, where he would show most love. When yet he was but tender-bodied, and the only son of my womb; when youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way; when, for a day of kings' entreaties, a mother should not sell him an hour from her beholding; I,-considering how honour would become such a person; that it was no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if renown made it not stir,-was pleased to let him seek danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows bound with oak.' I tell thee, daughter,—I sprang not more in joy at first hearing he was a manchild, than now in first seeing he had proved himself a man. Vir. But had he died in the business, madam? how then? Vol. Then his good report should have been my son; I therein would have found issue. Hear me profess sincerely:-Had I a dozen sons, each in my love alike, and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their country, than one voluptuously surfeit out of action. With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes; Like to a harvest-man, that's task'd to mow Vir. His bloody brow! O, Jupiter, no blood! Vol. Away, you fool! it more becomes a man Than gilt his trophy: The breasts of Hecuba, When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier Than Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood At Grecian swords' contending.-Tell Valeria We are fit to bid her welcome. [Exit Gent. Vir. Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius ! Vol. He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee, And tread upon his neck. Re-enter Gentlewoman, with VALERIA and her Usher. Val. My ladies both, good day to you. Vir. I am glad to see your ladyship. Val. How do you both? you are manifest housekeepers. What are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good faith.-How does your little son? Vir. I thank your ladyship; well, good madam. Vol. He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, than look upon his schoolmaster. Val. O' my word, the father's son: I'll swear 't is a very pretty boy. O' my troth, I looked upon him o' Wednesday half an hour together: he has such a confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded butterfly; and when he caught it, he let it go again; and after it again; and over and over he comes, and up again; catched it again or whether his fall enraged him, or how 't was, he did so set his teeth, and tear it; O, I warrant, how he mammocked it! Vol. One of his father's moods. Val. Indeed la, 't is a noble child. Val. Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play the idle huswife with me this afternoon. Vir. No, good madam; I will not out of doors. I would your cambric were sensible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us. Vir. No, good madam, pardon me; indeed I will not forth. Val. In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you excellent news of your husband. Vir. O, good madam, there can be none yet. Val. Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from him last night. Vir. Indeed, madam? Val. In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it. Thus it is :-The Volces have an army forth, against whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of our Roman power: your lord and Titus Lartius are set down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief wars. This is true, on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us. Vir. Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in everything hereafter. Vol. Let her alone, lady; as she is now, she will but disease our better mirth. Val. In troth, I think she would :— -Fare you well then.-Come, good sweet lady.-Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy solemnness out o' door, and go along with us. Vir. No: at a word, madam, indeed I must not. I wish you much mirth. Val. Well, then farewell. SCENE IV.—Before Corioli.5 [Exeunt. Enter, with drums and colours, MARCIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, Officers, and Soldiers. To them a Messenger. Mar. Yonder comes news:-A wager, they have met. Lart. My horse to yours, no. 'Tis done. Mar. For half a hundred years.-Summon the town. Within this mile and half. Mar. Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they ours. Val. You would be another Penelope : yet, they say, all the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence did but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come; Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work; you, You shames of Rome !—you herd of—Boils and plagues Plaster you o'er; that you may be abhorr'd Further than seen, and one infect another Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese That bear the shapes of men, how have you run From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell! All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge home, Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe, seconds: "T is for the followers fortune widens them, Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like. [He enters the gates, and is shut in. 1 Sol. Fool-hardiness; not I. 2 Sol. Nor I. 3 Sol. See, they have shut him in. [Alarum continues. All. To the pot, I warrant him. Enter TITUS LARTIUS. Lart. What is become of Marcius? All. Slain, sir, doubtless. 1 Sol. Following the fliers at the very heels, With them he enters: who, upon the sudden, Clapp'd-to their gates; he is himself alone, To answer all the city. Lart. O noble fellow! Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword, Marcius: A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art, Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier Were feverous, and did tremble. The original has "Calues wish.” This is evidently a typographical error; but Mr. Monck Mason would have us read Calvus' wish: who Calvus is he does not explain. We quite agree with Malone that the manuscript was Catoes; easily mistaken and rendered by the printer Calues. But we do not agree with him that Shakspere committed the anachronism in ignorance. Plutarch, describing the valiant deeds of Coriolanus, says (North's translation), "He was even such another as Cato would have a soldier and a captain to be." Shakspere puts nearly the same words in the mouth of Lartius; feeling that Lartius, in thus conveying the sentiment of Plutarch, was to the audience as a sort of chorus. He had no vision of a critic before him, book in hand, calling out that Cato was not born till two hundred and fifty-three years after the death of Coriolanus. Now Mr. Malone, with his exact chronology of the death of Coriolanus, commits in the eyes of modern learning as great a blunder as Shakspere commits in his eyes. We hold to the reading of "Cato's wish," which Theobald very sensibly gave us. T A |