Her richest Lockram 'bout her reechy Neck,
Clambring the Walls to eye him;

Stalls, Bulks, Windows, are fmother'd up,
Leads fill'd, and Ridges hors'd

With variable Complexions; all agreeing
In earnestnefs to fee him: Seld-fhown Flamins
Do prefs among the popular Throngs, and puff
To win a vulgar Station; our veil'd Dames
Commit the War of White and Damask

In their nicely gawded Cheeks, to th' wanton Spoil
Of Phabus burning Kiffes; fuch a pother,
As if that, whatfoever, God, who leads him,
Were flily crept into his human Powers,
And gave him graceful pofture.

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Sic. On the fudden, I warrant him Conful. Bru. Then our Office may, during his Power, go fleep. Sic. He cannot temp'rately tranfport his Honours, From where he should begin and end, but will

Lose those he hath won.

Bru. In that there's Comfort.

Sic. Doubt not,

The Commoners, for whom we ftand, but they
Upon their ancient Malice. will forget,

With the leaft Cause, these his new Honours;
Which that he will give them, make I as little queftion
As he is proud to do't.

Bru. I heard him swear

Were he to stand for Conful never would he
Appear i'th' Market-place, nor on him put
The Napless Vesture of humility,

Nor fhewing, as the manner is, his Wounds
To th' People, beg their ftinking Breaths.
Sic. 'Tis right.

Bru. It was his word:

Oh he would mifs it, rather than carry it,

But by the fuit of the Gentry to him,

And the defire of the Nobles.

Sic. I with no better, than have him hold that purpose,

and to put it in Execution.

Bru. 'Tis moft like he will.

Sic. It fhall be to him then, as our good wills; A fure Deftruction.

Bru. So it must fall out

To him, or our Authorities,, for an end.
We must fuggeft the People, in what hatred

He ftill hath held them; that to's Power he would
Have made them Mules, filenc'd their Pleaders,
And difproportioned their Freedoms; holding them,
In human Action and Capacity,

Of no more Soul nor fitnefs for the World,.
Than Camels in their War, who have their Provand
Only for bearing Burthens, and fore Blows
For finking under them.

Sic. This, as you fay, fuggefted,

At fome time, when his foaring Infolence
Shall teach the People; which time shall not want,
If he be put upon't, and that's as eafie,

As to fet Dogs on Sheep; we'll be his Fire
To kindle their dry Stubble; and their Blaze.
Shall darken him for ever.

Enter a Messenger.

Bru. What's the Matter?

Mef. You are fent for to the Capitol: 'Tis thought that Martius fhall be Conful:

I have seen the dumb Men throng to fee him,

And the blind to hear him fpeak; Matrons flung Gloves,
Ladies and Maids their Scarfs and Handkerchiefs,
Upon him, as he pafs'd; the Nobles bended
As to Jove's Statue, and the Commons made

A Shower and Thunder, with their Caps and Shouts :
I never faw the like.

Bru. Let's to the Capitol,

And carry with us Ears and Eyes for th' time,
But Hearts for the Event.

Sic. Have with you.

·་

[Exeunt.

Enter two Officers, to lay Cushions, as in the Capitol.

1 Off. Come, come, they are almost here; how many stand for Confulships?

2 Off. Three, they fay; but 'tis thought of every one, Coriolanus will carry it.

!

1. Of. That's a brave Fellow, but he's vengeance proud, and loves not the Common People.

2. Of. 'Faith, there have been many great Men that have flatter'd the People, who ne'er lov'd them, and there be many that they have loved, they know not wherefore; fo that if they love they know not why, they hate upon no better a Ground. Therefore, for Coriolanus neither to care whether they love, or hate him, manifefts the true Knowledge he has in their Difpofition, and out of his noble Carelessness lets them plainly fee't.

1. Of. If he did not care whether he had their love, or no, he waved indifferently, 'twixt doing them neither Good, nor Harm: But he feeks their Hate with greater Devotion, than they can render it him; and leaves nothing undone, that may fully discover him their Oppofite. Now to seem to affect the Malice and Difpleasure of the People, is as bad as that which he diflikes, to flatter them for their love.

2. Of. He hath deferv'd worthily of his Country: And his Afcent is not by fuch eafie Degrees as thofe, who have been fupple and courteous to the People, Bonnetted, without any further Deed, to have them at all into their Eftimation and Report: But he hath fo planted his Honours in their Eyes, and his Actions in their Hearts, that for their Tongues to be filent, and not confefs fo much, were a kind of ingrateful Injury; to report otherwife, were a Malice, that giving it felf the Lie, would pluck Reproof and Rebuke from ev'ry Ear that heard it.

1. Of. No more of him, he is a worthy Man: Make way, they are coming.

A Sonnet. Enter the Patricians, and the Tribunes of the People, Lictors before them; Coriolanus, Menenius, Cominius the Conful: Sicinius and Brutus take their Places by themselves.

Men. Having determin'd of the Volfcies, And to fend for Titus Lartius; it remains, As the main Point of this our after-meeting,

To gratifie his noble Service, that hath

Thus ftood for his Country. Therefore, please you,
Moft Reverend and Grave Elders, to defire

The prefent Conful, and laft General,

'Vol. IV.

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In our well-found Succeffes, to report
A little of that worthy Work perform'd
By Caius Martins Coriolanus; whom
We met here, both to thank, and to remember
With Honours like himself.

1 Sen. Speak, good Cominius:

Leave nothing out for length, and make us think
Rather our State's defective for Requital,

Than we to ftretch it out. Masters o' th' People,
We do request your kindeft Ear, and after,.
Your loving Motion toward the common Body,
To yield what paffes here.

Sic. We are convented upon a pleafing Treaty, and have Hearts inclinable to Honour, and advance the Theam of our Affembly.

Bru. Which the rather we fhall be bleft to do, if he remember a kinder Value of the People, than he hath hitherto priz'd them at.

Men. That's off, that's off: I wou'd you rather had been filent: Please you to hear Cominius (peak?

Bru. Moft willingly: But yet my Caution was more pertinent than the Rebuke you give it.

Men. He loves your People, but tye him not to be their Bedfellow: Worthy Cominius, fpeak.

[Coriolanus rifes, and offers to go away.

Nay, keep your Place.

1 Sen. Sir Coriolanus, never fhame to hear

What you have nobly done.

Cor. Your Honour's Pardon:

I had rather have my Wounds to heal again,

Than hear fay how I got them.

Bru. Sir, I hope my Words dif-bench'd
Cor. No, Sir; yet oft,

you not?

When Blows have made me ftay, I fled from Words.
You footh'd not, therefore hurt not: But your People,
I love them as they weigh-

Men. Pray now, fit down.

Cor. I had rather have one fcratch my Head i'th' Sun,

When the Alarum were ftruck, than idly fit

To hear my Nothings monster'd

[Exit Coriolanus.

Men

Me. Mafters of the People,

Your multiplying Spawn how can he flatter,

That's thoufand to one good one? when you now fee
He had rather venture all his Limbs for Honour,
Than one of's Ears to hear it. Proceed, Cominius.
Com. I fhall lack Voice: The Deeds of Coriolanus

Should not be utter'd feebly. It is held
That Valour is the chiefeft Virtue, and
Moft dignifies the Haver: If it be,

The Man I speak of cannot in the World
Be fingly counter-pois'd. At fixteen Years,
When Tarquin made a Head for Rome, he fought
Beyond the Mark of others: Our then Dictator,
Whom with all Praife I point at, faw him fight,
When with his Amazonian Chin he drove
The briftled Lips before him: He beftrid
An o'er-preft Roman, and i'th' Conful's view
Slew three Oppofers: Tarquin's felf he met,
And ftruck him on his Kee: In that Day's Feats,
When he might act the Woman in the Scene,
He prov'd beft Man i'ch' Field, and for his Meed
Was Brow-bound with the Oak. His Pupil-age
Man-enter'd thus, he waited like a Sca,

And in the Brunt of feventeen Battels fince,
He lurcht all Swords o'th' Garland. For this laft,
Before, and in Coriolus, let me fay

I cannot speak him home: He ftopt the Fliers,
And by his rare Example, made the Coward
Turn Terror into Sport: As Waves before
A Veffel under Sail, fo Men obey'd,

And fell below his Stem: His Sword (Death's Stamp)
Where it did mark, it took from Face to Foot:
He was a thing of Blood, whofe
every Motion
Was trimm'd with dying Cries: Alone he entred
The mortal Gate o'th' City, which he painted
With fhunless Defamy: Aidlefs came off,
And with a fudden Re-enforcement ftruck
Coriolus, like a Planet. Nor all's this;
For by and by the Din of War 'gan pierce
His ready Senfe, when ftreight his doubled Spirit
Requickn'd what in Flesh was fatigate,

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And