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That which shall break his Neck, or hazard mine,
Licu. Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry Rome?
Auf. All places yield to him e'er he fits down, And the Nobility of Rome are his: The Senators and Patricians love him too : The Tribunes are no Soldiers; and their People Will be as rash in the repeal, as hasty To expel him thence. I think he'll be to Rome, As is the Aspray to the Fish, who takes it By Soveraignty of Nature. First, he was A noble Servant to them, but he could not Carry his Honours even; whether 'twas Pride, Which out of daily Fortune ever taints The happy Man; whether defe& of Judgment, To fail in the disposing of those Chances Which he was Lord of; or whether Nature, Not to be other than one thing, not moving. From th' Cask to th’ Cushion, but commanding Peace Even with the same austerity and garb, As he controlld the War. But one of these, (As he hath spices of them all) not all, For I dare so far free him, made him fear'd, So hated, and so banish'd; but he has a Merit To choak it in the utt'rance : So our Virtues, Lye in th' interpretation of the time, And Power, unto it self most commendable, Hath not a Tomb so evident as a Chair T'extol what it hath done. One Fire drives out one Fire; one Nail, one Nail; Rights by Rights fouler, Strengths by Strengths do fail. Come let's away ; when, Caius, Rome is thine, Thou art poor'st of all, then shortly art thou mine.
A CT V. SCENE I.
Enter Menenius, Cominius, Sicinius, Brutus, with others. Men. I'll not go: You hear what he hath said
Which was sometime his General; who lov'd him
Com. He would not seem to know me.
Com. Yet one time he did call me' by my Name:
Men. Why, so; you have made good work:
Com. I minded him, how Royal 'twas to pardon
Men. Very well, could he say less?
Com. I offer'd to awaken his regard
Men. For one poor grain or two ?
Sic. Nay, pray be patient : If you refuse your aid
Men. No: I'll not meddle.
Bru. Only make trial what your Love can do
Men. Well, and say that Martius return me,
Sic. Yet your good will
you intended well.
Bru. You know the very Rode into his Kindness,
Men. Good faith, I'll prove him,
[Exi!. Com. He'll never hear him. Sic. Not ?
Com. I tell you, he does fic in Gold, his Eye
A Camp .
He sent in Writing after me ; what he would not,
Enter Menenius to the Watch or Guard,
Men. You guard like Men, 'tis well. But by your leave I am an Officer of State, and come to speak with Coriolanus, 'I Watch. From whence? Men, From Rome,
1. Wat. You may not pass, you must return : our General wilt no more hear from thence.
2 Wut. You'll see your Rome embrac'd with Fire, before You'll speak with Coriolanus,
Men. Good my Friends, If you
have heard your General talk of Rome, And of his Friends there, it is Lots to Blanks, My Name hath touch'd your Ears; it is Menenius.
i Wut. Be it fo, go back: the virtue of your Name is noe here passable.
Men. I tell thee, Fellow,
I War. Faith, Sir, if you had told as many lies in his behalf, as you have utter'd words in your own, you should not pass here : no, though it were as virtuous to lie, as to live chaftly. Therefore go back.
Men. Prithee, Fellow, remember my Name is Menenins, always Fađionary on the party of Gg 2
2 Wat. Howsoever you bave been his Liar, as you lay you have; I am one that telling true under him, must lay you cannot pals. Therefore
1 War. You are a Roman, are you?
I Wat. Then you should hate Rome, as he does. Can you, when you have puth'd out of your Gates the very Defender of them, and in a violent popular ignorance, given your Enemy your Shield, think to front his Revenges with the easie Groans of old Women, the Virginal Palms of your Daughters, or with the palfied intercession of such a decay'd Dotard, as you seem to be? Can you think to blow out the intendid Fire your City is ready to fame in, with such weak Breath as this? No, you are deceiv’d, therefore back to Rome, and prepare for your Execution : you are condemnd, our General has sworn you out of Reprieve and Pardon.
Men. Sirrah, if thy Captain knew I were here,
1 Wat. Come, my Captain knows you not.
1 Wat. My General cares not for you. Back, I say, go;
Enter Coriolanus with Aufidius.
Men. Now you Champion; I'll say an Errant for you; you shall know now that I am in Estimation ; you shall perceives that a Jack-gardant cannot Office me from my Son Coriolanus, guess but my Entertainment with him ; if thou stand'st not i'th' State of Hanging, or of fome Death more long in Spectatorship, and crueller in suffering, behold now presently, and (woon for what's to come upon thee. The glorious Gods fit in hourly Synod about thy particular prosperity, and love thee ro'worse than thy old Father Menenius does. O my Son, my Son! thou art preparing Fire for us ; look thee, here's Water to qnench it. I was hardly mov'd to come to thee; but being assured