Sic. Go, Mafters, get you Home, be no difmaid.
Thefe are a Side, that wou'd be glad to have
This true, which they fo feem to fear, Go Home
And fhew no fign of Fear
1 Cit. The Gods be good to us: Come, Mafters, let's Home. I ever faid we were i'th' wrong, when we banish'd
2 Cit. So did we alls but come, let's Home. Bru. I do. not like this News.
Bru. Let's to the Capitol; would half my Wealth Would buy this for a Lie
SCENE V. A Camp.
Enter Aufidius with his Lieutenant.
Auf. Do they ftill flie to th' Roman?
Lien. I do not know what Witchcraft's in him; but
Your Soldiers ufe him as the Grace 'fore Meat,
Their talk at Table, and their thanks at end;
And you are darken'd in this Action, Sir,
Even by your own.
Auf. I cannot help it now,
Unlels, by using means, I lame the Foot
Of our Defign. He bears himself more proudly
Even to my Perfon, that I thought he would
When firft I did embrace him. Yet his Nature
In that's no Changeling, and I must excufe
What cannot be amended.
Lieu. Yet I wish, Sir,
(I mean for your particular) you had not
Join'd in Commiffion with him; but either have born
The action of your felf, or else to him had left it folely.
Auf. I understand thee well, and be thou fure,
When he fhall come to his account, he knows not
What I can urge against him, although it feems
And fo he thinks, and is no lefs apparent
To th' vulgar Eye, that he bears all things fairly,
And fhews good Husbandry for the Volfcian State,
Fights Dragon-like, and does atchieve as foon
As draw his Sword: Yet he hath left undone
That which fhall break his Neck, or hazard mine,
When e'er we come to our Account.
Lien. 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 rafh in the repeal, as hafty
To expel him thence. I think he'll be to Rome,
As is the Afpray 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 defect of Judgment,
To fail in the difpofing of thofe 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 fame aufterity and garb,
As he controll'd the War. But one of thefe,
(As he hath fpices of them all) not all,
For I dare fo far free him, made him fear'd,
So hated, and fo 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 felf moft commendable,
Hath not a Tomb fo 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.
Enter Menenius, Cominius, Sicinius, Brutus, with others.
Men. TO, I'll not go: You hear what he hath faid
Which was fometime his General; who lov'd him
In a moft dear particular. He call'd me Father:
But what o'that? Go you that banish'd him,
A mile before his Tent, fall down and kneel
The way into his Mercy: Nay, if he coy'd
To hear Cominius fpeak, I'll keep at home.
Com. He would not feem to know me.
Men. Do you hear?
Com. Yet one time he did call me by my Name:
I urg'd our old acquaintance, and the drops
That we have bled together. Coriolanus,
He would not anfwer to; forbad all Names,
He was a kind of Nothing, Titlelefs,
'Till he had forg'd himself a Name o'th' Fire
Of burning Rome.
Men. Why, fo; you have made good work:
A pair of Tribunes, that have wrack'd for Rome,
To make Coals cheap: A noble Memory.
Com. I minded him, how Royal 'twas to pardon
When it was less expected. He reply'd,
It was a bare Petition of a State
To one whom they had punish'd.
Men. Very well, could he fay lefs?
Com. I offer'd to awaken his regard
For's private Friends. His answer to me was,
He could not stay to pick them, in a pile
Of noifom mufty Chaff. He faid, 'twas folly,
For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt
And ftill to nofe the Offence.
Men. For one poor grain or two?
I am one of those: his Mother, Wife, his Child,
And this brave Fellow too: we are the Grains,
You are the mufty Chaff, and you are smelt
Above the Moon. We must be burnt for you.
Sic. Nay, pray be patient: If you refufe your aid
In this fo never-needed help, yet do not
Upbraid us with our Diftrefs. But fure if you
Would be your Country's Pleader, your good Tongue,
More than the inftant Army we can make,
Might ftop our Country-man.
Men. No: I'll not meddle.
Sic. Pray you go to him.
Men. What fhould I do?
Bru. Only make trial what your Love can do
For Rome, towards Martius.
Men. Well, and fay that Martius return me,
As Cominius return'd, unheard: what then?
But as a difcontented Friend, grief-shot
With his unkindness. Say't be fo?
Muft have that thanks from Rome, after the measure
As you intended well.
I think he'll hear me. Yet to bite his lip,
And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me.
He was not taken well, he had not din'd.
The Veins unfill'd, our Blood is cold, and then
We powt upon the Morning, are unapt
To give or to forgive; but when we have ftuff'd
These Pipes, and thefe Conveyances of our Blood
With Wine and feeding, we have fuppler Souls
Than in our Prieft-like Fafts: therefore I'll watch him
'Till he be dieted to my request,
And then I'll fet upon him.
Bru. You know the very Rode into his Kindness,
And cannot lofe your way.
Men. Good faith, I'll prove him,
Speed how it will. I fhall e'er long have knowledge
Of my fuccefs.
Com. He'll never hear him.
Com. I tell you, he does fit in Gold, his Eye
Red as 'twould burn Rome; and his Injury
The Goaler to his Pity. I kneel'd before him,
'Twas very faintly he faid, Rife: difmifs'd me
Thus with his fpeechlefs hand. What he would do
He fent in Writing after me; what he would not,
Bound with an Oath to yield to his Conditions:
So that all hope is vain, unless his noble Mother,
And his Wife (who as I hear) mean to follicit him
For Mercy to his Country: therefore let's hence,
And with our fair Intreaties hafte them on.
Men. You guard like Men, 'tis well. But by your leave I am an Officer of State, and come to fpeak with Coriolanus. 'I Watch. From whence? Men. From Rome.
1. Wat. You may not pafs, you must return: our General wilt no more hear from thence.
2 Wat. You'll fee your Rome embrac'd with Fire, before You'll speak with Coriolanus.
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 Wat. Be it fo, go back: the virtue of your Name
Is not here paffable.
Men. I tell thee, Fellow,
Thy General is my Lover: I have been
The Book of his good Acts, whence Men have read
His Fame unparallell'd, happily amplified :
For I have ever verified my Friends,
(Of whom he's Chief) with all the fize that verity
Would without lapfing fuffer: Nay, fometimes,
Like to a Bowl upon a fubtil ground
I have tumbled paft the throw; and in his praise
Have, almoft, ftamp'd the Leafing. Therefore, Fellow,
I must have leave to país.
I Wat. Faith, Sir, if you had told as many lies in his behalf, as you have utter'd words in your own, you should not pafs here: no, though it were as virtuous to lie, as to live chaftly. Therefore go back.
Men. Prithee, Fellow, remember my Name is Menenius, always Factionary on the party of your General. Gg 2
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