Sivut kuvina

He has betray'd your Business, and given up,
For certain drops of Salt, your City Rome,
I say your City, to his Wife and Mother,
Breaking his Oath and Resolution like
A twist of rotten Silk, never admitting
Counsel o'ch' War; but at his Nurse's Tears
He whir'd and roar'd away your Vi&ory,
That Pages blush'd at him, and Men of Heart
Look'd wondring each at other.
Cor. Hear'st thou, Mars?

Auf. Name not the God, thou Boy of Tears."
Cor. Ha !
Auf. No more.

Cor. Measureless Liar, thou hast made my Hea
Too great for what contains it. Boy! O Slave !--.
Pardon me, Lords, 'tis the first time that ever
I was forc'd to scold. Your Judgments, my grave Lords,
Must give this Cur the Lie; and his own Notion,
Who wears my stripes imprest upon him, that
Mult bear my beating to his Grave, fhall join
To thrust the Lie unto him.

i Lord. Peace both, and hear me speak.

Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volscies, Men and Lads,
Srain all your edges in me. Boy ! false Hound !
If you have writ your Annals true, 'tis there,
That like an Eagle in a Dove coat, I
Flutter'd your Volscies in Coriolus.
Alone I did it. Boy -

Auf. Why, Noble Lords,
Will you be put in mind of his blind Fortune,
Which was your Shame, by this unholy Braggart,
'Fore your own Eyes and Ears?

All Con. Let him dye for't.

All People. Tear him to pieces, do it presently: He kill'd my Son, my Daughter, he killed my

Marcus, he kill'd my Father.
2 Lord. Peace, ho no outrage-

The Man is noble, and his Fame folds in
This Orb o'th' Earth; his last Offences to us
Shili have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius,
And trouble not the Peace.


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Cor. that I had him, with six Aufidiusses, or more ; His Tribe; to use my lawful Sword

Auf. Insolent Villain.
All Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.

[The Conspirators all draw, and kill Martius, who

falls, and Aufidius Stands on him.
Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold.
Auf. My Noble Lords, bear me speak.
I Lord. O, Tullus-

2 Lord. Thou hast done a deed, whereat Valour will weep.

3 Lord. Tread not upon him----Masters all, be quiet, Put up your Swords.

Auf. My Lords,
When you shall know (as in this Rage
Provok'd by him, you cannot) the great danger
Which this Man's Life did owe you, you'll rejoice
That he is thus cut off. Please it your Honours
To call me to your Senate, I'll deliver
My self your Loyal Servant, or endure
Your heaviest Centure.

i Lord. Bear from hence his Body,
And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded
As the most Noble Coarse, that ever Herald
Did follow to his Urn.

2 Lord. His own impatience
Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame :
Let's make the best of it.

Auf. My Rage is gone,
And I am Itruck with Sorrow: Take him
Help three o'th' chiefest Soldiers ; I'll be one.
Beat thou the Drum that it speak mournfully :
Trail your steel Pikes. Though in this City he
Hach widowed and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail che Injury,
Yet he shall have a Noble memory. Alli

(Exeunt, bearing the Body of Martius. A depa*M1arch founded.


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