Stockdale's Edition of Shakespeare

Stand to me in this caufe.-O mother! wife!
Auf. I am glad, thou haft fet thy mercy and thy

honour

At difference in thee: out of that I'll work
Myfelf a former fortune 1.

[Afide.
[The Ladies make figus to Coriolanus.

Cor. Ay, by and by;
But we will drink together; and you fhall bear
[To Volumnia, Virgilia, &c.
A better witnefs back than words, which we,
On like conditions, will have counter-feal'd.
Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve
To have a temple built you: all the fwords
In Italy, and her confederate arms,
Could not have made this peace.

[Excunt.

Enter another Messenger.

Sic. What's the news?

Mef. Good news, good news;-The ladies have
prevail'd,

The Volces are diflodg'd, and Marcius gone
A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,
No, not the expulfion of the Tarquins.
Sic. Friend,

Art thou certain, this is true? is it most certain?
Mef. As certain, as I know the fun is fire:
Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it?
Ne'er through an arch fo hurry'd the blown tide,
As the recomforted through the gates. Why,
hark you;

[Trumpets, hautboys, drums beat, all together.
The trumpets, fackbuts, pfalteries, and fifes,
Tabors, and cymbals, and the fhouting Romans,
Make the fun dance. Hark you! [Afbout within.
Men. This is good news:

I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia

Men. See you yon coign o'the Capitol; yon Is worth of confuls, fenators, patricians,

corner-stone?

Sic. Why, what of that?

Men. If it be poffible for you to displace it with your little finger, there is fome hope the ladies of Rome, efpecially his mother, may prevail with him. But, I fay, there is no hope in 't; our throats are fentenc'd, and stay upon execution.

Sic. Is't poffible, that fo fhort a time can alter the condition of a man?

Men. There is difference between a grub, and a butterfly; yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown from man to dragon: he has wings; he's more than a creeping thing.

Sic. He lov'd his mother dearly.

Men. So did he me: and he no more remembers his mother now, than an eight year old horse 2. The tartnefs of his face fours ripe grapes. When he walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground 1hrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corflet with his eye; talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He fits in his state, as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done, is finish'd with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god, but eternity, and a heaven to throne in.

Sic. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly. Men. I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his mother fhall bring from him: There is no more mercy in him, than there is milk in a male tyger; and that shall our poor city find: and] all this is 'long of you.

Sic. The gods be good unto us!

Men. No, in fuch a cafe the gods will not be good unto us. When we banish'd him, we refpected not them: and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us.

Meffenger.

Enter a
Mef. Sir, if you'd fave your life, fly to your house:
The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune,
And hale him up and down; all swearing, if
The Roman ladies bring not comfort home,
They'll give him death by inches,

A city full; of tribunes, fuch as you,
A fea and land full: You have pray'd well to-day;
This morning, for ten thoufand of your throats
I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy!
[Sound fill, with the fhouts.
Sic. First, the gods blefs you for your tidings:
Accept my thankfulness.
[next,
Mef. Sir, we have all great caufe to give great

thanks.

Sic. They are near the city?

Mef. Almoft at point to enter.

Sic. We'll meet them, and help the joy, [Exeunt. Enter two Senators, with the Ladies, passing over the flage, &c. &c.

Sen. Behold our patronefs, the life of Rome :
Call all your tribes together, praise the gods,
And make triumphant fires; trew flowers before

them :

Unfhout the noife that banish'd Marcius,
Repeal him with the welcome of his mother :
Cry,-Welcome, ladies, welcome !-
All. Welcome, ladies, welcome!
[A flourish with drums and trumpets. Exeunt.
SCENE

A publick Place in Antium.

Enter Tullus Aufidius, with Attendants.
Auf. Go tell the lords of the city, I am here:
Deliver them this paper: having read it,
Bid them repair to the market-place; where I,
Even in theirs and in the commons' ears,
He I accufe,
Will vouch the truth of it.
The city ports by this hath enter'd, and
Intends to appear before the people, hoping
To purge himself with words: Dispatch.--Most

welcome !

Enter three or four Confpirators of Aufidius' faction.
I Con. How is it with our general ?
Auf. Even fo,

As with a man by his own alms impoison'd,

1 I will take advantage of this conceffion to reftore myself to my former credit and power. 2 Subintelligitur remembers his dam.

3 B

And,

And with his charity flain.

2 Con. Moft noble fir,

If you do hold the fame intent wherein
You wifh'd us parties, we'll deliver you
Of your great danger.

Af. Sir, I cannot tell;

We must proceed, as we do find the people.

3 Con. The people will remain uncertain, whilft| 'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either Makes the furvivor heir of all.

Auf. I know it ;

And my pretext to strike at him admits

A good construction. I rais'd him, and I pawn'd
Mine honour for his truth: Who being foheighten'd,
He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery,
Seducing fo my friends: and, to this end,
He bow'd his nature, never known before
But to be rough, unfwayable, and free.

3 Con. Sir, his ftoutness,

When he did ftand for conful, which he loft
By lack of ftooping,-

Auf. That I would have spoke of:
Being banish'd for 't, he came unto my hearth;
Prefented to my knife his throat: I took him;
Made him joint fervant with me; gave him way
In all his own defires; nay, let him choose,
Out of my files, his projects to accomplish,
My best and frecheft men; ferv'd his defignments
In mine own perfon; holp to reap the fame,
Which he did end all his; and took fome pride
To do myself this wrong: 'till, at the laft,
I feem'd his follower, not partner; and
He wagd me with his countenance, as if

For which my finews fhall be stretch'd upon him 2.
At a few drops of women's rheum, which are
As cheap as lies, he fold the bload and labour
Of our great action; Therefore shall he die,
And I'll renew me in his fall. But, bark!

[Drums and trumpets found, with great shouts
of the people.

1 Con. Your native town you enter'd like a poft, And had no welcomes home; but he returns, Splitting the air with noife.

2 Con. And patient fools,

Auf. Say no more;

Here come the lords.

Enter the Lords of the city.

Lords. You are most welcome home.
Auf. I have not deferv'd it.

But, worthy lords, have you with heed perus d
What I have written to you?

Lords. We have.

1 Lord. And grieve to hear it.

What fauits he made before the laft, I think,
Might have found eafy fines: but there to end,
Where he was to begin; and give away
The benefit of our levies, answering us
With our own charge 3; making a treaty, where
There was a yielding; This admits no excufe.
Auf. He approaches, you fhall hear him.
Enter Coriolanus, with drums and colours; the CoRS-
mons being with him.

Cor. Hail, lords! I am return'd your foldier;
No more infected with my country's love,
Than when I parted hence, but still fubfifting
Under your great command. You are to know,
That profperoufly I have attempted, and
With bloody pallage led your wars, even to
The gates of Rome. Our spoil, we have brought

home,

Doth more than counterpoife, a full third part,
The charges of the action. We have made peces
With no lefs honour to the Antiates,

Than fhame to the Romans: And we here deliver,
Subicrib'd by the confuls and patricians,
Together with the feal o' the fenate, what
We have compounded on.

Auf. Read it not, noble lords;

But tell the traitor, in the highest degree
He hath abus'd your powers.

Cor. Traitor!-How now?
Auf. Ay, traitor, Marcius.

Cor. Marcius!

Tthink

Auf. Ay, Marcius, Calus Marcius; Deft thou I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy ftol'n name Coriolanus in Coriol ?

You lords and heads of the state, perfidiously
He has betray'd your bufinefs, and given up,
For certain drops of falt, your city Rome
(I fay, your city) to his wife and mother:
Breaking his oath and refolution, like
A twift of rotten filk; never admitting
Counfel o' the war ; but at his nurfe's tears
He whin'd and roar'd away your victory;

Whofe children he hath flain, their bafe throats tear, That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart

1 The meaning, according to Dr. Johnfen, is, He preferibed to me with an air of authority, and gave me his countenance for my wages; thought me fufficiently rewarded with good looks.

2 Thas

is the point on which I will attack him with my utmoft abilities. 3 That is, rewarding us with

our own expences.

Pardon

Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever
I was forc'd to fcold. Your judgments, my grave
lords,

Muft give this cur the he and his own notion
(Who wears my ftripes impreft upon him; that
Muft bear my beating to his grave) fhall join
To thruft the lie unto him.

1 Lord. Peace, both, and hear me speak.
Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volces, men and lads,
Stain all your edges in me.-Boy! Falfe hound!
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
That, like an eagle on a dove-cote, I
Flutter'd your Volces in Corioli:
Alone I did it.-——Boy!

Auf. Why, noble lords,

Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your fhame, by this unholy braggart, 'Fore your own eyes and ears ?

All Con. Let him die for't.

All People. Tear him to pieces, do it prefently. [The croud speak promifcunally. He kill'd my fon,-My daughter,-He kill'd my coufin Marcus.

He kill'd my father.

2 Lord. Peace, ho;-no outrage ;--peace.The man is noble, and his fame folds in

This orb o' the earth: His laft offences to us Shall have judicious hearing.-Stand, Aufidius, And trouble not the peace.

Cor. O, that I had him,

With fix Aufidiufes, or more, his tribe,
To ufe my lawful fword!

Auf. Infolent villain !

All Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him. [Aufidius and the Confpirators draw, and kili

Ii. c. his fame overfpreads the world.

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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 fenate, I'll deliver
Myfelf your loyal fervant, or endure
Your heaviest cenfure.

I Lord. Bear from hence his body,
And mourn you for him : let him be regarded
As the most noble corfe, 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 ftruck with forrow.-Take him up:
Help, three o' the chiefeft foldiers; I'll be one.—
Beat thou the drum, that it fpeak mournfully:
Trail your fteel pikes.-Though in this city he
Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail the injury,
Yet he fhall have a noble memory 2.
Affift.

[Exeunt, bearing the body of Marcius. A dead march founded.

2 Memory, as before, for memorial.

PERSONS

JULIUS CESAR,
OCTAVIUS CESAR,

M. ANTONIUS,

M. EMIL. LEPIDUS

REPRESENTED.

Triumvirs after the Death

of Julius Cæfar.

CICERO, PUBLIUS, POPILIUS LENA, Senators.

FLAVIUS, and MARULLUS, Tribunes.
ARTEMIDORUS, a Sophift of Cnidos.
A Soothsayer.

CINNA, a Poet: Another Poet.

LUCILIUS, TITINIUS, MESSALA, Young CATO,
and VOLUMNIUS; Friends to Brutus and Caffius.
VARRO, CLITUS, CLAUDIUS, STRATO, LUCIUS,
DARDANIUS; Servants to Brutus.

Confpirators against Ju- PINDARUS, Servant to Caffius.]

lius Caefar.

CALPHURNIA, Wife to Cæfar.

PORTIA, Wife to Brutus.

CINNA,

Plebeians, Senators, Guards, Attendants, &c.

SCENE, for the three first Acts, at Rome: afterwards at an Island near Mutina; at Sardis; and near Philippi.

SCENE
ROME.

A Street.

ACT

Enter Flavius, Marullus, and certain Commoners. ENCE; home, you idle creatures, get you home:

Flav. HENC

Is this a holiday? What! know you not,
Being mechanical, you ought not walk,
Upon a labouring day, without the fign
Of your profeffion ?-Speak, what trade art thou?
Car. Why, fir, a carpenter.

Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule?
What doft thou with thy beft apparel on ?-
You, fir; what trade are you?

Cob. Truly, fir, in respect of a fine workman,
I am but, as you would fay, a cobler.

Mar. But what trade art thou? Answer me
directly.

Cob. A trade, fir, that, I hope, I may ufe with a fafe confcience; which is, indeed, fir, a mender of bad foals.

Flav. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty
knave, what trade?

Cob. Nay, I befeech you, fir, be not out with me. Yet, if you be out, fir, I can mend you.

Flay. Thou art a cobler, art thou?

Cob. Truly, fir, all that I live by is, with the awl: Imeddle with no trade,-man's matters, nor woman's matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, fir, a furgeon to old fhoes; when they are in great danger, recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neats-leather, have gone upon my handywork.

Flay. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why doft thou lead these men about the streets?

Cob. Truly, fir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, fir, we make holiday, to fee Cæfar, and to rejoice in his triumph.

Mar. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings
he home?

What tributaries follow him to Rome,
To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?
You blocks, you ftones, you worfe than fenfeless
things!

O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,
Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft
Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements,
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,
Your infants in your arms, and there have fat

Mar. What meaneft thou by that Mend me,The live-long day, with patient expectation,

thou faucy fellow ?

Cob. Why, fir, cobble you.

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Stockdale's Edition of Shakespeare: Including, in One Volume, the Whole of ...