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The horn and noise o'the monsters, wants not spirit
To say, he'll turn your current in a ditch,
And make your channel his? If he have power,
Then vail your ignorance: if none, awake
Your dangerous lenity. If you are learned,
Be not as common fools; if you are not,
Let them have cushions by you. You are plebeians,
If they be senators: and they are no less,
When both your voices blended, the greatest taste
Most palates theirs." They choose their magistrate;
And such a one as he, who puts his shall,
His popular shall, against a graver bench
Than ever frown'd in Greece! By Jove himself,
It makes the consuls base: and my soul akes,
To know, when two authorities are up,
Neither supreme, how soon confusion
May enter 'twixt the gap of both, and take
The one by the other.

Com.

Well-on to the market-place. Cor. Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth The corn o'the store-house gratis, as 'twas us'd Sometime in Greece,

Men.

Well, well, no more of that.

Cor. (Though there the people had more absolute

power,)

I say, they nourish'd disobedience, fed

The ruin of the state.

Bru.

Why, shall the people give

One, that speaks thus, their voice?

6 Then vail your ignorance:] If this man has power, let the ignorance that gave it him vail or bow down before him.

7 You are plebeians,

If they be senators: and they are no less,

When, both your voices blended, the greatest taste

Most palates theirs.] Perhaps the meaning is, the plebeians are no less than senators, when, the voices of the senate and the people being blended together, the predominant taste of the compound smacks more of the populace than the senate.

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Bru. The Ediles, ho!-Let him be apprehended. Sic. Go, call the people; [Exit BRUTUS.] in whose name, myself

Attach thee, as a traitorous innovator,

A foe to the publick weal: Obey, I charge thee,
And follow to thine answer.

Cor.

Hence, old goat!

Sen. & Pat. We'll surety him,

Com.

Aged sir, hands off.

Cor. Hence, rotten thing, or I shall shake thy

bones

Out of thy garments.

Sic.

Help, ye citizens.

Re-enter BRUTUS, with the Ediles, and a Rabble of

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[Several speak.

Cit. Down with him, down with him!

2 Sen.

Weapons, weapons, weapons! [They all bustle about CORIOLANUS.

Tribunes, patricians, citizens!-what ho!-
Sicinius, Brutus, Coriolanus, citizens!

Cit. Peace, peace, peace; stay, hold, peace! Men. What is about to be?-I am out of breath; Confusion's near: I cannot speak:-You, tribunes To the people,-Coriolanus, patience:

Speak, good Sicinius.

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Sic.

Hear me, people;-Peace. Cit. Let's hear our tribune:-Peace. Speak,

speak, speak.

Sic. You are at point to lose your liberties:

Marcius would have all from you; Marcius,

Whom late you have nam'd for consul.

Men.
Fye, fye, fye!
This is the way to kindle, not to quench.

1 Sen. To unbuild the city, and to lay all flat.
Sic. What is the city, but the people?
Cit.

The people are the city.

True,

Bru. By the consent of all, we were establish'd The people's magistrates.

Cit.

You so remain,

Men. And so are like to do.

Cor. That is the way to lay the city flat;
To bring the roof to the foundation;
And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges,
In heaps and piles of ruin.

Sic.

This deserves death. Bru. Or let us stand to our authority, Or let us lose it:-We do here pronounce, Upon the part o'the people, in whose power We were elected theirs, Marcius is worthy Of present death.

Sic.

Therefore, lay hold of him; Bear him to the rock Tarpeian, and from thence Into destruction cast him.

Bru.

Ædiles, seize him.

Hear me one word.

Cit. Yield, Marcius, yield.

Men.

Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word.

Edi. Peace, peace.

Men. Be that you seem, truly your country's

friend,

And temperately proceed to what you would

Thus violently redress.

Bru.

Sir, those cold ways,

That seem like prudent helps, are very poisonous Where the disease is violent:-Lay hands upon him, And bear him to the rock.

Cor.

No; I'll die here. [Drawing his Sword. There's some among you have beheld me fighting; Come, try upon yourselves what you have seen me. Men. Down with that sword;-Tribunes, withdraw a while.

Bru. Lay hands upon him.

Help, Marcius! help,

Men.
You that be noble; help him, young, and old!
Cit. Down with him, down with him!

[In this Mutiny, the Tribunes, the Ædiles,
and the People, are all beat in.

Men. Go, get you to your house; be gone, away, All will be naught else.

2 Sen.

Cor.

We have as many friends as enemies.

Get you gone.

Stand fast;

The gods forbid!

Men. Shall it be put to that?

1 Sen.

I pr'ythee, noble friend, home to thy house;
Leave us to cure this cause.

Men.
For 'tis a sore upon us,
You cannot tent yourself: Begone, 'beseech you.
Com. Come, sir, along with us.

Cor. I would they were barbarians, (as they are, Though in Rome litter'd,) not Romans, (as they

are not,

Though calv'd i' the porch o'the Capitol,)—

Men.
Put not your worthy rage into your tongue;
One time will owe another.*

Cor.

I could beat forty of them.

Be gone;

On fair ground,

One time will owe another.] The meaning seems to be, One time will compensate for another. Our time of triumph will come hereafter: time will be in our debt, will owe us a good turn, for our present disgrace. Let us trust to futurity.

Men.

I could myself

Take up a brace of the best of them; yea, the two

tribunes.

Com. But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetick;
And manhood is call'd foolery, when it stands
Against a falling fabrick.-Will
you hence,
Before the tag return?" whose rage doth rend
Like interrupted waters, and o'erbear

What they are used to bear.

Men.

Pray you, be

gone:

I'll try whether my old wit be in request
With those that have but little; this must be patch'd
With cloth of any colour.

Com.

Nay, come away.

[Exeunt CORIOLANUS, COMINIUS, and Others. 1 Pat. This man has marr'd his fortune. Men. His nature is too noble for the world:

He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,

Or Jove for his power to thunder. His heart's his

mouth:

What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent; And, being angry, does forget that ever

He heard the name of death.

Here's goodly work!

2 Pat.

[A Noise within.

I would they were a-bed!

Men. I would they were in Tyber!-What, the

vengeance,

Could he not speak them fair.

Re-enter BRUTUS and SICINIUS, with the Rabble.

Sic.

Where is this viper,

That would depopulate the city, and

Be

every man himself?

" Before the tag return?] The lowest and most despicable of the populace are still denominated by those a little above them, Tag, rag, and bobtail.

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