Com. You are goodly things, you voices! You have made Men. Good work, you and your cry!'-Shall us to the Capitol? Com. O, ay; what else? [Exeunt Coм. and MEN. Sic. Go, inasters, get you home, be not dismay'd; These are a side, that would be glad to have This true, which they so seem to fear. Go home, 1 Cit. The gods be good to us! Come, masters, let's home. I ever said, we were i' th' wrong, when we banished him. 2 Cit. So did we all. But come, let's home. Bru. I do not like this news. Sic. Nor I. [Exeunt Citizens. Bru. Let's to the Capitol :-'Would, half my wealth Would buy this for a lie! Sic. Pray, let us go. [Exeunt. SCENE VII.—A camp; at a small distance from Rome. Enter AUFIDIUS, and his Lieutenant. Auf. Do they still fly to the Roman ? Lieu. I do not know what witchcraft's in him; but Your soldiers use him as the grace 'fore meat, Their talk at table, and their thanks at end; I cannot help it now; Auf. Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier3 1 cry, pack. 2 i. e. your own act. A double comparison, not unusual in our author. [COR. 94] When first I did embrace him: Yet his nature Lieu. Yet I wish, sir, Auf. I understand thee well; and be thou sure, To th' vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly, Lieu. Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry Auf. All places yield to him ere he sits down: The senators, and patricians, love him too : To expel him thence. I think, he'll be to Rome, A noble servant to them; but he could not 3 i. e. growing out of daily and uninterrupted fortune. [COR. 95] From th' casque' to th' cushion,' but commanding peace, Even with the same austerity and garb As he controll'd the war; but, one of these, Come, let's away. When, Caius, Rome is thine, ACT V. SCENE I.-Rome. A publick place. Enter MENENIUS, COMINIUS, SICINIUS, BRUTUS, and others. Men. No, I'll not go: you hear, what he hath said, Which was sometime his general; who lov'd him In a most 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 speak, I'll keep at home. Com. He would not seem to know me. Do you hear? Men. 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 Till he had forg'd himself a name i' th' fire Men. Why, so; you have made good work : A pair of tribunes that have rack'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 replied, It was a bare petition3 of a state To one whom they had punished. Men. Could he say less? Very well: Com. I offer'd to awaken his regard For his private friends: His answer to me was, 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 : Sic. Nay, pray, be patient: If you refuse your aid In this so never-heeded help, yet do not Upbraid us with our distress. But, sure, if you Would be your country's pleader, your good tongue, More than the instant army we can make, Might stop our countryman. Men. Sic. I pray you, go to him. No; I'll not meddle. 'The meaning seems to be, you have catered for the Roman people so as to get their houses burned over their heads to save them the expense of coals. A noble monument of your good husbandry! 3 A mere petition. [COR. 97] Ꮓ Men. What should I do? Well, and say that Marcius Bru. Only make trial what your love can do Men. But as a discontented friend, grief-shot Sic. As you intended well.' Men. I think, he'll hear me. I'll undertake it: Yet to bite his lip, And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me. To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd Than in our priest-like fasts: therefore I'll watch him And then I'll set upon him. Bru. You know the very road into his kindness, And cannot lose your way. Men. Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge Of my success. Com. Sic. Good faith, I'll prove him, [Exit. He'll never hear him. Not? Com. I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye So that all hope is vain, 1 Proportioned to the measure of your good intentions. [COR. 98] |