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Men. Down with that sword;-Tribunes, with

draw a-while.

Bru. Lay hands upon him. Men. Help! help Marcius! help, You that be noble; help him, young, and old! Cit. Down with him, down with him!

[In this mutiny, the Tribunes, the Ediles, and the people, are beat in.

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

2 Sen.

Get you gone.

Cor.
We have as many friends as enemies.
Men. Shall it be put to that?
1 Sen.
The gods forbid!
I pr'ythee, noble friend, home to thy house;
Leave us to cure this cause.

Stand fast;

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.

Cor.

I could beat forty of them.

Men.

Be gone;

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

On fair ground,

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 us'd to bear.

Men. Pray you, be 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 hoble for the world: He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,

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

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gone:

What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent;
And, being angry, does forget that ever
He heard the name of death.

[A noise within.

Here's goodly work!

2 Pat.

I would they were a-bed! Men. I would they were in Tiber!-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?

Men.

You worthy tribunes,— Sic. He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock

With rigorous hands; he hath resisted law,
And therefore law shall scorn him further trial
Than the severity of the publick power,
Which he so sets at nought.

1 Cit.
He shall well know,
The noble tribunes are the people's mouths,
And we their hands.

Cit.

He shall, sure on't.

[Several speak together. Sir,

Men.

Sic.

Men. Do not cry, havock, where you

hunt

With modest warrant.
Sic.
Have holp to make this rescue?

Men.
As I do know the consul's worthiness,
So can I name his faults:-

Sic.

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Peace.

should but

Sir, how comes't, that you

Hear me speak:

Consul! what consul?

Men. The consul Coriolanus.

Bru.

Cit. No, no, no, no, no.

Men. If, by the tribunes' leave, and yours, good

He a consul!

people,

I may be heard, I'd crave a word or two;

The which shall turn you to no further harm,
Than so much loss of time.

Sic.
Speak briefly then;
For we are peremptory, to despatch
This viperous traitor: to eject him hence,

Were but one danger; and, to keep him here,

Our certain death; therefore, it is decreed,

He dies to-night.

Men.
Now the good gods forbid,
That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude
Towards her deserved children is enroll'd
In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam
Should now eat up her own!

Sic. He's a disease, that must be cut away.
Men. O, he's a limb, that has but a disease;
Mortal, to cut it off; to cure it, easy.
What has he done to Rome, that's worthy death?
Killing our enemies? The blood he hath lost,
(Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he hath,
By many an ounce,) he dropp'd it for his country:
And, what is left, to lose it by his country,
Were to us all, that do't, and suffer it,

A brand to the end o' the world.

Sic.

This is clean kam. Bru. Merely awry: When he did love his country,

It honour'd him.

Men.
The service of the foot
Being once gangren'd, is not then respected
For what before it was?

Bru.
We'll hear no more:-
Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence;
Lest his infection, being of catching nature,
Spread further.

Men.
One word more, one word.
This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find
The harm of unscann'd swiftness, will, too late,

Tie leaden pounds to his heels. Proceed by process;

Lest parties (as he is belov'd) break out,
And sack great Rome with Romans.

Bru.

Sic. What do

If it were so,

ye talk?

Have we not had a taste of his obedience?
Our ædiles smote? ourselves resisted?-Come:
Men. Consider this;-He has been bred i' the

wars

Since he could draw a sword, and is ill school'd
In boulted language; meal and bran together
He throws without distinction. Give me leave,
I'll go to him, and undertake to bring him
Where he shall answer, by a lawful form,
(In peace) to his utmost peril.

1 Sen.
Noble tribunes,
It is the humane way: the other course.
Will prove too bloody; and the end of it
Unknown to the beginning.

Sic.
Noble Menenius,
Be you then as the people's officer:-
Masters, lay down your weapons.

Bru.

Go not home. Sic. Meet on the market-place:-We'll attend you there:

Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed
In our first way.

Men.

Or what is worst will follow.

1 Sen.

I'll bring him to you:

Let me desire your company. [to the Senators.] He must come,

Pray you, let's to him. [Exeunt.

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