How the world goes; that to the
I may fpur on my journey.

I SOL. I fhall, fir.

pace

ACT II.

of it

[Exeunt.

SCENE I. Rome. A publick Place.

Enter MENENIUS, SICINIUS, and BRUTUS.

MEN. The augurer tells me, we shall have news to-night. BRU. Good, or bad?

MEN. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius.

SIC. Nature teaches beafts to know their friends.
MEN. Pray you, who does the wolf love?

SIC. The lamb.

MEN. Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius.

BRU. He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear.

MEN. He's a bear, indeed, that lives like a lamb. You

two are old men; tell me one thing that I shall ask you. BOTH TRIB. Well, fir.

MEN. In what enormity is Marcius poor, that

have not in abundance?

you two

BRU. He's poor in no one fault, but ftor'd with all.
SIC. Especially, in pride.

BRU. And topping all others in boasting.

MEN. This is ftrange now: Do you two know how you are cenfured here in the city, I mean of us o' the righthand file? Do you ?

BOTH TRIB. Why, how are we censured ?

MEN. Because you talk of pride now,-Will you not be angry?

BOTH TRIB. Well, well, fir, well.

MEN. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occafion will rob you of a great deal of patience : give your difpofition the reins, and be angry at your pleasures; at the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you, in being fo. You blame Marcius for being proud?

BRU. We do it not alone, fir.

MEN. I know, you can do very little alone; for your helps are many; or else your actions would grow wondrous fingle: your abilities are too infant-like, for doing much alone. You talk of pride: O, that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior furvey of your good felves! O, that you could! BRU. What then, fir?

MEN. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates, (alias, fools,) as any in Rome.

Src. Menenius, you are known well enough too.

MEN. I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in't; faid to be fomething imperfect, in favouring the first complaint; hafty, and tinder-like, upon too trivial motion: one that converfes more with the buttock of the night, than with the forehead of the morning. What I think, I utter; and spend my malice in my breath: Meeting two fuch weals-men as you are, (I cannot call you Lycurgufes) if the drink you give me, touch my palate adverfely, I make a crooked face at it. I cannot fay, your worships have deliver'd the matter well, when I find the afs in compound with the major part of your fyllables: and though I must be content to bear with those that say you are reverend grave men ; yet they lie deadly, that tell, you have good faces. If you fee this in the map of my microcofm, follows it, that I am known

well enough too? What harm can your biffon confpectuities glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too?

BRU. Come, fir, come, we know you well enough. MEN. You know neither me, yourselves, nor any thing. You are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs; you wear out a good wholesome forenoon, in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and foffet-feller; and then rejourn the controverfy of three-pence to a fecond day of audience. When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you chance to be pinch'd with the cholick, you make faces like mummers; fet up up the bloody flag against all patience; and, in roaring for a chamberpot, dismiss the controverfy bleeding, the more entangled by your hearing: all the peace you make in their cause, is, calling both the parties knaves: You are a pair of ftrange ones.

BRU. Come, come you are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table, than a neceffary bencher in the Capitol.

MEN. Our very priests must become mockers, if they fhall encounter fuch ridiculous fubjects as you are. When you fpeak beft unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging of your beards; and your beards deferve not fo honourable a grave, as to ftuff a botchers cushion, or to be entomb'd in an afs's pack-faddle. Yet you must be faying, Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predeceffors, fince Deucalion; though, peradventure, fome of the best of them were hereditary hangmen. Good e'en to your worships; more of your converfation would infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians: I will be bold to take my leave [BRUTUS and SICINIUS retire.

of you.

Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and VALERIA, &c.

How now, my as fair as noble ladies, (and the moon, were fhe earthly, no nobler,) whither do

fo faft?

you follow your eyes

VOL. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for the love of Juno, let's go.

MEN. Ha! Marcius coming home?

VOL. Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most profperous approbation.

MEN. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee:_Hoo! Marcius coming home!

Two LADIES. Nay, 'tis true.

VOL. Look, here's a letter from him; the state hath another, his wife another; and, I think, there's one at home for you.

MEN. I will make my very house reel to night :—A letter for me?

VIR. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I faw it. MEN. A letter for me? It gives me an eftate of feven years' health; in which time, I will make a lip at the physician: the most sovereign prefcription in Galen is but empiricutick, and, to this prefervative, of no better report than a horfe-drench. Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded.

VIR. O, no, no, no.

VOL. O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't.

MEN. So do I too, if it be not too much :-Brings 'a victory in his pocket?-The wounds become him.

VOL. On's brows, Menenius: he comes the third time home with the oaken garland.

MEN. Has he difciplined Aufidius foundly?

VOL. Titus Lartius writes,-they fought together, but Aufidius got off.

MEN. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that: an he had ftaid by him, I would not have been fo fidius'd for all the chefts in Corioli, and the gold that's in them. Is the fenate poffefs'd of this?

VOL. Good ladies, let's go :-Yes, yes, yes: the fenate has letters from the general, wherein he gives my fon the whole name of the war: he hath in this action outdone his former deeds doubly.

VAL. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him. MEN. Wondrous? ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing.

VIR. The gods grant them true!

VOL. True? pow, wow.

MEN. True? I'll be fworn they are true:-Where is he wounded?-God fave your good worships! [To the Tribunes.] Marcius is coming home: he has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded?

VOL. I' the fhoulder, and i' the left arm: There will be large cicatrices to fhow the people, when he shall stand for his place. He received in the repulse of Tarquin, seven hurts 'i the body.

MEN. One in the neck, and two in the thigh,—there's nine that I know.

VOL. He had, before this laft expedition, twenty-five wounds upon him.

MEN. Now it's twenty-feven: every gash was an enemy's grave: [Afhout, and flourish.] Hark, the trumpets. VOL. These are the ushers of Marcius: before him He carries noife, and behind him he leaves tears; Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie; Which being advanc'd, declines; and then men die. A Sennet. Trumpets found. Enter CoMINIUS and TITUS LARTIUS; between them, CORIOLANUS, crown'd with