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Breaking his oath and resolution like
A twist of rotten folk, never admitting
Counsel o'th' war; but at his nurse's tears
He whin'd and roar'd away your victory,
That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart
Look'd wondring each at other.
Cor. Hear'ft thou, Mars, ?
Auf. Name not the God, thou boy, of tears.
Auf. No more.
Cor. Measureless liar, thou haft made my heart
Too great for what contains it. Boy? O. Nave !
Pardon me, Lords, 'tis the first time I ever
Was forc'd to scold. Your judgments, my grave Lords,
Must give this cur the lie; and bis own notion,
Who wears my stripes impreft upon him, that
Muft bear my beating to his grave, shall join
To thrust the lie unto him.
i Lord. Peace both, and hear me speak. :
Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volfcians, men and lads,
Stain all your edges in me. Boy ? false hound !
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
That like an eagle in a dove-coat, I
Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli.
Alone I did it. Boy ?
Auf. Why, noble Lords,
Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune,
Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart,
'Fore your own eyes and ears ?
All Con. Let him die for’t.
All Cit. Tear him to pieces, do it presently.
1 Cit. He kill'd my son.
2 Cit. My daughter.
3 Cit. Kill'd my cousin.
4. Cii. He kill'd my father.
2 Lord. Peace no outrage. peace
The man is noble, and his fame folds in
This orb o'th' earth; his last offences to us
Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius,
And trouble not the peace.
Cor. O that I had him,
With fix Aufidius's, or more ; his tribe ;
To use my lawful sword-
Auf. Infolent villain !
Al Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.
[The Conspirators all draw, and kill Martius, wbo falls,
and Aufidius ftands on bim. Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold. Auf. My noble Lords, hear me speak, i Lord. 0, Tullus
2 Lord. Thou haft done a deed, whereat Valour will weep.
3 Lord. Tread not upon him masters all, be quiet, Put up your swords.
Auf. My Lords, when I shall shew (as in this rage
Provok'd by him, I 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 Senate, I'll deliver
My self your loyal servant, or endure
Your heaviest censure.
i Lord. Bear from hence his body, .
And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded
As the most noble coarse, 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 struck with sorrow : take him up :
Help three o'ch' chiefeft soldiers ; I'll be one.
Beat thou the drum that it speak mournfully :
Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he
Hith widowed and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail the injury ;
Yet he shall have a noble memory.
(Exeunt, bearing the body of Martius. A dead marco
OCTAVIUS CÆSAR, Triumuirs after the deatb of
Confpirators against Julius Cæfar.
POPILIUS LENA,} Senators. -
Flavius, Tribunes, and Enemies to Cæsar.
MESSALA, } Friends to Brutus and Caffius.
ARTEMIDORUS, A Sopbift of Cnidos,
CINNA, the Poet.
Servants to Brutus.
PINDARUS, Servant to Caffius.
CALPHURNIA, Wife to Cæsar.
PORTIA, Wife to Brutus.
Plebeians, Guards and Attendants.
SCENE for the tbree forft Afts in Rome, for the begin.
ning of the fourth as an Island near Bononia, for tbe re-
mainder of tbe fourtb near Sardis, for ibe fifth in the
Fields of Philippi.
ACT I. SCENE I.
A Street in Rome.
Enter Flavius, Marullus, and certain Plebeians.
Flav. ENCE ; home, you idle creatures, get you
Is this a holiday? what, know you not,
Being mechanical, you ought not walk
Upon a labouring day, without the fign
Of your profession ? speak, what trade art thou?
i Pleb. Why, Sir, a carpenter,
Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule?
What doft thou with thy best apparel on?
You, Sir, what trade are you?
2 Pleb. Truly, Sir, in respect of a fine workman I am but as you would say, a cobler. Mar. But what trade art thou ? answer me directly.
2 Pleb. A trade, Sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience, which is indeed, Sir, a mender of bad foals.
Flav. What trade, thou knaye ? thou naughty knave, what trade?
2 Pleb. Nay, I beseech you, Sir, be not out with me ; yet if you be out, Sir, I can mend you.
Flav. What mean'st thou by that? mend me, thou fawcy fellow?
2 Pleb. Why, Sir, cobble you.
Flav. Thou art a cobler, art thou ?
2 Pleb. Truly, Sir, all that I live by, is the awl : !