 | The Ingratitude of a Common-Wealth : Or, the fall of Laius Martius Coriolanus |  |
ACT the Fourth.
SCENE The City of Corioles.Enter Coriolanus, Disguis'd in mean Habit.
Cor.
A goodly Citty this Corioles! Citty,
'Twas I that did Transform thy Joyful Wives,
To Mourning Widdows; many a Darling Heir
Of these fair Palaces, have I Cut off
38
Here is Aufidious Court, I'll enter in;
Perhaps he Kills me; then he does fair Justice;
But if he give me Scope, I'll do his Country Service.
[Exit.
The Inside of the Palace; Musick Plays; Servants pass hastily over the Stage.
1 Serv.
Wine, Wine, Wine! No Ears amongst us? I think our
Fellows are all Asleep.
2 Serv.
Cotus, Where's Cotus? my Master Calls for him, Cotus.
[Exit.
Re-enter Coriolanus.
Cor.
A sumptuous House! The Feast smells well; but I appear
not like a Guest.
1 Serv.
How now! What have we here? What wou'd you
have Friend? Whence come you? here's no place for you: Pray
find the way to the Door.
Cor.
I have deserv'd no better Entertainment
From this Corioles.
Enter the Second Servant.
2 Serv.
Whence come you Sir? What, has the Porter no Eyes
in his Head? to let such Companions in: pray get you out.
Cor.
Away.
2 Serv.
Away? get you away.
Cor.
Thou art Troublesome.
[Trips him up.
2 Serv.
Are you so brisk? Well, I'll have you order'd anon.
[Exit.
Enter Aufidius with Servants.
Auf.
Where is this Follow?
2 Serv.
Here my Lord, I had Cudgell'd him like a Dog, but
for disturbing the Lords within.
Auf.
Whence com'st Thou? what wou'dst have? thy Name,
Why speak'st thou not? thy Name I say?
Cor.
A Name unmusical to Volscian Ears,
And Tullus harsh to thine.
Auf.
Speak, Who thou art?
Thou hast a grim Appearance, and thy Face
Bears a Command in't; though they Tackle's Torn,
Thou shew'st a noble Vessel: speak thy Name.
Cor.
Prepare thy Brow to frown; know'st thou me yet?
Auf.
I know the not; speak.
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My name is Caius Martius, who have done
To all the Volsces; Thee particularly,
Most rueful Mischief; take, to Witness this,
My Sir-name Coriolanus: All my Dangers,
My painful Service, and expence of Blood,
Shed for my thankless Country, are requited
But with that Sir-name, only that remains;
The Peoples Envy has devour'd the Rest:
Who with insulting Breath, and infamous Shouts,
Have Chas't me from their Citty; now this extremity
Has brought me to thy Court; not out of hope,
(Mistake me not) to Save my Life; for if
I had fear'd Death; of all Men in the World,
I had avoided Thee: but in meer Rage,
To be Reveng'd of those my Banishers:
For I will Fight against ingrateful Rome, with all the Spleen
Of the remorsless Fiends: This I avow,
Believe me if thou wilt; if not; know Tullus,
I am of Life most weary, and present
My Throat to thee, and to thy antient Malice;
Which not to Cut, wou'd shew thee but a Fool;
Since I have ever born thee, feellest Hatred,
Drawn Tuns of Blood from thy dear Countrys Breast;
And cannot Live, but to thy Shame, unless
It be to do Thee Service.
Auf.
Oh Martius, Martius!
Each word thou hast spoke, has weeded from my Heart,
A Root of antient Envy: Oh! If Jupiter,
From yon curl'd Clouds, shou'd Thunder forth this Story,
I'd not believe him more, than Noble Martius.
Let me embrace that Body, against which,
My pointed Lance a hundred times has splinter'd:
Thus do I clasp the Anvile of my Sword,
And here Contest as hotly with thy Love,
As e're I did in Battle with thy Valour.
Cor.
Why this is somewhat.
Auf.
Son of Mars I tell thee,
We have a Pow'r on foot, and I had purpose,
Once more to Hew thy Target to thy Glove,
Or lose this Arm for't; Thou hast beat me out
40
Dreamt of Encounters 'twixt my self and thee;
We have been down together in my Sleep,
Unbuckling Helms, grasping each others Throats,
And walk'd half Dead with Nothing: Worthy Martius,
Had we no Quarrel else to Rome, but that
Thou thence art Banish't, me wou'd Muster All,
From Twelve to Seventy Years, and pouring War
Into the Bowels of thy ingrateful Citty,
Like a swoln Flood wast All: Come, Enter with me,
And take our wondring Senators by th'Hands,
Assembled here to take their Leaves of me,
Who stand prepar'd against your Teritories;
Though not for Rome it self.
Cor.
You bless me Gods.
Auf.
You here are Absolute; if you will have
The Leading of your own Revenges; take
The half of my Commission, and resolve
Whether to beat against the Gates of Rome,
Or first Afflict 'em in remoter Parts:
But come, let me present you to our Nobles,
That will confirm my words: A thousand Welcomes,
And more a Friend, than e're an Enemy:
Yet Martius that was Much.
[Exeunt.
1 Serv.
Here's a strange Alteration!
2 Serv.
By this Hand I thought to have Cudgell'd him, and yet
my mind gave me, his Cloaths bely'd him.
1 Serv.
What an Arm he has? Why, he turn'd me about between
a Finger and a Thumb, as a Man wou'd set up a Top.
2 Serv.
Nay, I knew by his Face there was something in him;
he had Sir, a kind of Face methought—I cannot tell how to
term it.
1 Serv.
He had so; such a looking, as it were—that, that
you call your—what 'de ye call't—well, wou'd I were Hang'd
but I thought there was more in him than I cou'd Think: He is,
simply, the rarest Man i'th' World.
Enter a Third Servant.
3 Serv.
O Lads! Slaves! Well, I wou'd not be a Roman of
all Nations, I had as live be a condemned Man.
1 Serv.
The Matter?
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Why, here's he that was wont to Thwack our General
—Caius Martius.
2 Serv.
How? Thwack our General.
3 Serv.
No, I do not directly say Thwack him, but he was
always enough for him.
1 Serv.
Come, we are Fellows and Friends, he was ever too
hard for him, I have heard him say so himself.
2 Serv.
He was too hard for him, indefinitely, the last Engagement;
he Scotcht and Notcht him like any Carbanado.
3 Serv.
Why, he's so made on yonder within, as if he was
Son and Heir to Mars; set at the upper end of the Table; no
Question askt him by any of our Senators, but they stand Bald
before him: My Lord himself makes a very Mistress of him. The
short of the Business is, Our General is cut i'th' Middle; but the
one Half of what he was Yesterday; for the other has half his
Commission by the Grant of the whole Table; which by the
way, has something sowr'd our Master's Countenance: The upshot
of all is, that this strange Guest has Sworn to stub the Gates
of Rome, and Mow All down before him.
1 Serv.
And he's as like to do't as any Man; for look you Sir,
he has as many Friends as Enemies; which Friends Sir, as it
were, durst not (look you Sir) shew themselves (as we say) his
Friends whilst he was in Derectitude.
2 Serv.
Derectitude, What's that?
1 Serv.
Why? that is (d'ye conceive me Sir) Directitude
but when they shall see his Crest up again, and the Man in Blood,
they will out of their Burroughs like Conies after Rain.
2 Serv.
But when goes this forward?
3 Serv.
Why to Morrow, to Day, this Minute, you shall hear
the Drum struck up this Afternoon; 'tis as it were, a part of their
Feast, and to be Executed before they wipe their Lips.
2 Serv.
Why then we shall have a stirring World agen.
3 Serv.
Right; I hate this mouldy Peace; 'tis good for nothing
but to rust Iron, and increase Taylors; 'tis a getter of more Bastard
Children, than War's a Destroyer of 'em.
2 Serv.
Away, here comes our General with a Frown in his
Forehead, and our Termegent Controller, Nigridius with him.
3 Serv.
He is ever the Harbinger to Mischief; his former Command
was under Caius Martius, who entrusted him with the Custody
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Revenge he never fails; yet he that Lives to see him Hang'd,
may Dye before the Year's out: And there's Prophecy without
Conjuring.
[Exeunt.
Enter Aufidius and Nigridius.
Nigr.
What Circe Sir, has wrought you to this Change:
By Hell I rather shou'd have thought to have seen,
Serpents with Doves embrac't, than this Agreement;
Call but to Mind your Mornings Wiser Thoughts:
Where is that fiery Resolution vanisht?
Have you, My Lord, forgot your Mornings Vow?
It seem'd the Voice of Fate.
Auf.
Nigridius, No,
The Accents still are fresh upon my Mind;
I Swore, and call'd the Elements to Witness,
If I, and Caius Martius met once more,
That teeming Hour, Corioles or Rome,
In him or me shou'd Perish.
Nigr.
Such a Sound,
And Utter'd, with so stern a Brow, shot Terror,
And to our View, Confest a flaming Mars;
But now (forgive me Sir) you seem reduc'd
To Less, than Man, the Shaddow of your self:
What Witchcraft drew your Mind to this Alliance
With him, whose only Genius of the World,
Had Pow'r to Vie with yours?
Auf.
He bears himself more Proudly,
Ev'n to my Person, than I thought he wou'd,
When late I did embrace him; but his Nature
In that's no Changeling, and I must excuse
What cannot be Amended.
Nigr.
Yet I wish
You had not took this joynt Commission with him;
But either born the Action all your self,
Or left it whole to him.
Auf.
I understand Thee—
But spare to Fret a Lyon in the Toil.
Nigr.
The Palsy Senate lay their Fears aside,
And rest on his Protection as a Gods:
Your Souldiers use him as their Grace 'fore Meat;
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What Estimation shall your Foes take for you,
When you are lost, and darkn'd to your own:
Heark in what Notes the very Rabble greet him.
[Shout here.
Auf.
Death! Hell! This Infamy enflames my Brest,
Makes Emulation higher boyl than ever;
I'll sink Corioles, but I'll yet break with him;
And wreck the State, rather than want a Quarrel.
[Exeunt.
Brutus at one Door, Menenius at the other.
Bru.
We stood to't in good time—here comes Menenius;
O! He is grown of late most Courteous: Hail Sir,
Your Coriolanus is not much Mist you see,
But with his Friends; the Common-wealth stands still,
And so wou'd do, were he more Angry at it.
Men.
Come, all is well, and might have been much better—
Bru.
Where is he, hear you?
Men.
Nay, I hear Nothing.
Bru.
He was a worthy Officer i'th' War;
But Insolent, Ambitious, and Affecting
A single Sway.
Men.
I think not so.
Enter Scicinius hastily, with the Rabble, crying, Gods Save our Noble Tribunes, &c.
Bru.
The Matter Brother: Whom bring you there?
Sic.
This Slave, whom I am sending to Correction,
Reports, The Volsces, with two several Pow'rs,
Are entred on the Roman Territories;
And wast with Sword and Fire, what lies before.
This he Reports, set on by envious Parties,
To Fright the Peoples Quiet.
1 Cit.
Ay, I'll be sworn he has set me in terrible Twittering,
My Heart beats still.
Men.
'Tis Fierce Aufidius,
Who hearing of our Martius Banishment,
Thrusts forth his Horns agen, that were shut in,
Whilst Martius stood for Rome.
Bru.
Go see the Villain Whipt.
Men.
First reason with him.
Sic.
Let him be Lasht before the Peoples Eyes.
1 Cit.
I, I, Whip him; such another Fright upon me, wou'd
44
Enter another Messenger.
Mes.
Hast, hast my Lords, you are sent for to the Senate,
A fearful Army led by Caius Martius,
Assisted by Aufidius, Spoyls our Territories,
Consumes with Arms and Fire, what lies before 'em.
1 Cit.
How! Caius Martius comming; All Dead Men, Dead!
dead! dead!
Men.
O you have made good work: What News my Lord?
Enter Senator.
Mes.
Cominius, on the Spur, is gone to meet,
And pacify the raging Martius.
Men.
'Twill be impossible.
Mes.
The Senate thinks so;
He Leads the Volsces like their God, a Being
Made by some other Deity than Nature,
That forms Man better.
Men.
You have made precious work;
You, and your Apron Men, that stood so much
Upon the Voice of Occupation, and
The Breath of Garlick eaters.
All Cit.
Ay, we shall be Occupy'd with a Vengeance.
Men.
He'll shake your Rome about your Ears,
As Hercules did shake down Mellow Fruit.
Both Trib.
But is this true Sir?
Sen.
You'l dissolve to Gelly,
Before you find it otherwise; the Citties
That were Ally'd to Rome, Revolt each Minute.
1 Cit.
Undone, undone, we are all undone, unless the Noble
Man have Mercy.
Sen.
And who shall ask it?
The Tribunes cannot do't for shame, and you
Deserve such pitty of him, as the Woolf
Do's from the Sheapherd: for his Friends, if they
Shou'd say, be good to Rome, he'll censure 'em
As Enemies to him.
Men.
True, were he putting to my House, the Brand
That shou'd Consume it; I cou'd not say Cease.
Your Curs here from the Citty Hooted him:
But Oh! I fear you'll Roar him in agen.
45
Sen.
Look, here comes the whole Kennel: You are they
That made the Air unwholsome, with
The casting up your greasy Caps, and Hooting
At Coriolanus Banishment: now he's comming
To pay you for your bellowing; 'tis no matter
If he cou'd Burn us All into one Coal;
We have deserv'd it.
All.
The Gods be gracious to Us, we hear fearful News.
1 Cit.
For my own part, when I said Banish him, I said 'twas
pitty.
2 Cit.
And so did I; and to say Truth, so did All of Us: Well,
we did, that we did, for the Best; and though we willingly consented
to his Banishment, yet it was against our Wills.
1 Cit.
I, I, I ever said we were in the Wrong.
All.
I, and so did we All.
Enter Cominius.
2 Cit.
Let me see what his Face says to us: Alack! alack, Dead,
dead, dead! All dead Men.
Sen.
Welcome my Lord, What Influence had your Intercession
With enrag'd Coriolanus.
Com.
Nothing: He wou'd not seem to know me.
Men.
Hear you that?
Com.
Yet once he call'd me by my Name;
I urg'd our old Acquaintance, and the Drops
That we have Bled together, but in vain: Coriolanus
He wou'd not answer to; forbad all Names;
He was a kind of Nothing; Titleless,
Till he had forg'd him a Name o'th' Fire,
In burning Rome.
All Cit.
Alack! alack! &c.
Com.
I minded him how Royal 'twas to Pardon,
When it was least Expected; he reply'd,
It was a forc't Submission of a State,
To one they had abus'd, and still wou'd do so.
Men.
Very well,
Com.
I try'd at last to Waken his Regard,
For his own private Friends; his answer was,
He cou'd not stay to cull 'em in a Pile
46
1 Cit.
How? Chaff? What, do's he make no more of us but
Chaff? And will he burn his Mother and Wife, rather than not
make Tinder of us? The Gods be gracious to us.
Bru.
Now good Menenius, if you Love your Country,
Or Pitty Her Distress, become Her Pleader;
Your pow'rful Tongue may be of force to stop him,
More than the instant Army we can Raise.
Men.
No, I'll not meddle.
Sic.
Pray go to him.
Men.
What shou'd I do?
Bru.
Only make tryal what your Love can work
For Rome, with Martius.
All Cit.
Kneeling]
Beseech you most Noble Menenius.
Men.
Well, I will under-take't, and think he'll hear me,
Though much discourag'd with Cominius Treatment;
Yet I will prove him with my ablest Speed.
1 Cit.
The Gods preserve you Sir, Commend my hearty Affections
to him; and if it stand with his good liking, we'll hang
up our Tribunes, and send him them for a Token.
Com.
He'll never hear him;
I tell you, he sits Thron'd in Gold, his Eye
All Red, as 'twou'd Burn Rome; his Injury
The Jayler to his Pitty; I kneel'd to him,
'Twas very faintly he said Rise; dismist me
Thus with his speechless Hand; what he resolv'd,
He sent in Writing after me, and that
Most Fatal. Therefore curse your Crime, and Perish.
[Exit.
1 Cit.
Some comfort yet, that we have these Vipers to Carbinado;
Come Neighbours, we'll see them smoak before us. Away, away
with 'em.
Exeunt. Haling and Dragging off the Tribunes.
Scene Opening, shews Coriolanus seated in State, in a rich Pavilion, his Guards and Souldiers with lighted Torches, as ready to set Fire on Rome; Petitioners as from the Citty offer him Papers, which he scornfully throws by: At length Menenius comes forward, and speaks to him: Aufidius with Nigridius, making Remarks on 'em.
Men.
Now may the Gods in hourly Councel sit,
47
As thy old Father Menenius do's:
O Son! my Son, What Fury sways thy Breast?
Thou art preparing Fire for us; look here,
Here's Water for the Flames:
Most hardly was I wrought to come to Thee;
But being assur'd none but my self cou'd move Thee;
I come, blown out from Rome with gales of Sighs.
Cor.
Away.
Men.
How?
Cor.
No words Friend: Mother, Wife, or Child, I know not;
I'm not my own, but servanted to others;
Mine was the Injury, but the Remission
Lies not with me, but in the Volsces Breast;
And Rome must stand to them for their Account.
That we were Friends, forgetfulness must blot,
E're lawless Pitty move: Therefore be gone,
My Ears against your Pray'rs are stronger, than
Your Gates against my Arms: Yet 'cause I Lov'd Thee,
Take this with thee; I Writ it for thy Sake,
And meant t'have sent it: Another word, Menenius,
I must not hear Thee speak: This Man, Aufidius,
Was my best Lov'd in Rome; yet thou beholdst—
Auf.
You bear a constant Temper.
Cor.
His Love to me,
Was much beyond the Kindness of a Father;
And I return'd him more than filial Duty;
Their latest Refuge was to send him to me.
Auf.
You are two Rigorous.
Nigr.
Fasten but that upon him, and you Gain
The Point we wish.
Cor.
Now plant our Fires against the Gates of Rome:
Bid all Trumpets Sound;
They shall have Musick to their flaming Citty.
As they Advance with their Lights, Enter from the other side, Volumnia, Virgilia, and Young Martius, with the rest of the Roman Ladies all in Mourning.
Cor.
Look there, my Mother, Wife, and little Darling,
Are come to Meet our Triumph on its way,
And be Spectators of our keen Revenge,
48
Virg.
My dearest Lord!
Vol.
My First-born only Son.
Cor.
Life of my Life, Fly to me? O a Kiss,
Long as my Exile, Sweet as my Revenge;
And thou my Turtle, Nest Thee in my Heart:
(To the Boy)
Forgive me Gods, that any dearest Transport,
Shou'd make my charm'd Sense, unsaluted, leave
The Noblest Mother—sink my Knee in Earth,
Of deepest Duty more Impression shew,
Than that of common Sons.
Nigr.
Observe you this?
Cor.
What means this Silence? What, these sable Weeds?
This Troop of Stars beset with darkest Night:
O Mother, Wife! Two deeply you have took
My Banishment, and I must chide your Sorrow.
This Sadness for my Absence, shew'd Dispair
Of Injur'd Martius Virtue, call'd in Question,
The Justice of the Gods for my Revenge;
Virgilia speak, speak Mother; at your Feet
Behold a kneeling Conqueror: Answer to me.
Vol.
Rise Martius, up, Coriolanus rise;
Whilst with no softer Cushion than these Flints;
I Kneel to thee, and with this new Submission,
Shew Duty as mistaken all this while,
Between the Son and Parent.
Cor.
What's this? Your Knees to me?
Then let the Pibbles of the Hungry Beach,
Change Station with the Stars; the Mutinous Winds,
Snatch Mountain-Oaks, and hurl 'em at the Sun;
Let all Impossibilities have Being,
And Nature fall as Giddy with the Round.
Vol.
My Fire-Ey'd Warrior, Do you know this Lady?
Cor.
The Noble Sister of Publicola,
The Moon of Rome, Chast as the frozen Snow,
That hangs on Diana's Temple.
Vol.
And this divine Epitome of yours;
This little Martius whom full Time shall ripen
Into your perfect self.
Cor.
The God of Battles,
49
Thy Thoughts with Nobleness; that thou mayst prove,
The Wars proud Standard fixt in Tides of Blood;
Like a tall Sea-mark o're the dashing Waves,
And saving those that view Thee.
Vol.
Your Knee Sirrah,
Ev'n He, your Wife, these Ladies, and my Self,
Are humble Suitors—
Cor.
Oh my boding Heart!
Vol.
This Liv'ry was not for your Absence worn;
So dear we knew your safety to the Gods:
But now put on as funeral Robes, and Mourning
For our expiring Rome. O spare thy Country,
And do not Murder Nature.
Cor.
Witness for me
You conqu'ring Host, and Thou my valiant Partner;
What Tenderness and Duty I have shewn
These Ladies, whilst they did converse with me
As Wife and Mother: but since they exceed
The Bounds of Kindred, and encroach upon
Affairs of State, I as the Volsces General,
Support their Dignity, and take my Pomp;
[Ascends his Throne.
Yet Nature shall to any suit, unlock
Our yielding Ear, that do's not tend to Save
The Roman State, and Barring our Revenge;
In that particular, I shall forget
All enter-course of Blood;
Standing as Man were Author of himself,
And knew no other Kin.
Vol.
No more, no more;
You have said you will not grant us any thing,
For we have nothing else to ask, but that
Which you deny already—yet we'll speak.
Cor.
Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark, for we
Hear nought from Rome in private—your request:
What seeks that lovely Tempter, whose Dove's Eyes
Cou'd make the Gods forsworn—but shake not me?
Virg.
Think with your self my once indulgent Lord,
How more unhappy than all living Women,
Are we come hither, since thy sight, that shou'd
50
Forcing the Mother, Wife, and Child, to see
The Son, the Husband, and the Father, tearing
His Countries Bowels with unnatural Rage,
Whilst frighted Destiny disowns the Deed,
And Hell is struck with Horrour.
Vol.
Thou debarr'st us
Ev'n of our Prayr's to th'Gods, and to this Hour,
No Wretchedness was e're deny'd that help:
How shall we ask the Death of Rome, or thee,
Oppos'd in fatal War; and one must fall?
Most wretched Martius, thou bleed'st ev'ry way;
For know 'tis sworn betwixt thy Wife and me,
In that curst hour that Thou despoilst our Citty,
Thou tread'st upon thy Mother's Earth.
Virg.
And mine; and this sweet smiling Flow'r.
Boy.
He shall not tread on me, I'll run away till I am bigger;
But then I'll Fight.
Cor.
Not to be struck with Woman's tenderness,
Requires, nor Child's, nor Woman's Face to see.
I have sate too long.
[Descends.
Virg.
Nay, go not from us thus:
If it were so, that our Request did tend
To Save the Romans, thereby to Destroy
The Volsces, whom you serve, you might condemn us,
As Poys'ners of your Honour: No, our suit
Is but to Reconcile 'em, that the Volsces
May say, This Mercy we have shewn the Romans;
This we receiv'd, whilst either Party gives
The Praise to Thee, and bless thy Memory,
For making this dear Peace.
Vol.
Thou know'st my Son,
Th'event of War's uncertain; but 'tis certain,
That if thou Conquer Rome, the Benefit
That thou shalt reap from thence, is such a Name,
As always shall be mention'd with a Curse:
Thy Chronicle writ thus; The Man was Noble,
But with his last performance stain'd his Glory,
And left his Rowl of Fame, but one foul Blot.
Pause, and reply to this.
51
Why chills my Blood?
Like a dull Actor now have I forgot
My Part, and stop even to a full Disgrace:
Away Affection; break ye Bonds of Nature;
In me 'tis virtuous to be obstinate:
Bid our Drums strike.
Vol.
Speak Daughter; Boy, speak thou;
Perhaps thy childishness may move him more,
Than all our Reasons: Never was there Man,
So much to an indulgent Mother bound,
Yet all neglected. Here he sees me begging;
Say my request's unjust, and spurn me back:
But if it be not so—he turns away.
Down Ladies, let us shame him with our Knees;
He bears more service for his Countrys Foes,
Than Pitty for our Prayers: Down, and finish;
This is our last; so will we back to Rome,
And dye i'th' common Slaughter—Nay, behold
This Boy, that cannot tell what he wou'd have;
Yet Kneels, and with up-lifted Hands,
Becomes a pleader for his Country too:
Remorsless still—Then give us our Dispatch;
We'll speak no more, till Rome be all on Fire.
Then joyning Curses with the Crowd, expire.
Cor.
O Mother-Goddess, dread Volumnia, turn:
What have you done? Behold the Heav'ns divide,
And Gods look down on this amazing Scene!
O Mother Goddess, Heav'n-born Advocate;
A happy Victory you've gain'd for Rome,
Though dang'rous for your Son. But let it come
Aufidius, though we press not on the War,
We'll frame convenient Peace. Now tell me Warriours,
If you were in my stand, Wou'd you have heard
A Mother less, or granted less, Aufidius?
Auf.
I was mov'd too.
Cor.
I dare be sworn you were:
What Peace you'l make, advise me; for my part,
I'll not to Rome, but back with you. Lead on,
Sound all our Trumpets—Ladies you deserve
To have a Temple built you: All Romes Legions,
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My sworn Revenge, and turn'd this Tide of Blood.
The End of the Fourth ACT.
| The Ingratitude of a Common-Wealth : Or, the fall of Laius Martius Coriolanus | |