 | The Invader of His Country : Or, The Fatal Resentment |  |
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ACT V.
SCENE I.
Enter Aufidius and four Tribunes.Auf.
Never was such a Torrent of Success.
Where-e'er we march we mark our Way with Ruin.
1 Trib.
The Roman Territories are so alter'd,
So chang'd from what they were with the wild waste,
The very Natives wilder'd, lose their way;
And the Possessors of the Fertil Soil
Behold their own, and seeing it require it.
2 Trib.
Beholding too the Romans, we require them.
Where are those Spirits that appear'd intrepid?
Those Spirits at whose sight our Voscian Troops
So often have turn'd pale with shivering Terror.
Auf.
The Soul of Caius Marcius was the Spirit
Invigorating all; now he has left them,
The whole vast Body is become a Lump
Of lifeless and half animated Clay.
3 Trib.
At least in Rome it self we thought to have found
Some firmness; even there, on our approach,
Confusion and wild Uproar seem to lord it,
And even the Brave despair; while Peasants fly
To them for shelter, they forsake their Walls,
And wanting Firmness to expect their Fate,
Come out to meet it here.
4 Trib.
Their very Priests rely on Heaven no more,
No more fall prostrate before Mars or Jove;
But leaving all their Temples unattended,
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As if that Marcius were the only God
On whom, for their Deliverance, they depend.
Auf.
Their Priests are fearful, superstitious Fools,
And proud or humble, always in excess.
But even their Heroes, and their Sages come;
Cominius and Menenius have been here,
The Fellow-Conqueror one, and both the Friends of Marcius:
Both bow'd their Knees, and both employ'd their Prayers,
Both cry'd for Mercy, and both cry'd in vain.
4 Trib.
Menenius, by the moving Tale he told,
Of what his Country suffer'd, melted all;
But Marcius still remain'd unmov'd, inflexible.
Auf.
Tribune, you must mistake, for I observ'd him
Look under with his Eyes, while he with Pain
Restrain'd the Moisture strugling to get free:
And much I question how he will sustain
This next and last Effort which Rome prepares.
3 Trib.
What may that be?
Auf.
A tender Train of mournful Ladies, with them
His Mother, and his Wife, and little Children,
Kneeling and holding up their Hands for Mercy.
Intelligence, on which I may depend,
Imports as much. If he at last relents—
1 Trib.
If he relents, he dies.
2 Trib.
If he relents, this Dagger's in his Heart.
3 Trib.
And mine.
4 Trib.
And mine.
Auf.
Away. 'Tis true, if he relents he dies,
But shall not basely be oppress'd by odds.
I, in so just Cause, alone suffice.
4 Trib.
You! will you set your Life against a Traytor's,
And to blind Fortune trust your Country's Cause?
Suppose he kills you?
Auf.
If he kills me, know
Aufidius will fall worthy of himself,
And of the Glory of his great Forefathers.
Yet for the sake of Antium, I'll take care
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I must receive him. To my Tent repair,
And there expect my coming.
All.
We will.
[Exeunt.
Enter Coriolanus.
Auf.
Now, noble Marcius, what is to be done?
Cor.
We will before the Walls of Rome, to-Morrow,
Set down our Host. My Partner in this Action,
You must acquaint the Volscian Lords how plainly
In all this matter I have born my self.
Auf.
You have regarded them alone, have stopt
Your Ears against the general Suit of Rome;
Refus'd all private Whispers, even with those
Who thought themselves secure of you.
Cor.
This last old Man,
Who with a broken Heart went back to Rome,
Lov'd me above the Measure of a Father;
Nay, deify'd me rather. Their last Refuge
Was to send him, for whose old Love I have,
Tho' I to him appear'd inexorable,
Offer'd the first Conditions they refus'd,
And cannot now, accept to grace him only,
Who thought he could do more. A very little
I have yielded to. Fresh Embassies and Suits,
Nor from the State, nor private Friends, hereafter
Will I lend Ear to. Ha, what Shout is that?
[Shout.
Shall I be tempted to infringe my Vow
The Moment that I make it? No, I will not.
Enter Virgilia, Volumnia, Valeria, Y. Marcius, with other Ladies and Attendants.
Auf.
Marcius, see here a mournful moving Train.
Cor.
Ha, Gods! a mournful moving Train indeed!
My Wife comes foremost, then the honour'd Mould
Wherein this Trunk was fram'd, and, in her Hand,
The Grand-Child to her Blood. But my Resentment
All Bond and Privilege and Nature breaks,
And lets dull Obstinacy now be Virtue.
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Ay, Marcius, bear this great, this utmost Tryal,
And thou hast reach'd the Top of Mortal Glory.
I leave you.
Cor.
Nay, Tullus, you must stay and see—
Auf.
Excuse me;
Such Entertainments want no Standers-by,
And your Integrity to me's unquestion'd.
I leave you to receive them.
[Exit.
Cor.
What is that Curt'sy worth? Or those Dove's Eyes,
Which can make Gods forsworn? I melt, and am not
Of stronger Earth than others. O for a Kiss!
Long as my Exile, sweet as my Revenge.
Now, by the jealous Queen of Love, that Kiss
I carry'd from my Love, and my true Lip
Hath ever since preserv'd it like a Virgin.
But oh, ye Gods, while fondly thus I talk,
See the most noble Mother of the World
Stands unsaluted; sink my Knee in Earth,
Of my deep Duty more Impression shew
Than that of common Sons.
Vol.
Have you forgot this Lady?
Cor.
The noble Sister of Poplicola,
The Moon of Rome, chaste as the Isicle
That's crudled by the Frost from purest Snow,
And hangs upon the Temple of Diana.
Vol.
This is a poor Epitome of yours,
Which by th' Interpretation of full Time
May shew like all your self.
Cor.
The God of Soldiers,
With the Consent of supreme Jove, inform
Thy Thoughts with Nobleness, that thou may'st prove
To Shame invulnerable, and shew in Battel
Like a great Sea Mark, standing ev'ry Flaw,
And saving those that eye thee.
Vol.
Ev'n he, your Wife, Valeria, and my self,
And all this Train of noble Roman Ladies,
Are Suitors to you.
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For any thing, except ungrateful Rome.
Vol.
Rome, tho' ungrateful, is your Country still.
Cor.
No; Rome, that cast me out, disown'd her Offspring;
And doubly I disown th' ungrateful City,
And Volscian Antium is my Country now:
'Tis Antium feeds, distinguishes, adores me,
Whereas Rome threw me out with basest Contumely.
Vol.
I never knew the Rabble yet was Rome;
Yet ev'n the Rabble have reveng'd thy Cause,
Have thrown their Tribunes from the Rock Tarpeian,
And voted thy Repeal.
Cor.
For that I thank my Volscians, and not them;
And I will laugh at their vile Fears, and use them
As my most deadly Foes; nay, my Revenge
Shall reach the very Walls that now protect them;
Yes, I'll destroy the very Walls that shelter them.
Vol.
'Tis a wild Vengeance,
That like an Earthquake, or a general Deluge,
Sweeps good and bad in a promiscuous Ruin:
Our noble Senators are all your Friends.
Cor.
No Coward ever can be term'd a Friend,
A Coward loves himself too well to be a Friend;
And 'twas the abject Fear of the base Senate
That sacrific'd me to the Rabble's Rage;
For which, to Volscian Swords, and Volscian Fire,
I'll sacrifice their City and themselves.
Vol.
Dar'st thou say this on this high Eminence,
From which thou now behold'st afflicted Rome,
Survey'st the awful Temples of our Gods,
That above all of Capitoline Jove?
Methinks I hear him from his sacred Hill
Speaking in Thunder thus; Have I decreed
That Rome should be my great Vicegerent here,
Should terminate its Empire with those bounds
That terminate the World; have I decreed this!
And Marcius, thou, dar'st thou attempt its Ruin?
And as he utters this in dreadful Tone,
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Lifting above the Clouds his awful Head,
And rolling in his Red Right Hand the Thunder.
Cor.
That Rome should be the Mistress of the Universe,
By Sovereign Justice ne'er could be decreed;
That Revelation's but a pious Fraud,
Invented first by Rome's ambitious Chiefs,
To sanctify their hourly Usurpations,
And make Injustice wear Religion's Mask.
Vol.
Oh impious!
Cor.
The Wills of Gods eternal are, like them;
And nought by Gods to Men can be reveal'd
That contradicts their great Original Will,
That contradicts great Nature's sacred Laws,
Those sacred Laws of just, and right, and fit,
Which the informing Breath of Jove at first
Infus'd into our new-created Souls.
Vol.
Yet still the Temples of our Gods are there,
Those Gods to whom thou hast so often sacrific'd,
The Gods of thy Fore-fathers. Can'st thou see them,
And impiously dar'st purpose to destroy them!
Cor.
'Tis true, indeed,
There are the Temples, but their Gods are Here:
Their Gods abandon'd Rome, when Marcius left it;
And above all, the God they most adore,
Great Mars, the Father of their boasted Founder,
With me he went t'inhabit Volscian Land,
With me he marches all the toilsome Day,
With me he all the watchful Night encamps;
See where he marks his Way with Fire and Blood,
To scourge th' ungrateful Romans!
Vol.
What hast thou said? Thy Voice has Daggers, Marcius,
And thou a cruel unrelenting Soul.
Ten thousand Widows, and as many Orphans
Already has thy dreadful Vengeance made;
Destroy'd their Substance all with Hostile Fire,
And now they wander helpless, friendless, comfortless,
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Enough to pierce the Hearts of Gods and Men.
Cor.
Thanks to their Tribunes, and their noble Senate,
Vol.
From hence thou seest the Temples of our Gods:
Oh could thy Eyes but pierce the sacred Walls,
And shew thee the wild Horror that's within,
The dismal sight would break thy cruel Heart.
Prostrate before each unrelenting God,
Thou would'st behold old venerable Age,
And helpless Infancy, and holy Matrons,
And Virgins wither'd in their Bloom with Sorrow;
All fainting, swooning, dying with the fear
Of what may fall to-morrow.
Virg.
Oh Gods, his Eyes their Firmness still maintain,
And we are lost for ever.
Vol.
Yet hast thou made thy Mother and thy Wife
More wretched than the miserablest Roman;
As thou'rt the Cause of all this Desolation,
A Cause that we can neither hate nor curse,
Nor pray for thy Defeat; the rest can pray,
And they who cannot pray, yet dare to hope,
And they who dare not hope, yet dare to wish,
And still are happy in th' extreamest Line.
But we can neither pray, nor hope, nor wish;
What can we wish for? for our Country's Triumph?
That is, alas, to wish for thy Destruction:
Or for thy Victory? Oh that's our Country's Ruin!
Cor.
I cannot, must not any longer hear you.
Vol.
A little more, and I have done for ever:
Th' Ingratitude of Rome provokes thy Wrath
To such a height, that nought but its Destruction
Can satisfy thy thirst of dire Revenge;
And yet was e'er Ingratitude like thine?
Cor.
Ingratitude? To whom?
Vol.
To whom, but me? to me, who gave thee Life,
By whom thou cam'st into the World a Roman,
Who took peculiar care t' instruct thy Childhood,
T' instruct thy Youth in every gen'rous Art;
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And steel'd thy Breast with Fortitude Divine,
Contempt of Danger, and contempt of Death,
Inflam'd thy Breast with thy dear Country's Love,
Love of great Actions and eternal Fame;
And who distinguish'd thee from other Romans,
As much as they're distinguish'd by the Gods
From all th' inferior Nations who surround them.
Now in requital of these matchless Benefits,
Ungrateful Marcius murders me.
Cor.
What means my Mother?
Vol.
And can'st thou ask? And art thou then to know
That 'tis the Maxim of each Roman Matron,
That when she can no longer live with Honour,
Great Jove aloud calls out to her to die.
And can I longer live with Honour? No;
If thou go'st on with thy curs'd Enterprize,
Death or eternal Infamy's my choice.
For I must either live to see my Country
In its last Pangs, and hear its dying Groans,
While thou, my Child, art the detested Cause,
The Subject of its frightful Imprecations;
Or live to see thee dragg'd thro' Roman Streets,
A dreadful Spectacle to Gods and Men,
And doom'd to die the most accursed Death
Of Traytors and of Parricides.
Therefore thou either must desist, or kill me;
This very moment thou must kill me, Marcius;
Here, here's the Dagger, but thou giv'st the Blow;
Yes, thou must pass o'er Her who gave thee Life,
Before thou stir'st one Step t' assault thy Country.
Cor.
What would, at last, my Mother have me do?
Must I be banish'd by the Volscians too?
But justly banish'd, banish'd as a Traytor?
Must I betray my Benefactors then?
Must I betray th' important Trust repos'd in me?
And so become the Out-cast of all Nations?
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I would not have thee do a shameful thing,
But love thy Glory equal with my Life;
No; reconcile the jarring Nations only.
Cor.
That's to betray them: They resolve on Conquest,
And will be satisfy'd with nought but Empire,
At least with Restitution of the Lands
The Romans so unjustly have usurp'd from them;
That was the Treaty which Menenius sign'd,
And which Rome afterwards refus'd to ratify.
If without that Condition I desist,
How can I e'er behold Aufidius more?
Or with what Eyes regard the Volscian Lords?
Or from the Volscian People what expect
But Infamy and Ruin?
Virg.
The Gods forbid, thou e'er should'st see them more,
No: Rome, repenting of its barb'rous Usage,
Has with one Voice repeal'd its cruel Sentence.
To Rome with me thou surely shalt return.
Cor.
And how can I behold afflicted Rome,
Or how can Rome behold me?
Me, who have laid its Territories waste,
Destroy'd its Cities with consuming Fire,
And made ten thousand of its bleeding Sons
Feel my remorseless Sword's devouring Edge.
If I was banish'd when I fought and conquer'd for them,
What can I now expect but certain Death
From its tumultous, feeble, faithless Tribunes?
Not only my Revenge, my Preservation
Requires that Rome should fall. Can you desire
Your Son should die to save his mortal Foes?
No: Perish, perish this ungrateful City!
Vol.
Dye then, Volumnia: But, before I die,
Thus, thus the Mother falls at the Son's Feet,
Not to ask any Pity for her self,
But Mercy, Mercy, for her sinking Country.
Down, Ladies, down.
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Oh, the confusion of my tortur'd Soul!
Vol.
Pronounce Rome safe, or I am fall'n for ever.
Cor.
Ye Gods, ye Gods! live Rome, and Marcius die first.
Oh, rise, my Mother; you and Rome have conquer'd;
But your unhappy Son's for ever lost.
Hoa! Who waits there?
Give Orders that the Troops return tow'rds Antium,
And tell Aufidius I expect him here.
The Troops march back towards Antium, where must I go?
Virg.
Once more with us to Rome thou shalt return.
Thy Apprehensions to the Winds deliver.
Our Romans will regard thee as a God,
For shewing Mercy to thy bleeding Country,
After such mortal Provocations giv'n
By black Ingratitude, and base Injustice.
Vol.
Thou hast done a Godlike Deed, and supream Jove,
And ev'ry God who sees it, will reward it.
Virg.
Thou'st rais'd up a whole miserable People,
All in a moment, from Despair to Rapture.
Vol.
Oh, the transporting Joy that we shall meet
At our Return in ev'ry Voice and Eye!
Virg.
Our greatest Conquerors were ne'er receiv'd
With half the Joy, with half the Acclamations!
Vol.
Then what must our tempestuous Raptures be!
Oh, we are happy as the Deathless Gods!
Nor shall our Triumph be confin'd to Rome,
Or the short Time we live.
Virg.
No: o'er the Universe its Fame shall spread.
Vol.
Nations unborn, and Languages unform'd
Shall tell the blissful Tale, and bless the Actors.
Yes, with Immortal Bliss, Immortal Fame—
Virg.
And everlasting Love we shall be crown'd.
Blest with the long Possession of my Marcius,
I ne'er till Death will part with him again.
Cor.
Here cease your Transports. See, Aufidius comes:
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For I must take a long but fair Adieu.
[Ex. Women.
Enter Aufidius.
Tullus Aufidius. Ha!
Why dost thou greet me with this alter'd Countenance,
This silent Wonder in thy wrathful Eyes?
Auf.
Just now a Slave brought Orders to the Troops
That they should backward turn their March to Antium;
And impudently said he came from you.
Cor.
'Tis true, I sent him.
Auf.
Then, Caius Marcius, you have done much Wrong
To me, and all the Volscians.
Cor.
O Tullus, Tullus, hadst thou but been by
To hear the piercing things that mov'd my Soul,
Thou would'st have sworn they might engage even Jove
To change his high Decrees.
Auf.
Your Mother and your Wife we know have done this.
Cor.
The noblest Mother, and the tender'st Wife!
Auf.
Yes, they are dear Relations, I confess,
And 'tis for them you set at Scorn the Gods,
By whom so solemnly you swore.
Cor.
Unlawful Oaths are in themselves invalid.
And is it lawful to destroy my Country?
Auf.
No, not your Country, but your mortal Foes;
And so the Romans, by their barb'rous Usage,
You said were grown: You said, and spoke the Truth;
And this is but a poor and mean Evasion,
And you must answer 't to th' Avenging Gods,
By whom you swore with bitter Imprecations.
Cor.
Then I will answer it; let that suffice;
And to the Gods alone I'll be accountable.
Auf.
Yes, I dare trust them, soon they will revenge
The Wrong that's done to their Almighty Powers:
But you must answer your Offence to me.
Cor.
To you!
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To me, ungrateful Man.
Who took you in, with open Arms, but I,
A supplicating Exil and a Vagabond,
Fallen below Pity, nay below Contempt?
Who gave his Honour to the Volscian Lords,
That you inviolably should be theirs?
And rais'd you up to more than former Glory,
And even to envied Greatness, to the Power
Of taking a Revenge as ample as thy Wish?
Now what's the great Return you make for this?
Cor.
Such a Return as none but I could make;
Such a Return as, not ten Days ago,
Would have been Phrensy in the proudest Volscian
To hope, or to expect.
I infus'd Spirit thro' your abject Troops,
Gave them a Taste of Deathless Victory,
First shew'd them that the Romans can be conquer'd:
Compell'd my Countrymen to sue for Peace,
And sign an ignominious Treaty with you;
The same Conditions which Menenius brought;
Shameful for them, but glorious to your Troops,
And advantagious to the Volscian State.
Auf.
Name not the faithless Treaty, that condemns you;
For to what serves it, but to give Rome Breath
To recollect her self, and pour Revenge
Into the very Heart of Volscian Land?
Doing no more, thou hast done less than nothing,
But rankled and envenom'd more a Foe
Too much provok'd by cursed Pride before.
Cor.
How selfish Men stalk under public Zeal
To their base Ends! Before this Peace was granted
Thou wert not satisfy'd, but to thy Followers
Thou breath'dst, in Corners, sullen Discontent.
Then I went on too fast, and too precipitate,
And left whole Fortresses and Towns behind me,
With an Intention to betray the Volscians,
By cutting off their Intercourse with Antium.
'Tis not too little, but too much Success,
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Auf.
Envy a Traytor and a Parricide!
Cor.
Thou say'st that I have Obligations to thee;
To them thou owest that thou speak'st this, and liv'st.
Yes, take thy Life; Jove gave it thee at first,
I give it now; and now I owe thee nothing.
Auf.
My Life from you! First have it in your Power.
Cor.
Thou know'st, Aufidius, 'tis much harder for me
To say I'll kill thee, than to strike the Blow.
Twelve times, thou know'st, when I advanc'd my Sword
The Destinies advanc'd their fatal Sheers,
And nought but ignominious Flight could save thee.
Auf.
And canst thou think thou art the Man thou wer't,
When thou retain'dst thy Honour and thy Virtue?
Cor.
Both Gods and Men, with one Consent, proclaim
That Marcius is the Man he always was;
His Honour and his Virtue still the same:
And therefore the Immortal Powers assist me,
And Fortune is my Friend and my Confed'rate,
And whatsoever Side I chuse, for that declares
'Tis I that made my soaring Country stoop,
That never stoop'd before; and when they su'd
For Peace, to me they supplicating su'd,
And took no Notice of the Great Aufidius.
Now try the Voices of thy Countrymen;
I gave them Orders to march back to Antium,
See then if thou can'st lead them on to Rome.
Auf.
Too well I am convinc'd thou hast seduc'd,
By cursed Flattery, and by shameful Arts,
My Followers, my Soldiers, and my Friends.
Cor.
'Tis likely I should stoop to flatter Volscians,
Who ne'er could bow my Nature to Compliance
Even with my Country's mean and abject Customs.
'Twas my Authority alone seduc'd them,
Authority from Deathless Actions drawn,
And from my Triumphs o'er their baffled Leader.
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Oh, they must needs admire the wondrous Man,
Who for some certain Drops of Womens Rheum,
That are as cheap as Lies, betray'd and sold
The Labour of their Noble Enterprize,
Their Interest, and their Glory.
Cor.
Thus far I've struggling curb'd my impatient Nature,
But on thy Life no more; for, by great Mars—
Auf.
Name not the God, thou Boy of Tears.
Cor.
Nay then—
Auf.
Upon this Spot retract thy injurious Order,
Or thou shalt seal it with thy Blood, or mine.
Cor.
Then take thy Wish.
This Boy, that, like an Eagle in a Dove-Court,
Flutter'd a thousand Volscians in Corioli,
And did it without Second or Assistance,
Thus sends their mighty Chief to rail in Hell.
[Fight, Aufid. falls.
Auf.
O Marcius! thou hast conquer'd, and Aufidius
Is now but Dust; but, with my flowing Blood,
My Frantic Passion cools; forgive me, Marcius,
That I thus far provok'd thy noble Nature:
And I, to merit thy Forgiveness, tell thee
That thou, like me, art in the Shades of Death,
And soon wilt follow me, unless thou—Oh!
[Dies.
Cor.
Hail! and eternally Farewell, brave Tullus!
But what's the Caution Death thus interrupted?
Thou soon shalt follow me, unless thou—what?
Oh! here's the Explication of th' Ænigma.
Enter three of the Tribunes, with their Swords drawn.
1 Trib.
Where is our General?
Cor.
There.
1 Trib.
What Wretch's Hand has done this cursed Deed?
Cor.
A Wretch whose Hand's inur'd to Volscian Blood.
Then love thy self, and vanish. Go, be gone,
Provoke him not.
1 Trib.
Provoke the Villain!
I come not only to provoke but kill him.
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If thou hast Power to kill him, he'll engage
To own that he's a Villain. This to try.
[Kills him.
So, for all thee I still am very Honest.
2 Trib.
Our fourth Man either loyters, or betrays us.
Let us strike home, and let us strike together.
We will revenge our General and our Friend.
What, do you recoil?
Cor.
Yes, like a Martial Engine, to advance
With certain Execution. Lie thou there.
[Kills the second. Women shriek behind the Scenes.
Enter fourth Tribune.
Vol. and Vir.
Behind, Oh, look behind.
Cor.
The Women see and shriek. I must dispatch,
These two are Victims to my just Resentment,
Fall thou a Sacrifice to Tullus' Ghost
[Kills the 3d Trib. and the 4th runs him thro' the Back.
4 Trib.
Now falls the Sacrifice which most will please him.
[Loud Shriek.
Cor.
No, treacherous Villain, I have Life remaining
To send thee to the under World before me,
And thou shalt be the Lacquey of my Fate.
Fly, Dog, and tell Aufidius that I come.
[Falls.
[Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria.
Vol.
Alas, my Son, my Son!
Vir.
My dearest Lord!
Ah, Gods, the Blood runs streaming from his Wound!
He bleeds to Death! and is no Succour nigh?
Haste, fly for help.
Cor.
All Help is vain, for we must part, Virgilia.
Vir.
No, we must not; there's not a God in Heaven
So cruel to decree me quite so wretched.
Cor.
My Blood and Life are at the lowest Ebb.
Vir.
Ah, now I see a Sight that will distract me,
And dread the utmost Malice of my Fate;
For the first time my Marcius now turns pale.
Vol.
Yet looks undaunted still.
Cor.
Mother, farewell. Nay, if you weep!—
Vol.
'Tis I have only Cause, 'tis I have done this,
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And I have kill'd my Son.
Cor.
You have sav'd your Country.
Vol.
What's my Country now,
To me a Widow, helpless, childless, comfortless?
Cor.
My everlasting Fame be now your Son,
And your own Deathless Glory be your Husband.
Where-ever Roman Annals shall be read,
The Godlike Action you have done this Day
To endless Ages will transmit your Name,
And all the Good eternally will bless you.
Be it your Care to comfort poor Virgilia.
Vir.
Is this the Happiness that I expected?
Now first I hop'd to have thee mine entirely,
Inseparably mine, and now we part,
For ever part. And must we? No, we will not;
For when thou go'st Virgilia will not stay.
Cor.
Virgilia, let me die as I have liv'd,
And, like a Roman, view the Tyrant Death,
With Scorn, as I have always done in Battle.
Thy Grief alone can make him formidable,
One parting Kiss, a long, a long Farewell.
[Dies.
Vir.
He's gone, he's gone, and I no more must see him!
No more must dwell upon his charming Tongue,
And hang on his enchanting Lips no more.
And thou prophetic Vision of the Night,
And ye the dire Forebodings of my Soul,
All, all is come to pass. See here he lies:
Ay, here he lies, surpriz'd, surrounded, murther'd.
Vol.
Yet in his Fall he still is Coriolanus,
Himself alone a Conqueror o'er Numbers;
Himself the dread Revenger of his Murther.
But the just Gods require an ampler Vengeance,
For their lov'd Heroe's Death. Even now the Years
Come crouding on, for so the Gods inspire me,
When Rome shall all the Land around possess,
And even the Name of Volscian be no more.
[Shout.
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My Lords Cominius and Menenius here!
Com.
We came with fresh Instructions from the Senate,
And larger Offers still of shameful Peace,
But find the Volscians fled in wild Confusion,
And panic Fright, for so our Hinds inform us;
Upon what wondrous Accident they know not.
Vol.
See there the Cause;
See where their mighty Chief, Aufidius, lies.
Men.
And, Oh! see Marcius pale in Blood beside him.
Com.
What provok'd Death to make this dismal Havock!
Vol.
That Question must redouble all my Griefs:
I was the fatal, I the only Cause.
Com.
You?
Vol.
I, on my Son, prevail'd at length for Mercy;
Which caus'd Aufidius Rage, and all their Fates.
Com.
O Death! thou hast a costly Conquest made,
And wasted all at once, like foolish Spendthrifts,
The Soil that would have brought thee many a plenteous Harvest.
Tho' Marcius fill'd his Country with Confusion,
Which still lies struggling in Convulsive Pangs,
He shall not pass unprais'd nor unlamented:
For 'twas thy Fate in Death, as in thy Life,
To be thy Country's Champion and Deliverer.
In solemn, slow Procession let us march,
And bear the sad Remains of him to Rome,
Where pompous Rites of Funeral shall be paid them.
Where, Ladies, you who have thus nobly sav'd
Your Country, shall receive immortal Honours.
But they who thro' Ambition, or Revenge,
Or impious Int'rest, join with foreign Foes,
T' invade or to betray their Native Country,
Shall find, like Coriolanus, soon or late,
From their perfidious Foreign Friends their Fate.
FINIS.
| The Invader of His Country : Or, The Fatal Resentment | |