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Cit. And you.

Direct me, if it be your will,
Where great Aufidius lies: Is he in Antium?

Cit. He is, and feasts the nobles of the state,
At his house this night.

Which is his house, 'beseech you?
Cit. This, here, before you.

Thank you, sir; farewell.

[Erit Citizen. O, world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn, Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart, Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal, and exercise, Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love Unseparable, shall within this hour, On a dissention of a doit, break out To bitterest enmity: So, fellest foes, Whose passions and whose plots have broke their

sleep To take the one the other, by some chance, Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends, And interjoin their issues. So with me:My birth-place hate I, and my love's upon This enemy town.—I'll enter: if he slay me, He does fair justice; if he give me way, I'll do his country service.



The Same. A Hall in Aufidius's House.

Musick within. Enter a Servant.

1 Serv. Wine, wine, wine! What service is here! I think our fellows are asleep.


Enter another Servant,

2 Sero. Where's Cotus? my master calls for him. Cotus!



Cor. A goodly house: The feast smells well: but I Appear not like a guest.

Re-enter the first Serdant. 1 Ser. What would you have, friend? Whence are you? Here's no place for you: Pray, go to the door.

Cor. I have desery'd no better entertainment, In being Coriolanus.

Re-enter second Servant,

2 Serv. Whence are you, sir? Has the porter his eyes in his head, that he gives entrance to such companions? Pray, get you out.

Cor. Away!
2 Serv. Away ? Get you away.

Cor. Now thou art troublesome.

2 Serv. Are you so brave? I'll have you talk'd with anon.

Enter a third Servant. The first meets him. 3 Sero. What fellow's this?

i Serv. A strange one as ever I look'd on: I cannot get him o'the house: Pr’ythee, call my master to him.

3 Serv. What have you to do here, fellow? Pray you, avoid the house. Cor. Let me but stand; I will not hurt your

hearth. 3 Sero. What are you? Cor. A gentleman. 3 Sero. A marvellous poor one. Cor. True, so I am.

3 Serv. Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other station: here's no place for you; pray you, avoid :

Cor. Follow your function, go. And batten on cold bits.

[Pushes him away. 3 Sero. What, will you not? Pr'ythee, tell my master what a strange guest he has here. 2 Serv. And I shall.

[Erit. 3 Serv. Where dwell'st thou ? Cor. Under the canopy. 3 Sero. Under the canopy?

: come.

Cor. Ay.

3 Serv. Where's that?

Cor. I' the city of kites and crows.

3 Serv. l' the city of kites and crows?-What an ass it is!—Then thou dwell'st with daws too?

Cor. No, I serve not thy master.

3 Sero. How, sir! Do you meddle with my master?

Cor. Ay; 'tis an honester service, than to meddle with thy mistress : Thou prat'st, and prat'st; serve with thy trencher, hence!

[Beats him away.

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Enter AUFIDIUS and the second Servant.

Auf. Where is this fellow?

2 Serv. Here, sir; I'd have beaten him like a dog,
but for disturbing the lords within.
Auf. Whence comest thou? what wouldest thou?

Thy name?
Why speak’st not? Speak, man: What's thy name?

If, Tullus, [unmuffling.
Not yet thou know'st me, and seeing me, dost not
Think me for the man I am, necessity
Commands me name myself.

What is thy name?

[Servants retire.
Cor. A name unmusical to the Volcians' ears,
And harsh in sound to thine.

Say, what's thy name?
Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face
Bears a command in't; though thy tackle's torn,
Thou show'st a noble vessel: What's thy name?

Cor. Prepare thy brow to frown: Know'st thou me

yet? Auf. I know thee not:-Thy name?

Cor. My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done To thee particularly, and to all the Volces, Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may My surname, Coriolanus: The painful service, The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood Shed for my thankless country, are requited But with that surname; a good memory, And witness of the malice and displeasure Which thou should'st bear me: only that name re

mains; The cruelty and envy of the people, Permitted by our dastard nobles, who Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest; And suffer'd me by the voice of slaves to be Whoop'd out of Rome. Now, this extremity Hath brought me to thy hearth; Not out of hope, Mistake me not, to save my life; for if I had fear’d death, of all the men i' the world I would have 'voided thee: but in mere spite, To be full quit of those my banishers, Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast A heart of wreak in thee, that will revenge Thine own particular wrongs, and stop those maims Of shame 54

seen through thy country, speed thee

straight, And make my misery serve thy turn; so use it, That my revengeful services may prove

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