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In honour follows, Coriolanus:-
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! (Flourish.

All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus !

Cor. No more of this; it does offend my heart;
Pray now, no more.
Com.

Look, sir, your mother,—
Cor.

0! You have, I know, petition'd all the gods For my prosperity.

[Kneels. Vol.

Nay, my good soldier, up;
My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and
By deed-achieving honour newly nam'd,
What is it? Coriolanus, must I call thee?
But O, thy wife-
Cor.

My gracious silence, hail 23 ! Would'st thou have laugh’d, had I come coffin'd

home,
That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah, my dear,
Such the widows in Corioli wear,
And mothers that lack sons.
Men.

Now the gods crown thee! Cor. And live you yet?-O my sweet lady, pardon.

[To Valeria, Vol. I know not where to turn :- welcome

home; And welcome, general;-—And you are welcome all.

Men. A hundred thousand welcomes: I could weep, And I could laugh; I am light, and heavy: Welcome: : A curse begin at very root of his heart, That is not glad to see thee!-You are three,

eyes

That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith of men,
We have some old crab-trees here at home, that will not
Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors:
We call a nettle, but a nettle; and
The faults of fools, but folly.
Com.

Ever right.
Cor. Menenius, ever, ever.
Her. Give way there, and go on.
Cor.

Your hand, and yours:

[To his wife and mother. Ere in our own house I do shade

my

head,
The good patricians must be visited;
From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings,
But with them change of honours.
Vol.

I have liy'd
To see inherited my very wishes,
And the buildings of my fancy: only there
Is one thing wanting, which I doubt not, but
Our Rome will cast upon thee.
Cor.

Know, good mother,
I had rather be their servant in my way,
Than
sway

with them in theirs. Com.

On, to the Capitol. [Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as

before. The Tribunes come forward. Bru. All tongues speak of him, and the bleared

sights
Are spectacled to see him: Your pratling nurse
Into a rapture lets her baby cry,
While she chats him: the kitchen malkin pins

Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck,
Clambering the walls to eye him: Stalls, bulks, win-

dows,
Are smother'd up, leads fill’d, and ridges hors'd
With variable complexions; all agreeing
In earnestness to see him : seld-shown flamens 24
Do press among the popular throngs, and puff
To win a vulgar station : our veil'd dames
Commit the war of white and damask, in
Their nicely-gawded cheeks, to the wanton spoil
Of Phæbus' burning kisses : such a pother,
As if that whatsoever god, who leads him,
Were slily crept into his human powers,
And gave him graceful posture.
Sic.

On the sudden,
I warrant him consul.
Bru.

Then our office may,
During his power, go sleep.

Sic. He cannot temperately transport his honours From where he should begin, and end; but will Lose those that he hath won. Bru.

In that there's comfort. Sic. Doubt not, the commoners, for whom we

stand, But they, upon their ancient malice, will Forget, with the least cause, these his new honours; Which that he'll give them, make I as little question As he is proud to do't. Bru.

I heard him swear, Were he to stand for consul, never would he

Appear i'the market-place, nor on him put
The napless vesture of humility;
Nor, showing (as the manner is) his wounds
To the people, beg their stinking breaths.
Sic.

'Tis right.
Bru. It was his word: 0, he would miss it, rather
Than carry it, but by the suit o' the gentry to him,
And the desire of the nobles.
Sic.

I wish no better,
Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it
In execution.
Bru.

'Tis most like, he will.
Sic. It shall be to him then, as our good wills;
A sure destruction.
Bru.

So it must fall out
To him, or our authorities. For an end,
We must suggest the people, in what hatred
He still hath held them; that, to his power, he would
Have made them mules, silenc'd their pleaders, and
Disproperty'd their freedoms: holding them,
In human action and capacity,
Of no more soul, nor fitness for the world,
Than camels in their war; who have their provand
Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows
For sinking under them.
Sic.

This, as you say, suggested At some time when his soaring insolence Shall teach the people, (which time shall not want, If he be put upon't; and that's as easy, As to set dogs on sheep,) will be his fire

VOL. XI.

E

To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze
Shall darken him for ever.

Enter a Messenger.
Bru.

What's the matter?
Mess. You are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis thought,
That Marcius shall be consul: I have seen
The dumb men throng to see him, and the blind
To hear him speak: The matrons flung their gloves,
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs,
Upon him as he pass’d: the nobles bended,
As to Jove's statue ; and the commons made
A shower, and thunder, with their caps, and shouts :
I never saw the like.
Bru.

Let's to the Capitol;
And carry with dis ears and eyes for the time,
But hearts for the event.
Sic.

Have with you. [Exeunt.

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Enter two Officers, to lay cushions. i Of. Come, come, they are almost here: How many stand for consulships?

2 Off. Three, they say: but 'tis thought of every one, Coriolanus will carry it.

i Off. That's a brave fellow; but he's vengeance proud, and loves not the common people.

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