| Rome. A Public Place. | 
|  | 
| Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS. | 
| Sic.  We hear not of him, neither need we fear him; | 
| His remedies are tame i' the present peace | 
| And quietness o' the people, which before | 
| Were in wild hurry. Here do we make his friends | 
| Blush that the world goes well, who rather had, | 
| Though they themselves did suffer by 't, behold | 
| Dissentious numbers pestering streets, than see | 
| Our tradesmen singing in their shops and going | 
| About their functions friendly. | 
|  | 
| Enter MENENIUS. | 
| Bru.  We stood to 't in good time. Is this Menenius? | 
| Sic.  'Tis he, 'tis he. O! he is grown most kind | 
| Of late. Hail, sir! | 
| Men.        Hail to you both! | 
| Sic.  Your Coriolanus is not much miss'd | 
| But with his friends: the commonwealth doth stand, | 
| And so would do, were he more angry at it. | 
| Men.  All's well; and might have been much better, if | 
| He could have temporiz'd. | 
| Sic.        Where is he, hear you? | 
| Men.  Nay, I hear nothing: his mother and his wife | 
| Hear nothing from him. | 
|  | 
| Enter three or four Citizens. | 
| Citizens.  The gods preserve you both! | 
| Sic.        Good den, our neighbours. | 
| Bru.  Good den to you all, good den to you all. | 
| First Cit.  Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our knees, | 
| Are bound to pray for you both. | 
| Sic.        Live, and thrive! | 
| Bru.  Farewell, kind neighbours: we wish'd Coriolanus | 
| Had lov'd you as we did. | 
| Citizens.        Now the gods keep you! | 
| Sic. Bru.  Farewell, farewell.  [Exeunt Citizens.
 | 
| Sic.  This is a happier and more comely time | 
| Than when these fellows ran about the streets | 
| Crying confusion. | 
| Bru.        Caius Marcius was | 
| A worthy officer i' the war; but insolent, | 
| O'ercome with pride, ambitious past all thinking, | 
| Self-loving,— | 
| Sic.        And affecting one sole throne, | 
| Without assistance. | 
| Men.        I think not so. | 
| Sic.  We should by this, to all our lamentation, | 
| If he had gone forth consul, found it so. | 
| Bru.  The gods have well prevented it, and Rome | 
| Sits safe and still without him. | 
|  | 
| Enter an Ædile. | 
| Æd.  Worthy tribunes, | 
| There is a slave, whom we have put in prison, | 
| Reports, the Volsces with two several powers | 
| Are enter'd in the Roman territories, | 
| And with the deepest malice of the war | 
| Destroy what lies before them. | 
| Men.        'Tis Aufidius, | 
| Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishment, | 
| Thrusts forth his horns again into the world; | 
| Which were inshell'd when Marcius stood for Rome, | 
| And durst not once peep out. | 
| Sic.  Come, what talk you of Marcius? | 
| Bru.  Go see this rumourer whipp'd. It cannot be | 
| The Volsces dare break with us. | 
| Men.        Cannot be! | 
| We have record that very well it can, | 
| And three examples of the like have been | 
| Within my age. But reason with the fellow, | 
| Before you punish him, where he heard this, | 
| Lest you shall chance to whip your information, | 
| And beat the messenger who bids beware | 
| Of what is to be dreaded. | 
| Sic.        Tell not me: | 
| I know this cannot be. | 
| Bru.        Not possible. | 
|  | 
| Enter a Messenger. | 
| Mess.  The nobles in great earnestness are going | 
| All to the senate-house: some news is come, | 
| That turns their countenances. | 
| Sic.        'Tis this slave.— | 
| Go whip him 'fore the people's eyes: his raising; | 
| Nothing but his report. | 
| Mess.        Yes, worthy sir, | 
| The slave's report is seconded; and more, | 
| More fearful, is deliver'd. | 
| Sic.        What more fearful? | 
| Mess.  It is spoke freely out of many mouths— | 
| How probable I do not know—that Marcius, | 
| Join'd with Aufidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome, | 
| And vows revenge as spacious as between | 
| The young'st and oldest thing. | 
| Sic.        This is most likely. | 
| Bru.  Rais'd only, that the weaker sort may wish | 
| Good Marcius home again. | 
| Sic.        The very trick on 't. | 
| Men.  This is unlikely: | 
| He and Aufidius can no more atone, | 
| Than violentest contrariety. | 
|  | 
| Enter another Messenger. | 
| Sec. Mess.  You are sent for to the senate: | 
| A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius, | 
| Associated with Aufidius, rages | 
| Upon our territories; and have already | 
| O'erborne their way, consum'd with fire, and took | 
| What lay before them. | 
|  | 
| Enter COMINIUS. | 
| Com.  O! you have made good work! | 
| Men.        What news? what news? | 
| Com.  You have holp to ravish your own daughters, and | 
| To melt the city leads upon your pates. | 
| To see your wives dishonour'd to your noses,— | 
| Men.  What's the news? what's the news? | 
| Com.  Your temples burned in their cement, and | 
| Your franchises, whereon you stood, confin'd | 
| Into an auger's bore. | 
| Men.        Pray now, your news?— | 
| You have made fair work, I fear me. Pray, your news? | 
| If Marcius should be join'd with Volscians,— | 
| Com.        If! | 
| He is their god: he leads them like a thing | 
| Made by some other deity than Nature, | 
| That shapes man better; and they follow him, | 
| Against us brats, with no less confidence | 
| Than boys pursuing summer butterflies, | 
| Or butchers killing flies. | 
| Men.        You have made good work, | 
| You, and your apron-men; you that stood so much | 
| Upon the voice of occupation and | 
| The breath of garlic-eaters! | 
| Com.        He will shake | 
| Your Rome about your ears. | 
| Men.        As Hercules | 
| Did shake down mellow fruit. You have made fair work! | 
| Bru.  But is this true, sir? | 
| Com.        Ay; and you'll look pale | 
| Before you find it other. All the regions | 
| Do smilingly revolt; and who resist | 
| Are mock'd for valiant ignorance, | 
| And perish constant fools. Who is't can blame him? | 
| Your enemies, and his, find something in him. | 
| Men.  We are all undone unless | 
| The noble man have mercy. | 
| Com.        Who shall ask it? | 
| The tribunes cannot do't for shame; the people | 
| Deserve such pity of him as the wolf | 
| Does of the shepherds: for his best friends, if they | 
| Should say, 'Be good to Rome,' they charg'd him even | 
| As those should do that had deserv'd his hate, | 
| And therein show'd like enemies. | 
| Men.        'Tis true: | 
| If he were putting to my house the brand | 
| That should consume it, I have not the face | 
| To say, 'Beseech you, cease.'—You have made fair hands, | 
| You and your crafts! you have crafted fair! | 
| Com.        You have brought | 
| A trembling upon Rome, such as was never | 
| So incapable of help. | 
| Sic. & Bru.        Say not we brought it. | 
| Men.  How! Was it we? We lov'd him; but, like beasts | 
| And cowardly nobles, gave way unto your clusters, | 
| Who did hoot him out o' the city. | 
| Com.        But I fear | 
| They'll roar him in again. Tullus Aufidius, | 
| The second name of men, obeys his points | 
| As if he were his officer: desperation | 
| Is all the policy, strength, and defence, | 
| That Rome can make against them. | 
|  | 
| Enter a troop of Citizens. | 
| Men.        Here come the clusters. | 
| And is Aufidius with him? You are they | 
| That made the air unwholesome, when you cast | 
| Your stinking greasy caps in hooting at | 
| Coriolanus' exile. Now he's coming; | 
| And not a hair upon a soldier's head | 
| Which will not prove a whip: as many cox-combs | 
| As you threw caps up will he tumble down, | 
| And pay you for your voices. 'Tis no matter; | 
| If he could burn us all into one coal, | 
| We have deserv'd it. | 
| Citizens.  Faith, we hear fearful news. | 
| First Cit.        For mine own part, | 
| When I said banish him, I said 'twas pity. | 
| Sec. Cit.  And so did I. | 
| Third Cit.  And so did I; and, to say the truth, so did very many of us. That we did we did for the best; and though we willingly consented to his banishment, yet it was against our will. | 
| Com.  You're goodly things, you voices! | 
| Men.        You have made | 
| Good work, you and your cry! Shall's to the Capitol? | 
| Com.  O! ay; what else?  [Exeunt COMINIUS and MENENIUS. | 
| Sic.  Go, masters, get you home; be not dismay'd: | 
| These are a side that would be glad to have | 
| This true which they so seem to fear. Go home, | 
| And show no sign of fear. | 
| First Cit.  The gods be good to us! Come, masters, let's home. I ever said we were i' the wrong when we banished him. | 
| Sec. Cit.  So did we all. But come, let's home.  [Exeunt Citizens. | 
| Bru.  I do not like this news. | 
| Sic.  Nor I. | 
| Bru.  Let's to the Capitol. Would half my wealth | 
| Would buy this for a lie! | 
| Sic.        Pray let us go.  [Exeunt. | 
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