A fick Man's Appetite, who defires most that,
Which would encrease his Evil. He that depends
Upon your Favours, fwims with fins of Lead,
And hews down Oaks with Rufhes. Hang ye - truft ye!
With every Minute you do change a Mind,
And call him Noble, that was now your Hate,
Him Vile, that was your Garland. What's the Matter,
That in the feveral places of the City

You cry against the Noble Senate, who

(Under the Gods) keep you in awe, which elfe
Would feed on one another? What's their seeking?
Men. For Corn at their own Rates, whereof they say,
The City is well ftor'd.

Mar. Hang 'em: They fay!

They'll fit by th' Fire, and prefume to know
What's done i'th' Capitol; who's like to rise,

Who thrives, and who declines: Side Factions, and give out
Conjectural Marriages; making Parties ftrong,
And feebling fuch as ftand not in their liking,
Below their cobled Shooes. They fay, there's Grain enough!
Would the Nobility lay afide their Ruth,

And let me ufe a Sword, I'd make a Quarry
With thousands of thefe quarter'd Slaves, as high

As I could pitch my Lance.

Men. Nay, thefe are almost throughly perfuaded:

For though abundantly they lack Difcretion,

Yet are they paffing cowardly.

What fays the other Troop?

But, I befeech you,

Mar. They are diffolv'd; hang'em,

They faid they were an hungry, figh'd forth Proverbs;
That Hunger broke Stone Walls that Dogs must eat,-

That Meat was made for Months-that the Gods fent not
Corn for the Rich Men only With these shreds

They vented their Complainings; which being anfwer'd, And a Petition granted them, a ftrange one,

To break the Heart of Generofity,

And make bold Power look pale; they threw their Caps
As they would hang them on the Horns o'th'Moon
Shooting their Emulation.

Men. What is granted them?

Mar.

Mar, Five Tribunes to defend their vulgar Wisdoms,
Of their own choice. One's Junius Brutus,
Sicinius Velutus, and I know not. S'death,
The Rabble should have first unrooft the City
E'er fo prevail'd with me; it will in time

Win upon Power, and throw forth greater Themes
For Infurrections arguing,

Men. This is ftrange.

Mar. Go get you home, you Fragments,

Enter a Messenger.

Mef. Where's Caius Martius?

Mar. Here

what's the Matter?

Mef. The News is, Sir, the Volfcies are in Arms. Mar. I am glad on't, then we fhall have means to vent Our mufty fuper fluity. See, our beft EldersEnter Sicinius Velutus, Junius Brutus, Cominius, Titus Lartius, with other Senators.

I Sen. Martins, 'tis true, that you have lately told us, The Volfcies are in Arms,

Mar. They have a Leader,

Tullius Aufidius, that will put you to't.

I fin in envying his Nobility:

And were I any thing but what I am,

I could wish me only he.

Com. You have fought together?

Mar. Were half to half the World by th' Ears, and he Upon my Party, I'd revolt, to make

Only my Wars with him. He is a Lion

That I am proud to hunt.

1 Sen. Then worthy Martins,

Attend upon Cominius to thefe Wars.
Com. It is your former promile,
Mar. Sir, it is;

And I am conftant: Titus Lartius, thou
Shalt fee me once more strike at Tullus's Face.

What, art thou ftiff? Stand'ft out?

Tit. No, Caius Martius,

I'll lean upon one Crotch, and fight with t'other;
E'er ftay behind this Bufinefs.

Men. Oh true bred.

Sen.

1 Sen. Your Company to th' Capitol; where I know Our greatest Friends attend us.

Tit. Lead you on; follow Cominius, we must follow you, right worthy your Priority.

Com. Noble Martius.

1 Sen. Hence to your Homes-be gone. [To the Citizens.
Mar. Let them follow,

The Volfcies have much Corn: take thefe Rats thither
To gnaw their Garners.
their Garners. Worfhipful Mutineers,
Your Valour puts well forth; pray follow.

[Exeunt. [Citizens fteal away. Manent Sicinius and Brutus.

Sic. Was ever Man so proud as is this Martius?
Bru. He has no equal.

Sic. When we were chofen Tribunes for the People-
Bru. Mark'd you his Lip and Eyes?

Sic. Nay, but his Taunts.

Bru. Being mov'd, he will not fpare to gird the Gods. Sic. Be-mock the modeft Moon.

Bru. The prefent Wars devour him, he is grown Too proud to be fo yaliant.

Sic. Such a Nature, tickled with good Succefs, difdaits the Shadow which he treads on at Noon, but I do wonder, his Infolence can brook to be commanded under Cominius? Bru. Fame, at the which he aims,

In whom already he is well grac'd, cannot
Better be held, nor more attain'd than by
A place below the firft; for what miscarries
Shall be the General's fault, tho' he perform
To the utmost of a Man; and giddy cenfure
Will then cry out of Martins: Oh, if he
Had born the Bufinefs

Sie. Befides, if things go well,

Opinion, that fo sticks on Martius, fhall

Of his demerits rob Cominius.

Bru. Come; half all Cominius's Honours are to Martins, Though Martius earn'd them not; and all his Faults

To Martius fhall be Honours, though indeed

In ought he merit not.

Sic. Let's hence, and hear

How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion,
More than his fingularity, he

Upon this prefent Action,

goes

Br

Bru. Let's along.

SCENE II. Coriolus.

[Exeunt.

Enter Tullus Aufidius with Senators of Coriolus.

I Sen. So, your Opinion is, Aufidius,

That they of Rome are entred in our Counsels,
And know how we proceed.

Auf. Is it not yours?

great,

What ever hath been thought on in this State
That could be brought to bodily act, e'er Rome
Had Circumvention? 'tis not four Days gone
Since I heard thence---the fe are the Words-.--I think
I have the Letter here, yes-here it is;
They have preft a Power, but it is not known
Whether for Eaft or Weft; the Dearth is
The People Mutinous; and it is rumour'd
Cominius, Martius your old Enemy,
(Who is of Rome worse hated than of you)
And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman,
These three lead on this Preparation.
Whither 'tis bent-moft likely, 'tis for you:
Confider of it.

1 Sen. Our Army's in the Field:

We never yet made doubt, but Rome is ready
To answer us.

Auf. Nor did you think it folly

To keep your great pretences veil'd, 'till when

They needs must fhew themselves, which in the hatching
It seem'd appear'd to Rome. By the discovery,

We fhall be fhortned in our Aim, which was
To take in many Towns, e'er (almost) Rome
Should know we are a-foot.

2 Sen. Noble Aufidius,

Take your Commiffion, hie you to your Bands,
Let us alone to guard Coriolus,

If they fet down before's: for the remove
Bring up your Army: But, I think, you'll find
They've not prepar'd for us.

Auf. O, doubt not that,

I fpeak from Certainties. Nay more,

Some parcels of their Power are forth already,

And

And only hitherward. I leave your Honours,
If we and Caius Martius chance to meet,
'Tis fworn between us, we fhall ever strike,
Till one can do no more.

All. The Gods affift you.

Auf. And keep your Honours fafe, 1 Sen. Farewel.

2 Sen. Farewel. All Farewel.

SCENE III. Rome.

[Exeunt.

Enter Valumnia and Virgilia, They set them down on two low Stools, and Sew.

1

Vol. I pray you, Daughter, Sing, or exprefs your self in a more comfortable fort: If my Son were my Husband, I would freelier rejoice in that abfence wherein he won Honour, than in the Embracements of his Bed, where he should fhew moft love. When yet he was but tender-bodied, and the only Son of my Womb; when Youth with Comliness plucked all gaze his way; when for a Day of Kings Entreaties, a Mother should not fell him an Hour from her beholding, I, confidering how Honour would become fuch a Perfon, that it was no better than Picture-like to hang by th' Wall, if Renown made it not ftir, was pleas'd to let him feek Danger where he was like to find Fame: To a cruel War I fent him, from whence he return'd, his Brows bound with Oak. I tell thee, Daughter, I fprang no more in Joy at first hearing he was a Man-child, than now in first seeing he had proved himself a Man.

Wir. But had he died in the Bufinefs, Madam, how then?

Kol. Then his good Report fhould have been my Son; I therein would have found Iffue. Hear me profefs fincerely: had I a dozen Sons each in my love alike, and none lefs dear than thine, and my good Martius, I had rather eleven dye nobly for their Country, than one voluptuously furfeit out of Action.

Enter a Gentlewoman.

Gent. Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to vifit you.
Vir. Befeech you, give me leave to retire my felf.
Vol. Indeed thou shalt not:

Me