Brut. Or let vs stand to our Authoritie, Or let vs lose it: we doe here pronounce, Vpon the part o'th' People, in whose power We were elected theirs, Martius is worthy Of present Death

Scici. Therefore lay hold of him: Beare him toth' Rock Tarpeian, and from thence Into destruction cast him

Brut. aediles seize him

All Ple. Yeeld Martius, yeeld

Mene. Heare me one word, 'beseech you Tribunes, heare me but a word

Aediles. Peace, peace

Mene. Be that you seeme, truly your Countries friend, And temp'rately proceed to what you would Thus violently redresse

Brut. Sir, those cold wayes, That seeme like prudent helpes, are very poysonous, Where the Disease is violent. Lay hands vpon him, And beare him to the Rock.

Corio. drawes his Sword.

Corio. No, Ile die here: There's some among you haue beheld me fighting, Come trie vpon your selues, what you haue seene me

Mene. Downe with that Sword, Tribunes withdraw a while

Brut. Lay hands vpon him

Mene. Helpe Martius, helpe: you that be noble, helpe him young and old

All. Downe with him, downe with him.

Exeunt.

In this Mutinie, the Tribunes, the aediles, and the People are beat in.

Mene. Goe, get you to our House: be gone, away. All will be naught else

2.Sena. Get you gone

Com. Stand fast, we haue as many friends as enemies

Mene. Shall it be put to that? Sena. The Gods forbid: I prythee noble friend, home to thy House, Leaue vs to cure this Cause

Mene. For 'tis a Sore vpon vs, You cannot Tent your selfe: be gone, 'beseech you

Corio. Come Sir, along with vs

Mene. I would they were Barbarians, as they are, Though in Rome litter'd: not Romans, as they are not, Though calued i'th' Porch o'th' Capitoll: Be gone, put not your worthy Rage into your Tongue, One time will owe another

Corio. On faire ground, I could beat fortie of them

Mene. I could my selfe take vp a Brace o'th' best of them, yea, the two Tribunes

Com. But now 'tis oddes beyond Arithmetick, And Manhood is call'd Foolerie, when it stands Against a falling Fabrick. Will you hence, Before the Tagge returne? whose Rage doth rend Like interrupted Waters, and o're-beare What they are vs'd to beare

Mene. Pray you be gone: Ile trie whether my old Wit be in request With those that haue but little: this must be patcht With Cloth of any Colour

Com. Nay, come away.

Exeunt. Coriolanus and Cominius.

Patri. This man ha's marr'd his fortune

Mene. His nature is too noble for the World: He would not flatter Neptune for his Trident, Or Ioue, for's power to Thunder: his Heart's his Mouth: What his Brest forges, that his Tongue must vent, And being angry, does forget that euer He heard the Name of Death.

A Noise within.

Here's goodly worke

Patri. I would they were a bed

Mene. I would they were in Tyber. What the vengeance, could he not speake 'em faire? Enter Brutus and Sicinius with the rabble againe.

Sicin. Where is this Viper, That would depopulate the city, & be euery man himself Mene. You worthy Tribunes

Sicin. He shall be throwne downe the Tarpeian rock With rigorous hands: he hath resisted Law, And therefore Law shall scorne him further Triall Then the seuerity of the publike Power, Which he so sets at naught

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

All Pages of This Book