Actus Quartus.

Enter Coriolanus, Volumnia, Virgilia, Menenius, Cominius, with the yong Nobility of Rome.

Corio. Come leaue your teares: a brief farwel: the beast With many heads butts me away. Nay Mother, Where is your ancient Courage? You were vs'd To say, Extreamities was the trier of spirits, That common chances. Common men could beare, That when the Sea was calme, all Boats alike Shew'd Mastership in floating. Fortunes blowes, When most strooke home, being gentle wounded, craues A Noble cunning. You were vs'd to load me With Precepts that would make inuincible The heart that conn'd them

Virg. Oh heauens! O heauens! Corio. Nay, I prythee woman

Vol. Now the Red Pestilence strike al Trades in Rome, And Occupations perish

Corio. What, what, what: I shall be lou'd when I am lack'd. Nay Mother, Resume that Spirit, when you were wont to say, If you had beene the Wife of Hercules, Six of his Labours youl'd haue done, and sau'd Your Husband so much swet. Cominius, Droope not, Adieu: Farewell my Wife, my Mother, Ile do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius, Thy teares are salter then a yonger mans, And venomous to thine eyes. My (sometime) Generall, I haue seene the Sterne, and thou hast oft beheld Heart-hardning spectacles. Tell these sad women, Tis fond to waile ineuitable strokes, As 'tis to laugh at 'em. My Mother, you wot well My hazards still haue beene your solace, and Beleeu't not lightly, though I go alone Like to a lonely Dragon, that his Fenne Makes fear'd, and talk'd of more then seene: your Sonne Will or exceed the Common, or be caught With cautelous baits and practice

Volum. My first sonne, Whether will thou go? Take good Cominius With thee awhile: Determine on some course More then a wilde exposture, to each chance That starts i'th' way before thee

Corio. O the Gods! Com. Ile follow thee a Moneth, deuise with thee Where thou shalt rest, that thou may'st heare of vs, And we of thee. So if the time thrust forth A cause for thy Repeale, we shall not send O're the vast world, to seeke a single man, And loose aduantage, which doth euer coole Ith' absence of the needer

Corio. Fare ye well: Thou hast yeares vpon thee, and thou art too full Of the warres surfets, to go roue with one That's yet vnbruis'd: bring me but out at gate. Come my sweet wife, my deerest Mother, and My Friends of Noble touch: when I am forth, Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you come: While I remaine aboue the ground, you shall Heare from me still, and neuer of me ought But what is like me formerly

Menen. That's worthily As any eare can heare. Come, let's not weepe, If I could shake off but one seuen yeeres From these old armes and legges, by the good Gods I'ld with thee, euery foot

Corio. Giue me thy hand, come.


Enter the two Tribunes, Sicinius, and Brutus, with the Edile.

Sicin. Bid them all home, he's gone: & wee'l no further, The Nobility are vexed, whom we see haue sided In his behalfe

Brut. Now we haue shewne our power, Let vs seeme humbler after it is done, Then when it was a dooing

Sicin. Bid them home: say their great enemy is gone, And they, stand in their ancient strength

Brut. Dismisse them home. Here comes his Mother. Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Menenius.

Sicin. Let's not meet her

Brut. Why? Sicin. They say she's mad

Brut. They haue tane note of vs: keepe on your way

Volum. Oh y'are well met: Th' hoorded plague a'th' Gods requit your loue

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

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