Auf.

There was it;

For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him.
At a few drops of women's rheum, which are
As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour
Of our great action: therefore shall he die,
And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark!

[Drums and Trumpets sound, with great Shouts of
the People.

1 Con. Your native town you enter'd like a post,

And had no welcomes home; but he returns,

Splitting the air with noise.

2 Con.

And patient fools,

Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear

With giving him glory.

3 Con.

Therefore, at your vantage,

Ere he express himself, or move the people
With what he would say, let him feel your sword,
Which we will second. When he lies along,
After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury

His reasons with his body.

Enter the Lords of the City.

Lords. You are most welcome home.
Auf.

I have not deserv'd it.

But, worthy lords, have you with heed perus'd

What I have written to you?

Lords.

1 Lord.

We have.

And grieve to hear it.

What faults he made before the last, I think,
Might have found easy fines; but there to end,
Where he was to begin, and give away
The benefit of our levies, answering us
With our own charge, making a treaty where
There was a yielding; this admits no excuse.

Auf. He approaches: you shall hear him.

Enter CORIOLANUS, with Drums and Colours; a Crowd of

Citizens with him.

Cor. Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier;
No more infected with my country's love,
Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting
Under your great command. You are to know,
That prosperously I have attempted, and
With bloody passage led your wars, even to
The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home,
Do more than counterpoise, a full third part,
The charges of the action. We have made peace,
With no less honour to the Antiates,

Than shame to the Romans; and we here deliver,

Subscrib'd by the consuls and patricians,

Together with the seal o' the senate, what

We have compounded on.

Auf. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius. Dost thou think
I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name
Coriolanus in Corioly? -

You lords and heads of the state, perfidiously
He has betray'd your business, and given up
For certain drops of salt your city, Rome,
I say your city, to his wife and mother;
Breaking his oath and resolution, like
A twist of rotten silk; never admitting
Counsel o' the war, but at his nurse's tears
He whin'd and roar'd away your victory,
That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart
Look'd wondering each at other.

Cor.

Hear'st thou, Mars?

Auf. Name not the god, thou boy of tears.

Cor.

Auf. No more.

Ha!

Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart

Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave!

Pardon me, lords, 't is the first time that ever

I was forc'd to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords,

Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion
(Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him, that

Must bear my beating to his grave) shall join

To thrust the lie unto him.

1 Lord.

Peace both, and hear me speak.

Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and lads, Stain all your edges on me. - Boy! False hound! If you have writ your annals true, 't is there,

That like an eagle in a dove-cote, I

Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli:

Alone I did it.

Auf.

Boy!

Why, noble lords,

Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune,
Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart,

'Fore your own eyes and ears?

All Con. Let him die for 't.

All People. Tear him to pieces; do it presently. He killed

The man is noble, and his fame folds in
This orb o' the earth. His last offences to us

peace!

Shall have judicious hearing. - Stand, Aufidius,

And trouble not the peace.

Cor.

O! that I had him,

With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe,
To use my lawful sword!

Auf.

Insolent villain!

All Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him!

[AUFIDIUS and the Conspirators draw, and kill CORIOLANUS, who falls: AUFIDIUS stands on him.

Lords.

Hold, hold, hold, hold!

Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak.
1 Lord.
O Tullus!
2 Lord. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep.
3 Lord. Tread not upon him. - Masters all, be quiet. -
Put up your swords.

Auf. My lords, when you shall know (as in this rage,
Provok'd by him, you cannot) the great danger
Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice
That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours
To call me to your senate, I'll deliver
Myself your loyal servant, or endure

Your heaviest censure.

1 Lord.

Bear from hence his body,

And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded,

As the most noble corse that ever herald

Did follow to his urn. 2 Lord.

His own impatience

- Take him up:

And I am struck with sorrow.

Help, three o' the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.

Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully;

Trail your steel pikes. - Though in this city he

Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one,

Which to this hour bewail the injury,

Yet he shall have a noble memory.

Assist.

[Exeunt, bearing the Body of CORIOLANUS.

A dead March sounded.