Shakespeare's First Folio Part 467

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 n.o.ble, 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 G.o.ds forbid: I prythee n.o.ble 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. Coriola.n.u.s and Cominius.

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

Mene. His nature is too n.o.ble 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

1 Cit. He shall well know the n.o.ble Tribunes are The peoples mouths, and we their hands

All. He shall sure ont

Mene. Sir, sir

Sicin. Peace

Me. Do not cry hauocke, where you shold but hunt With modest warrant

Sicin. Sir, how com'st that you haue holpe To make this rescue?

Mene. Heere me speake? As I do know The Consuls worthinesse, so can I name his Faults

Sicin. Consull? what Consull?

Mene. The Consull Coriola.n.u.s

Bru. He Consull

All. No, no, no, no, no

Mene. If by the Tribunes leaue, And yours good people, I may be heard, I would craue a word or two, The which shall turne you to no further harme, Then so much losse of time

Sic. Speake breefely then, For we are peremptory to dispatch This Viporous Traitor: to eiect him hence Were but one danger, and to keepe him heere Our certaine death: therefore it is decreed, He dyes to night

Menen. Now the good G.o.ds forbid, That our renowned Rome, whose grat.i.tude Towards her deserued Children, is enroll'd In Ioues owne Booke, like an vnnaturall Dam Should now eate vp her owne

Sicin. He's a Disease that must be cut away

Mene. Oh he's a Limbe, that ha's but a Disease Mortall, to cut it off: to cure it, easie.

What ha's he done to Rome, that's worthy death?

Killing our Enemies, the blood he hath lost (Which I dare vouch, is more then that he hath By many an Ounce) he dropp'd it for his Country: And what is left, to loose it by his Countrey, Were to vs all that doo't, and suffer it A brand to th' end a'th World

Sicin. This is cleane kamme