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With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe,

To use my lawful sword!


Insolent villain!

Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.


[Aufidius and the Conspirators draw, and kill Coriolanus, who falls, and Aufidius stands

on him.

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


3 Lord. Tread not upon him.-Masters all, be quiet; 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
Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.
Let's make the best of it.

My rage
is . gone,
And I am struck with sorrow.-Take him up :-
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.-


[Exeunt, bearing the Body of Coriolanus. A dead March sounded.

The tragedy of Coriolanus is one of the most amusing of our author's performances. The old man's merriment in Menenius; the lofty lady's dignity in Volumnia; the bridal modesty in Virgilia; the patrician and military haughtiness in Coriolanus; the plebeian malignity and tribunitian insolence in Brutus and Sicinius, make a very pleasing and interesting variety; and the various revolutions of the hero's fortune, fill the mind with anxious curiosity. There is, perhaps, too much bustle in the first act, and too little in the last.


C. Whittingham, Printer, Chiswick.

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· Conspirators against Julius Cæsar.

Flavius and Marullus, Tribunes.
Artemidorus, a Sophist of Cnidos.
A Soothsayer.

Cinna, A Poet. Another Poet.

Lucilius, Titinius, Messala, young Cato, and Volumnius, Friends to Brutus and Cassius.

Varro, Clitus, Claudius, Strato, Lucius, Dardanius, Servants to Brutus.

Pindarus, Servant to Cassius.

Calphurnia, Wife to Cæsar.

Portia, Wife to Brutus.

Senators, Citizens, Guards, Attendants, &c.

SCENE, during a great part of the Play, at Rome: afterwards at Sardis; and near Philippi.

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SCENE I. ROME. A Street.

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Enter, FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and a Rabble of Citizens.
Flav. HENCE; home, you idle creatures, get you
Is this a holiday? What! know you not,
Being mechanical, you ought not walk,
Upon a labouring day, without the sign


Of your profession?-Speak, what trade art thou?
1 Cit. Why, sir, a carpenter.

Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule?,
What dost thou with thy best apparel on?+
You, sir; what, trade are you?

2 Cit. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobler.

Mar. But what trade art thou? Answer me directly. 2 Cit. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad spals. Mar. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?

2 Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

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