3 Serv. Do't! he will do 't; for, (look you, Sir,) he has as many friends as enemies; which friends, Sir, (as it were,) durst not (look you, Sir,) show themselves (as we term it) his friends, whilst he 's in directitude.

3 Serv. But when they shall see, Sir, his crest up again, and the man in blood, they will out of their burrows, like conies after rain, and revel all with him.

1 Serv. But when goes this forward?

3 Serv. To-morrow; to-day; presently. You shall have the drum struck up this afternoon: 't is, as it were, a parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips.

2 Serv. Why, then we shall have a stirring world again. This peace is nothing, but to rust iron, increase tailors, and breed ballad-makers.

1 Serv. Let me have war, say I: it exceeds peace, as far as day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more bastard children, than wars a destroyer of men. 2 Serv. 'T is so: and as wars, in some sort, may be said to be a ravisher, so it cannot be denied, but peace is a great maker of cuckolds.

1 Serv. Ay, and it makes men hate one another.

3 Serv. Reason; because they then less need one another. The wars, for my money. I hope to see Romans as cheap as Volscians. They are rising, they are rising.

All. In, in, in, in.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

Rome. A Public Place.

Enter SICINIUS and BRUtus.

Sic. We hear not of him, neither need we fear him;
His remedies are tame i' the present peace

And quietness o' the people, which before
Were in wild hurry. Here do we make his friends
-Blush that the world goes well; who rather had,
Though they themselves did suffer by 't, behold

Dissensious numbers pestering streets, than see
Our tradesmen singing in their shops, and going
About their functions friendly.

Enter MENENius.

Bru. We stood to 't in good time. Is this Menenius?
Sic. 'T is he, 't is he. O! he is grown most kind

Sic. Your Coriolanus is not much miss'd,

But with his friends: the common-wealth doth stand,

And so would do, were he more angry at it.

Men. All's well; and might have been much better, if

He could have temporiz'd.

Sic.

Where is he, hear you?

Men. Nay, I hear nothing: his mother and his wife Hear nothing from him.

Enter three or four Citizens.

Good-den, our neighbours.

Cit. The gods preserve you both!

Sic.

Bru. Good-den to you all, good-den to you all.

1 Cit. Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our knees,

Are bound to pray for you both.

Sic.

Bru. Farewell, kind neighbours. Had lov'd you as we did.

Cit.

Live, and thrive!

We wish'd Coriolanus

Now the gods keep you!

[Exeunt Citizens.

Both Tri. Farewell, farewell.

Sic. This is a happier and more comely time, Than when these fellows ran about the streets,

Crying confusion.

A worthy officer i' the war; but insolent,

O'ercome with pride, ambitious past all thinking,

Self-loving,

And affecting one sole throne,

Sic.

Without assistance.

Sic. We should by this, to all our lamentation, If he had gone forth consul, found it so.

Bru. The gods have well prevented it; and Rome Sits safe and still without him.

Ed.

Enter an Edile.

Worthy tribunes,

There is a slave, whom we have put in prison,
Reports, the Volsces with two several powers
Are enter'd in the Roman territories;

And with the deepest malice of the war
Destroy what lies before them.

Men.

"T is Aufidius,

Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishment,
Thrusts forth his horns again into the world;

Which were inshell'd when Marcius stood for Rome,
And durst not once peep out.

Sic.

Of Marcius?

Come, what talk you

Bru. Go see this rumourer whipp'd. It cannot be; The Volsces dare break with us.

We have record that very well it can ;
And three examples of the like have been
Within my age. But reason with the fellow,
Before you punish him, where he heard this;
Lest you shall chance to whip your information,
And beat the messenger who bids beware

Of what is to be dreaded.

Mess. The nobles in great earnestness are going
All to the senate house: some news is come in,
That turns their countenances.

Sic.

"T is this slave.

Go whip him 'fore the people's eyes:— his raising!
Nothing but his report!

Mess. It is spoke freely out of many mouths,
How probable I'do not know, that Marcius,
Join'd with Aufidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome,
And vows revenge as spacious, as between

The young'st and oldest thing.

Sic.

This is most likely!

Bru. Rais'd only, that the weaker sort may wish

Good Marcius home again.

Sic.

Men. This is unlikely:

The very trick on 't.

He and Aufidius can no more atone,

Than violentest contrariety.

Enter another Messenger.

Mess. You are sent for to the senate.

A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius,
Associated with Aufidius, rages

Upon our territories; and have already

O'erborne their way, consum'd with fire, and took
What lay before them.

Enter COMINIUS.

Com. O! you have made good work.

Men.

What news? what news?

Com. You have holp to ravish your own daughters,

To melt the city leads upon your pates;

To see your wives dishonour'd to your noses;

Men. What's the news? what's the news?

Com. Your temples burned in their cement; and
Your franchises, whereon you stood, confin'd
Into an auger 's bore.

and

Pray, your news?

You have made fair work, I fear me.
If Marcius should be join'd with Volscians,

Com.

He is their god: he leads them like a thing
Made by some other deity than nature,
That shapes man better; and they follow him
Against us brats, with no less confidence
Than boys pursuing summer butterflies,
Or butchers killing flies.

Men.

If!

You have made good work,

You, and your apron-men; you that stood so much
Upon the voice of occupation, and

The breath of garlic-eaters!

You have made fair work.

Sir?

Ay; and you'll look pale

Did shake down mellow fruit.

Bru. But is this true,
Com.

Before you find it other. All the regions

Do smilingly revolt, and who resist

Are mock'd for valiant ignorance,

And perish constant fools. Who is 't can blame him?
Your enemies, and his, find something in him.

Men. We are all undone, unless

The noble man have mercy.

The tribunes cannot do 't for shame; the people
Deserve such pity of him, as the wolf

Does of the shepherds: for his best friends, if they
Should say,

"Be good to Rome," they charg'd him, even As those should do that had deserv'd his hate,

And therein show'd like enemies.

If he were putting to my house the brand
That should consume it, I have not the face