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Men. Down with that sword;—Tribunes, with
draw a-while. Bru. Lay hands
Help! help Marcius! help, You that be noble; help him, young, and old! Cit. Down with him, down with him!
[In this mutiny, the Tribunes, the Ædiles,
and the people, are beat in. Men. Go, get you to your house; be gone, away, All will be naught else. 2 Sen.
Get you gone. Cor.
Stand fast; We have as many friends as enemies.
Men. Shall it be put to that? 1 Sen.
The gods forbid! I pr’ythee, noble friend, home to thy house; Leave us to cure this cause. Men.
For 'tis a sore upon us, You cannot tent yourself: Begone, ’beseech you.
Com. Come, sir, along with us.
Cor. I would they were barbarians, (as they are, Though in Rome litter'd,) not Romans, (as they
On fair ground,
I could myself
Com. But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetick;
Pray you, be gone:
Nay, come away. [E.reunt Coriolanus, Cominius, and Others. 1 Pat. This man has marr'd his fortune.
Men. His nature is too noble for the world: He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Or Jove for his power to thunder. His heart's his
mouth: What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent; And, being angry, does forget that ever He heard the name of death. [A noise within. Here's goodly work! 2 Pat.
I would they were a-bed! Men. I would they were in Tiber!—What, the
vengeance, Could he not speak them fair?
Re-enter Brutus and Sicinius, with the rabble.
Where is this viper,
You worthy tribunes, –
With rigorous hands; he hath resisted law,
He shall well know,
He shall, sure on't.
[Several speak together. Men. Sic.
Peace. Men. Do not cry, havock, where you should but
you Have holp to make this rescue? Men.
Hear me speak:
He a consul! Cit. No, no, no, no, no. Men. If, by the tribunes' leave, and yours, good
be heard, I'd crave a word or two;
Speak briefly then;
Our certain death; therefore, it is decreed,
Now the good gods forbid,
Sic. He's a disease, that must be cut away.
Men. O, he's a limb, that has but a disease; Mortal, to cut it off; to cure it, easy. What has he done to Rome, that's worthy death? Killing our enemies? The blood he hath lost, (Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he hath, By many an ounce,) he dropp'd it for his country: And, what is left, to lose it by his country, Were to us all, that do't, and suffer it, A brand to the end o' the world. Sic.
This is clean kam. Bru. Merely awry: When he did love his coun
The service of the foot
We'll hear no more:
One word more, one word.
Lest parties (as he is beloved) break out,
If it were so, Sic. What do
talk? Have we not had a taste of his obedience? Our ædiles smote? ourselves resisted? —Come:Men. Consider this;—He has been bred i’ the
wars Since he could draw a sword, and is ill school'd In boulted language; meal and bran together He throws without distinction. Give me leave, I'll
go to him, and undertake to bring him
Go not home.
Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed
I'll bring him to you:
must come, Or what is worst will follow. 1 Sen.
Pray you, let's to him.