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Intends to appear before the people, hoping Auf. Say no more;
To purge himself with words: despatch.

Here come the lords.
[exeunt Attendants.

Enter the Lords of the city. Enter three or four Conspirators of Aufidius' faction. Lords. You are most welcome home. Most welcome!

Auf. I have not deserv'd it; 1 Con. How is it with our general ?

But, worthy lords, have you with heed perus'd Luf. Even so,

What I have written to you? As with a man by his own alms empoison'd,

Lords. We have. And with his charity slain.

1 Lord. And grieve to hear it. 2 Con. Most noble sir, simile

What faults he made before the last, I think, If you do hold the same intent, wherein

Might have found easy fines: but there to end, You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you

Where he was to begin; and give away Of your great danger.

The benefit of our levies, answering us Auf. Sir, I cannot tell; 4.1.11

With our own charge; making a treaty, where We must proceed, as we do find the people. :? There was a yielding; this admits no excuse.

3 Con. The people will remain uncertain, whilst Auf. He approaches, you shall hear him. 'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either Enter Coriolanus, with drums and colours; a crowd Makes the survivor heir of all. Web

of Citizens with him. Auf. I know it;

Cor. Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier; And my pretext to strike at him admits

No more infected with my country's love, A good construction. I rais’d'him, and I pawnd Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting Mine honour for his truth: who being so heightend, Under your great command. You are to know, He water'd his new plants with dews of Hattery, That prosperously I have attempted, and Seducing so my friends: and, to this end, 1 mag With bloody passage led your wars, even to He bow'd his nature, never known before baise The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought But to be rough, unswayable, and free.

home, 3 Con. Sir, his stoutness,

Do more than counterpoise, a full third part, When he did stand for consul, which he lost The charges of the action. We have made peace, By lack of stooping,–

With no less honour to the Antiates, Auf. That I would have spoke of : 1

Than shame to the Romans: and we here deliver, Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth; Subscrib'd by the consuls and patricians, Presented to my knife his throat: I took him; Together with the seal o'the senate, what Made him joint servant with me; gave bim way We have compounded on. In all his own desires; nay, let him choose

Auf. Read it not, noble lords;
Out of my files, his projects to accomplish,

But tell the traitor, in the highest degree
My best and freshest men; serv'd his designments He bath abus'd your powers.
In mine own person; holp to reap the fame,

Cor. Traitor!-how now?-
Which he did end all his; and took some pride Auf. Ay, traitor, Marcius.
To do myself this wrong; till, at the last,

Cor. Marcius! I seem'd his follower, not partner; and

Auf. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius; dost not think He wag'd me with his countenance, as if I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name, I had been mercenary.

Coriolanus in Corioli? 1 Con. So he did, my lord:

You, lords and heads of the state, perfidiously The army marvell’d at it. And, in the last, He has botray'd your business, and given up When he had carried Come; and that we look'd For certain drops of salt, your city Rome For no less spoil, than glory,–

(I say, your city), to his wife and mother: Auf. There was it;

Breaking his oath and resolution, like For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him. A twist of rotten silk; never admitting At a few drops of women's rheum, wbich are Counsel o'the war; but at his nurse's tears As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour He whind and roar'd away your victory; Of our great action; therefore shall he dic, That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark! Look'd wondering at each other. [drums and trumpets sound, with great shouts of Cor. Hear'st thou, Mars? the people.

Auf. Name not the god, thou boy of tears,1 Con. Your native town you enter'd like a post, Cor. Ha! And had no welcomes home; but he returns, Auf. No more. Splitting the air with noise.

Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart 2 Con. And patient fools,

Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave!— Whose children he hath slain, their base throats Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever With giving him glory.

(tear, I was foro'd to scold. Your judgements, my grave 3 Con. Therefore, at your vantage,

lords, Ere he express himself, or move the people Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion With what he would say, let him feel your sword,(Who wears my stripes impressid on him; that Which we will second. When he lies along,

must bear After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury My beating to his grave;) shall join to thrist His reasons with his body,

The lic unto him,

wil weep.

1 Lord. Peace, both, and hear me speak.

2 Lord. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volces; men and lads, Stain all your edges on me.Boy! False hound! 3 Lord. Tread not upon him.-Masters all, be If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,

quiet; That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I

Put up your swords. Flutter'd your Volces in Corioli:

Auf. My lords, when you shall know (as in this Alone I did it.—Boy!

(

rage, Auf. Why, noble lords,

Provok'd by him, you cannot,) the great danger Will

you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, That he is thus cut off. Please it your benours 'Fore your own eyes and ears?

To call me to your senate, I'll deliver Con. Let him die for't. (several speak once. Myself your loyal servant, or endure

Cit. [speaking promiscuously.]Tear him to pieces, do it presently. He killed my son ;—my daughter;

1 Lord. Beare from hence his biod

body he killed my cousin Marcus;--he killed my father.- And mourn you for him: let him be regarded

2 Lord. Peace, ho:—no outrage ;-peace. As the most noble corse, that ever herald The man is noble, and his fame folds in

Did follow to his urn. This orb o'the earth. His last offence to us

2 Lord. His own impatience Shall have judicious hearing. --Stand, Aufidius, Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame. And trouble not the peace.

Let's make the best of it. Cor. O, that I had him,

Auf. My rage is gone,

El With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe,

And I am struck with sorrow.—Take him up:To use my lawful sword!

Help, three o'the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.— Auf. Insolent villain!

Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully: Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.

Trail your steel pikes.— Though in this city he (Aufidius and the Conspirators draw, and kill Cori- Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one,

olanus, who falls, and Aufidius stands on him. Which to this hour bewail the injury, Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold.

Yet he shall have a noble memory. Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak. Assist.

[exeunt, bearing the body of Coriol : 12 1 Lord. O Tullus, ; KÉBENS

a dead march sounded. 5:

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MERCHANT OF VENICE.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

Prince of Apraca; } suitors to Portia.

Duke of Venice.

| Old Gobbo, father to Launcelot. ,

Salerio, a messenger from Venice.

Leonardo, servant to Bassanio.
Antonio, the Merchant of Venice.
Bassanio, his friend.

Stephano,;} servants to Portia.
Salanio,
Salarino, friends to Antonio and Bassanio.

Portia, a rich heiress.
Gratiano,

Nerissa, her waiting maid.
Lorenzo, in love with Jessica.

Jessica, daughter to Shylock.
Shylock, a Jew.
Tubal, a Jew, his friend.

Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the court of justice, Launcelot Gobbo, a clown, servant to Shylock.

Jailer, Servants, and other Attendants.
SCENE,—partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the seat of Portia, on the Continent.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

VENICE.

A STREET.

! But, tell not me; I know, Antonio Enter Antonio, Salarino, and Salanio. Is sad to think upon his merchandise. Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad; Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, 1t wearies me; you say, it wearies you ;

My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, Upon the fortune of this present year • Tam to learn;

Therefore, my merchandise inakes ine not sad Aod such a want-wit sadness makes of me,

Salan. Why then you are in love. That I have much ado to know myself.

Ant. Fie, tie!

Care sad, Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean ;

Sulan. Not in love neither? Then let's say, you There, where your argosies with portly sail,- Because you are not merry; and 'twere as easy Like signiors and rich burghers of the flood, For you to laugh, and leap, and say, you are merry, Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,

Because you are not sad. Now,by two-headed Janus, Do overpeer the petty traffickers,

Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time: That curt'sy to them, do them reverence,

Some, that will evermore peep through their eyes, As they fly by them with their woven wings. And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper ;

Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, And other of such vinegar aspect, The better part of my affections would

That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind; Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano. Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and roads; Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble And every object that might make me fear

kinsman, Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,

Gratiano, and Lorenzo: fare you well; Would make me sad.

We leave you now with better company. Salar. My wind, cooling my broth,

Salar. I would liave staid till I had made you Would blow me to an ague, when I thought If worthier friends had not prevented me. (merry, What harm a wind too great might do at sea.

Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. I should not see the sandy hour-glass run, I take it, your own business calls on you, But I should think of shallows and of flats; And you embrace the occasion to depart. And sec my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand, Salar. Good morrow, my good lords. Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs,

Bass. Good signiors both, when shallwe laugh?To kiss her burial. Should I go to church,

Say, when? And see the holy edifice of stone,

You grow exceeding strange: must it be so ? And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks? Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. Which, touching but my gentle vessel's side,

(exeunt Salarino and Salanio. Would scatter all her spices on the stream;

Lor. My lord Bassanin, since you have found AnEnrobe the roaring waters with my silks; We two will leave you: but, at dinner time, (tonio, And, in a word, but even now worth this, I pray you, bave in mind where we must meet. And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought

Bass. I will not fail you. To think on this; and shall I lack the thought, Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio ; Thut such a thing, bcchanc'd, would make me sad? You have too much respect upon the world.

They lose it, that do buy it with much care. My purse, my person, my extremest means, Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd. Lie all unlock'd to your occasions.

Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one stage, where every man must play a part, I shot his fellow of the self-same flight

[shaft, And mine a sad one.

The self-same way, with more advised watch, Gra. Let me play the fool:

To find the other forth; and by advent'ring both, With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come;

I oft found both. I urge this childhood proof, And let my liver rather heat with wine,

Because what follows is

pure

innocence. Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth, Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, That which I owe is lost; but, if

you please Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?

To shoot another arrow that self way Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio, As I will watch the aim, or to find both, I love thee, and it is my love that speaks ;- Or bring your latter hazard back again, There are a sort of men, whose visages

And thankfully rest debtor for the first. [time, Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond; Ant. You know me well, and herein spend but And do a wilful stilness entertain,

To wind about my love with circumstance; With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion

And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong, Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;

In making question of my uttermost, As who should say, 'I am Sir Oracle,

Than if you had made waste of all I have: And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark !' Then do but say to me what I should do, 0, my Antonio, I do know of these,

That in your knowledge may by me be done, That therefore only are reputed wise,

And I am prest unto it: therefore, speak. For saying nothing ; who, I am very sure,

Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left, If they should speak, would almost damn those cars, And she is fair, and, fairer than that word, Which, hearing them, would call their brothers, Of wondrous virtues; sometimes from her eyes I'll tell thee more of this another time: [fools. I did receive fair speechless messages. But fish not, with this melancholy bait,

Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion.

To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia. Come, good Lorenzo :-fare ye well awhile; Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ; I'll end my exhortation after dinner.

For the four winds blow in from every coast Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner time: Renowned suitors; and her sunny locks I must be one of these same dumb wise men, Hang on her temples like a golden fleece; For Gratiano never lets me speak. (more, Which makes her seat of Belmont, Colchos' straud,

Gra. Well, keep me company but two years And many Jasons come in quest of her. Thou shalt not know the sound of thineown tongue. | 0, my Antonio, had I but the means

Ant. Farewell : I'll grow a talker for this gear. To hold a rival place with one of them, Gra. Thanks, i'faith; for silence is only com- I have a mind presages me such thrift, mendable

That I should questionless be fortunate. In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. Ant. Thou know'st, that all my fortunes are at

[excunt Gratiano and Lorenzo. Nor have I money, nor commodity Ant. Is that any thing now?

To raise a present sum; therefore, go forth, Bass. Gratiano speaks an intinite deal of nothing, Try what my credit can in Venice do ; more than any man in all Venice: his reasons are That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; | To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. you shall seek all day ere you find them; and, when Go, presently inquire, and so will I, you have them, they are not worth the search.

Where money is ; and I no question make, Ant. Well; tell me now, what lady is this same To have it of my trust, or for my sake. [creunt. To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,

BELMONT. A ROOM IN PORTIA's House. That you to-day promis'd to tell me of?

Enter Portia and Nerissa. Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is How much I have disabled mine estate,

il-weary of this great world. By something showing a more swelling port

Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your Than my faint means would grant continuance;

miseries were in the same abundance as your good Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd

fortunes are: and yet, for aught I sce, they are as From such a noble rate; but my chief care sick, that surfeit with too much, as they that starve Is, to come fairly off from the great debts, with nothing : it is no mean happiness, therefore, Wherein my time, something too prodigal, to be seated in the mean ; superfuity comes sooner Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio,

by white bairs, but competency lives longer. I owe the most, in money, and in love;

Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced. And from your love I have a warranty

Ner. They would be better, if well followed. To unburthen all my plots and purposes,

Por. If to do were as easy as to know what How to get clear of all the debts I owe.

were good to do, chapels had been churches, aud Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; poor men's cottages, princes' palaces. It is a good And, if it stand, as you yourself still do,

divine that follows his own instructions: I can Within the eye of honour, he assurd,

easier teach twenty what were good to be donea

[sea ;

SCENE II.

than be one of the twenty to follow mine own when he was able. I think the Frenchman beteaching. The brain may devise laws for the blood; came bis surety, and sealed under for another. uut a hot temper leaps over a cold decree : such a Ner. How like you the young German, the duke hare is madness, the youth, to skip o'er the meshes of Saxony's nephew? of good counsel, the cripple. But this reasoning Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is is not in the fashion to choose me a husband. 0 sober; and most vilely in the afternoon, when lie me, the word choose! I may neither choose whoin is drunk: when he is best, he is little worse than I would, nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the will a man; and when he is worst, he is little better of a living daughter curb’d by the will of a dead than a beast; and the worst fall that ever fell, I father. - Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot hope, I shall make shift to go without him. choose one, nor refuse none ?

Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose Ner. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy the right casket, you should refuse to perform your men, at their death, have good inspirations; there- father's will, if you should refuse to accept him. fore, the lottery, that he hath devised in these three Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray chests, of gold, silver, and lead, (whereof who thee, set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the conchooses his meaning, chooses you,) will, no doubt, trary casket: for, if the devil be within, and that never be chosen by any rightly, but one who you temptation without, I know he will choose it I shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I will be married your affection towards any of these princely suitors to a sponge. that are already come?

Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any Por. I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou of these lords; they have acquainted me with their namest them, I will describe them: and, according determinations: which is, indeed, to return to their to my description, level at my affection.

home, and to trouble you with no more suit, unNer. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. less you may be won by some other sort than your

Por. Ay, that's a colt, indeed, for he doth nothing father's imposition, depending on the caskets. but talk of his horse; and he makes it a great Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die appropriation to his own good parts, that he can as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the shoe him himself: I am much afraid, my lady manner of my father's will: I am glad this parcel his mother played false with a smith.

of wooers are so reasonable; for there is not ono Ner. Then, is there the county Palatine. among them but I dote on his very absence, and

Por. He doth nothing but frown; as who should I pray God grant them a fair departure. say, “An if you will not have me, choose :' he Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's hears merry tales, and smiles not. I fear, he will time, a Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, that came prove the weeping philosopher when he grows old, hither in company of the marquis of Moutferrat? being so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, so I had rather be married to a death's head with a was he called. bone in his mouth, than to either of these, God Ner. True, madam; he, of all the men that ever defend me from these two!

my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserv. Ner. How say you by the French lord, Mon- ing a fair lady. sieur Le Bon ?

Por. I remember him well; and I remember him Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass worthy of thy praise.—How now! what news? for a man. In truth, I know it is a siu to be a

Enter a servant. mocker: but, he! why, he hath a horse better than Serv. The four strangers seek for you, madam, the Neapolitan's; a better bad habit of frowning to take heir leave; and there is a fore-runner come than the count Palatine; he is every man in no from a fifth, the prince of Morocco; who brings man: if a throstle sing, he falls straight a capering; word, the prince, his master, will be here to-night. hc will fence with his own shadow: if I should Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so marry him, I should marry twenty husbands. If good heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I he would despise ine, I would forgive himn; for, should be glad of his approach: jf he have the conif he love me to madness, I shall never requite him. dition of a saint, and the complexion of a devil, I

Ner. What say you then to Faulconbridge, the had rather he should shrive me than wive me. young baron of England ?

Come, Nerissa.—Sirrah, go before. Whiles we Por. You know, I say nothing to him; for be shut the gate upon one wooer, another knocks at understands not me, nor I him : he hath neither the door.

[cxeunt. Latin, French, nor Italian; and you will come into

VENICE. the court and swear, that I have a poor penny

Enter Bassanio and Shylock. 5 worth in the English. He is a proper man's picture; Shy. Three thousand ducats,—well. but, alas! who can converse with a dumb show? Bass. Ay, sir, for three months. How oddly he is suited! I think he bought his Shy. For three months,— well. doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bon- Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio net in Germany, and his behaviour every where. shall be bound.

Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his Shy. Antonio shall become bound,— well. ncighbour?

Bass. May you stead me? Will you pleasure Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in Shall I know your answer?

[me? him; for he borrowed a box of the ear of the Shy. Three thousand ducats, for three months, Englishman, and swore he would pay him again, and Antonio bound.

SCENE III.

A PUBLIC PLACE.

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