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I was forc'd to scold. Your judgements, my grave
lords, Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion (Who wears my stripes impress'd on him; that must
bear My beating to his grave;) shall join to thrust The lie unto him.
1 Lord. Peace, both, and hear me speak.
Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volces ; men and lads,
Why, noble lords,
(Several speak at once. Cit. [ Speaking promiscuously. ] Tear him to pieces, do it presently. He killed my son ;- my daughter;-He killed my cousin Marcus ;-He kill. ed my father,
2 Lord. Peace, ho ;-90 outrage ;-peace. The man is noble, and bis fame folds in This orb o'the earth. His last offence to us Shall have judicioust hearing.--Stand, Aufidius, And trouble not the peace. Cor.
O, that I had him, With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, To use my lawful sword! Auf
Insolent villain! Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him. [Aufidius and the Conspirators draw, and
kill Coriolanus, who falls, and Aufidius stands on him.
• His fame overspreads the world.
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 weep. 3 Lord. Tread not upon him.-Masters all, be
quiet; Put 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,
His own impatience
My rage is gone,
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 dig. nity in Volumpia; the bridal modesty in Virgilia ; the patrician and military haughtiness in Coriolanus; the plebeian malignity and tribunitian inso. lence 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.
END OF VOL. VI.
Printed by S. Hamilton, Weybridge.