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Cor. Till I have cleared my honour in your council,
And proved before them all, to thy confusion
The falsehood of thy charge; as soon in battle
I would before thee fly, and howl for mercy,
As quit the station they've assigned me here.

Auf. Thou canst not hope acquittal from the Volscians. Cor. I do:-Nay, more, expect their approbation, Their thanks. I will obtain them such a peace

As thou durst never ask; a perfect union

Of their whole nation with imperial Rome,
In all her privileges, all her rights;

By the just gods, I will.—What wouldst thou more?
Auf. What would I more, proud Roman ? This I

would

Fire the cursed forest, where these Roman wolves
Haunt and infest their nobler neighbours round them;
Extirpate from the bosom of this land

A false, perfidious people, who, beneath
The mask of freedom, are a combination
Against the liberty of human kind;

The genuine seed of outlaws and of robbers.

Cor. The seed of gods.-'Tis not for thee, vain boaster,—

'Tis not for such as thou-so often spared

By her victorious sword, to speak of Rome,
But with respect, and awful veneration.—
Whate'er her blots, whate'er her giddy factions
There is more virtue in one single year

Of Roman story, than your Volscian annals

Can boast through all their creeping, dark duration.

Auf. I thank thy rage :-This full displays the traitor. [Cor. Traitor!

How now?

Auf. Ay, traitor, Marcius.

Cor. Marcius!

Auf. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius: dost thou think
I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stolen name,
Coriolanus, in Corioli?

You lords, and heads of the state, perfidiously
He has betrayed your business, and given up,
For certain drops of salt, your city Rome,-
I say, your city,-to his wife and mother;
Breaking his oath and resolution like

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A twist of rotten silk; never admitting
Counsel of the war: but at his nurse's tears
He whined and roared away your victory;
That pages blushed at him, and men of heart
Looked wondering at each other.

Cor. Hearest thou, Mars?

Auf. Name not the god, thou boy of tears.
Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart
Too great for what contains it. Boy!

O slave!

Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and lads,
Stain all your edges on me. Boy! False hound!
you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
That, like an eagle in a dove-cot, I

If

Fluttered your Volscians in Corioli,
Alone I did it. Boy!]-But let us part;
Lest my rash hand should do a hasty deed
My cooler thought forbids.

Auf. I court

The worst thy sword can do; while thou from me
Hast nothing to expect but sore destruction;

Quit then this hostile camp: once more I tell thee,
Thou art not here one single hour in safety.

[Cor. O that I had thee in the field, With six Aufidiuses, or more, thy tribe,

To use my lawful sword!]

THOMSON.

The two passages in the above scene enclosed between brackets [] are extracted from Shakespere's " Coriolanus."

EDWARD AND WARWICK.-EARL OF WARWICK,

Edw. Let me have no intruders; above all,

Keep Warwick from my sight.

Enter WARWICK.

War. Behold him here;

No welcome guest, it seems, unless I ask

My Lord of Suffolk's leave. There was a time
When Warwick wanted not his aid to gain

Admission here.

Edw. There was a time, perhaps,

When Warwick more desired, and more deserved it.

War. Never: I've been a foolish faithful slave;
All my best years, the morning of my life,
Hath been devoted to your service: what
Are now the fruits? Disgrace and infamy!
My spotless name, which never yet the breath
Of calumny had tainted, made the mock
For foreign fools to carp at: but 'tis fit
Who trust in princes, should be thus rewarded.
Edw. I thought, my lord, I had full well repaid
Your services with honours, wealth, and power
Unlimited; thy all-directing hand

Guided in secret every latent wheel

Of government, and moved the whole machine :
Warwick was all in all, and powerless Edward
Stood like a cipher in the great account.

War. Who gave that cipher worth, and seated thee
On England's throne? Thy undistinguished name
Had rotted in the dust from whence it sprang
And mouldered in oblivion, had not Warwick
Dug from its sordid mine the useless ore,
And stamped it with a diadem. Thou know'st
This wretched country, doom'd, perhaps, like Rome,
To fall by its own self-destroying hand,
Tost for so many years in the rough sea
Of civil discord, but for me had perished.
In that distressful hour I seized the helm,

Bade the rough waves subside in peace, and steered
Your shattered vessel safe into the harbour.
You may despise, perhaps, that useless aid

Which you no longer want; but know, proud youth,
He who forgets a friend deserves a foe.

Edw. Know too, reproach for benefits received
Pays every debt, and cancels obligation.

War. Why, that indeed is frugal honesty ;

A thrifty saving knowledge; when the debt

Grows burdensome, and cannot be discharged,

A sponge will wipe out all and cost you nothing.

Edw. When you have counted o'er the numerous train

Of mighty gifts your bounty lavished on me,

You may remember next the injuries

Which I have done you: let me know them all,

And I will make you ample satisfaction.

War. Thou can'st not: thou hast robbed me of a jewel,

It is not in thy power to restore :

I was the first, shall future annals say,

That broke the sacred bond of public trust
And mutual confidence; ambassadors,
In after times, mere instruments, perhaps,
Of venal statesmen, shall recall my name
To witness, that they want not an example,
And plead my guilt, to sanctify their own.
Amidst the herd of mercenary slaves

That haunt your court, could none be found but Warwick,
To be the shameless herald of a lie?

Edw. And wouldst thou turn the vile reproach on me?
If I have broke my faith, and stained the name
Of England, thank thy own pernicious counsels
That urged me to it, and extorted from me
A cold consent to what my heart abhorred.

War. I have been abused, insulted, and betrayed;
My injured honour cries aloud for vengeance,
Her wounds will never close!

Edw. These gusts of passion

Will but inflame them: if I have been right
Informed, my lord, besides these dangerous scars
Of bleeding honour, you have other wounds
As deep, though not so fatal; such, perhaps,
As none but fair Elizabeth can cure.
War. Elizabeth!

Edw. Nay, start not; I have cause
To wonder most; I little thought, indeed,
When Warwick told me I might learn to love,
He was himself so able to instruct me:
But I've discovered all-

War. And so have I;

Too well I know thy breach of friendship here,
Thy fruitless base endeavours to supplant me.

Edw. I scorn it, sir.-Elizabeth hath charms,
And I have equal right with you to admire them :
Nor see I aught so god-like in the form,
So all-commanding, in the name of Warwick,
That he alone should revel in the charms

Of beauty, and monopolize perfection.
I knew not of your love.

War. By heaven, 'tis false !

You knew it all, and meanly took occasion,
Whilst I was busied in the noble office,
Your grace thought fit to honour me withal,
To tamper with a weak unguarded woman,
To bribe her passions high, and basely steal
A treasure which your kingdom could not purchase.
Edw. How knew you that?
But be it as it may,

I had a right: nor will I tamely yield

My claim to happiness, the privilege

To choose the partner of my throne and bed;

It is a branch of my prerogative

War. Prerogative! what's that? the boast of tyrants; A borrowed jewel, glittering in the crown,

With specious lustre, lent but to betray:

You had it, sir, and hold it—from the people.-
Edw. And therefore do I prize it; I would guard
Their liberties, and they shall strengthen mine;
But when proud Faction, and her rebel crew,
Insult their sovereign, trample on his laws,
And bid defiance to his power, the people,
In justice to themselves, will then defend
His cause, and vindicate the rights they gave.

War. Go to your darling people then; for soon,

If I mistake not, 't will be needful; try

Their boasted zeal, and see if one of them

Will dare to lift up his arm in your cause,
If I forbid them.

Edw. Is it so, my lord?

Then mark my words: I've been your slave too long,
And you have ruled me with a rod of iron.

But henceforth know, proud peer, I am thy master,
And will be so; the king who delegates

His power to others' hands, but ill deserves
The crown he wears.

War. Look well then to your own ;

It sits but loosely on your head; for know,
The man who injured Warwick, never passed
Unpunished yet..

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