Cor. Speak, I hear thee. Auf. I need not tell thee, that I have performed It still may be in danger from our arms: Retire: I will take care thou may'st with safety. Cor. With safety ?—Heavens !—and thinkest thou Coriolanus Will stoop to thee for safety ?-No! my safeguard Is in myself, a bosom void of fear. Oh, 'tis an act of cowardice and baseness, To seize the very time my hands are fettered Auf. Thou speak'st the truth: it had not. If you will bless me, grant it! Know, for that- Thou shouldst return: I pray thee, Marcius, do it! And we shall meet again on nobler terms. Cor. "Till I have cleared my honour in your council, 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 curs'd forest, where these Roman wolves Haunt and infest their nobler neighbours round them; A false, perfidious people, who, beneath 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, 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. 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 Oorioli? You lords, and heads o' the state, perfidiously Cor. Hear'st thou, Mars? Auf. Name not the god, thou boy of tears. That, like an eagle in a dove-cot, 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, Cor. Oh, that I had thee in the field, With six Aufidiuses, or more,―thy tribe,— VI.-WOLSEY AND CROMWELL.-Shakspeare. Wolsey. Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness!This is the state of man;-to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him: The third day comes a frost, a killing frost; And-when he thinks, good easy man! full surely His greatness is a-ripening-nips his root, And then he falls as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, These many summers in a sea of gloryBut far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me-and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Enter CROMWELL. Wol. Why, how now, Cromwell? Crom. I have no power to speak, sir. Wol. What! amazed At my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonder Crom. How does your grace? Wol. Why, well; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities A still and quiet conscience. Crom. I'm glad your grace has made that right use of it. Out of a fortitude of soul I feel, To endure more miseries and greater far, Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer, What news abroad? Crom. The heaviest and the worst Is your displeasure with the king. Wol. God bless him! Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord Chancellor in your place. Wol. That's somewhat sudden : But he's a learned man. May he continue For truth's sake and his conscience', that his bones, Crom. That Cranmer is returned with welcome, Wol. That's news indeed! Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne, Whom the king hath in secrecy long married, This day was viewed in open as his queen, Going to chapel: and the voice is now Only about her coronation. Wol. There was the weight that pulled me down!-O Cromwell! The king has gone beyond me; all my glories, In that one woman, I have lost for ever: No sun shall ever usher forth my honours, Or gild again the noble troops that waited On my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell; To be thy lord and master: Seek the king: I have told him What and how true thou art; he will advance thes (I know his noble nature) not to let Thy hopeful service perish too :-go, Cromwell! Must I then leave you? Must I needs forego Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention To silence envious tongues. Be just and fear not: There take an inventory of all I have; To the last penny-'tis the king's :-my robe, I dare now call mine own.-O Cromwell, Cromwell! Crom. Good sir, have patience. Wol. So I have.-Farewell The hopes of Court! My hopes in Heaven do dwell. VII. -SCENE FROM VENICE PRESERVED. Otway. UKE, seated, with Senators on each side. PIERRE, in chains; ot Conspirators in chains, near him.] Pier. You, my lords, and fathers (As you are pleased to call yourselves) of Venice; On those that bring you conquest home, and honours? Pier. Are these the trophies I have deserved for fighting Your battles with confederated powers? When winds and seas conspired to overthrow you, Produce my charge; or show the wretch that's base Pier. Yes, and know his virtue.— His justice, truth, his general worth, and sufferings Enter JAFFIER (in chains). Pier. My friend too bound! Nay, then, Our fate has conquered us, and we must fall. Why droops the man, whose welfare's so much mine They're but one thing? These reverend tyrants, Jaffier, Jaff. To thee I am the falsest, veriest slave, That e'er betrayed a generous, trusting friend, And gave up honour to be sure of ruin. All our fair hopes, which morning was to have crowned, Pier. So then, all's over: Venice has lost her freedom, I my life. No more! Duke. Say; will you make confession Of your vile deeds, and trust the senate's mercy? The curse of growing factions and divisions Still vex your councils, shake your public safety, Pier. Death! honourable death! |