« PreviousContinue »
Tent* in my cheeks; and school-boys' tears take up The glasses of my sight! A beggar's tongue Make motion through my lips; and my arm'd knees, Who bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his That hath receiv'd an alms ! -I will not doʻt: Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth, And, by my body's action, teach my mind A most inherent baseness. VOLUMNIA'S RESOLUTION ON THE PRIDE OF
CORIOLANUS. At thy choice then: To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour, Than thou of them. Come all to ruin; let Thy mother rather feel thy pride, than fear Thy dangerous stoutness; for I mock at death With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list. Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck’dst it from me; But owet thy pride thyself.
CORIOLANUS'S DETESTATION OF THE VULGAR. You common cryf of curse! whose breath I hate As reekş o’ the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you; And here remain with your uncertainty! Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts! Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, Fan you into despair; have the power still To banish your defenders; till, at length, Your ignorance (which finds not till it feels,) Making not reservation of yourselves, (Still your own foes,) deliver Abated || captives, to some nation That won you without blows!
you, as most
* Dwell. † Own. Pack. $ Vapour. || Subdued.
That, when the sea was calm, all boats alike
A noble cunning: you were us'd to load me
ON COMMON FRIENDSHIPS.
O, world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast
We have a power on foot; and I had purpose
A small coin. + Embrace. Arm. $ Full.
Twelve several times, and I have nightly since
ACT V. THE SEASON OF SOLICITATION. He was not taken well: he had not din’d: The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then We pout upon the morning, are unapt To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd These pipes and these conveyances of our blood With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls Than in our priest-like fasts: therefore I'll watch
him Till he be dieted to my request.
My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mould Wherein th was fram'd, and in her hand The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affection: All bond and privilege of nature, break! Let it be virtuous, to be obstinate. What is that courtsey worth, or those doves? eyes, Which can make gods forsworn?-I melt, and am
* A young goose.
Forgive my tyranny; but do not say,
The noble sister of Publicola,
CORIOLANUS'S PRAYER FOR HIS SON.
Think with thyself, How more unfortunate than all living women Are we come hither: since that thy sight, which
should Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with com
forts, Constrains them weep, and shake with fear and
sorrow; Making the mother, wife, and child, to see The
son, the husband, and the father, tearing His country's bowels out. And to poor we,, Thine enmity's most capital: thou barrist us Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort
That all but we enjoy.
We must find
PEACE AFTER A SIEGE.
Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide, As the recomforted through the gates. Why, hark
you: The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and
fifes, Tabors and cymbals, and the shouting Romans, Make the sun dance.
Madam, so I did.
them, but To look
him: till the diminution Of space had pointed him sharp as my
needle: Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from The smallness of a gnat to air; and then Have turn’d mine eye, and wept.-But, good. Pisanio, When shall we hear from him?