The works of Shakespeare: : in seven volumes. . ip To banifh him, that ftruck more Blows for Rome,Than Thou haft fpohn Words?And again ; Good Man ! the Wounds that he does bear for Reme I Your CORIOLANUS. 75> Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,Fan you into Defpair: have the Power ftillTo baniih your Defenders, till at length,Your ignorance (which finds not, till it feels 5Making but refervation of your felvesStill your own enemies) deliver you,As mod abated captives, to fome NationThat won you without blows. Defpifing thenFor you, the City, thus I turn my back:There is a world elfew
The works of Shakespeare: : in seven volumes. . ip To banifh him, that ftruck more Blows for Rome,Than Thou haft fpohn Words?And again ; Good Man ! the Wounds that he does bear for Reme I Your CORIOLANUS. 75> Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,Fan you into Defpair: have the Power ftillTo baniih your Defenders, till at length,Your ignorance (which finds not, till it feels 5Making but refervation of your felvesStill your own enemies) deliver you,As mod abated captives, to fome NationThat won you without blows. Defpifing thenFor you, the City, thus I turn my back:There is a world elfewhere—-—— [_Exeunt Coriolanus, Cominius, and others.[The people Jh out ^ and throw up their caps. jEdile. The peoples enemy is gone, is gone! AIL Our enemy is banifhd$ he is gone! Hoo!hoo ! Sic. Go fee him out at gates, and follow himAs he hath followd you; with all defpightGive him defervd vexation. Let a GuardAttend us through the City. All. Come, come 5 lets fee him out at the gates Gods preferve our noble Tribunes! — ACT 80 CORIOLANUS. A C T IV. SCENE, before the Gates of Rome* Enter Coriolanus, Volumnia, Virgilia, Menenius,Cominius, with the young Nobility fl/Rome. Coriolanus* COme, leave your tears: a brief farewel: thebeailWith many heads butts me away. Nay, is your ancient Courage? you were usdTo fay, Extremity was the trier of fpirits,That common chances common men could bear jThat, when the Sea was calm, all boats alikeShewd mafterfhip in floating. Fortunes blows,When moft (truck home, being gently warded, cravesA noble Cunning. You were usd to load meWith precepts, that would make invincibleThe heart that connd them. Vir. Oh heav*ns! O heavns! Cor. Nay, I prythee, woman VoL Now the red peftilence ftrike all«trades in Rome>And occupations perifh. Cor. What! what! what?Ifhall be lovd, when I am lackd. Nay, mother,Refume that fpirit, when you were wont to fay,If you had been the wife of Hercules^Six of his labours youd have done,
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