I meane thy Generall
1 My Generall cares not for you. Back I say, go: least
I let forth your halfe pinte of blood. Backe, that's the vtmost
of your hauing, backe
Mene. Nay but Fellow, Fellow.
Enter Coriolanus with Auffidius.
Corio. What's the matter?
Mene. Now you Companion: Ile say an arrant for you:
you shall know now that I am in estimation: you shall
perceiue, that a Iacke gardant cannot office me from my
Son Coriolanus, guesse but my entertainment with him: if
thou stand'st not i'th state of hanging, or of some death
more long in Spectatorship, and crueller in suffering, behold
now presently, and swoond for what's to come vpon
thee. The glorious Gods sit in hourely Synod about thy
particular prosperity, and loue thee no worse then thy old
Father Menenius do's. O my Son, my Son! thou art preparing
fire for vs: looke thee, heere's water to quench it.
I was hardly moued to come to thee: but beeing assured
none but my selfe could moue thee, I haue bene blowne
out of your Gates with sighes: and coniure thee to pardon
Rome, and thy petitionary Countrimen. The good
Gods asswage thy wrath, and turne the dregs of it, vpon
this Varlet heere: This, who like a blocke hath denyed
my accesse to thee
Corio. Away
Mene. How? Away?
Corio. Wife, Mother, Child, I know not. My affaires
Are Seruanted to others: Though I owe
My Reuenge properly, my remission lies
In Volcean brests. That we haue beene familiar,
Ingrate forgetfulnesse shall poison rather
Then pitty: Note how much, therefore be gone.
Pages:
2076
2077
2078
2079
2080
2081
2082
2083
2084
2085
2086
2087
2088
2089
2090
2091
2092
2093
2094
2095
2096
2097
2098
2099
2100