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Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting
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Under your great command. You are to know
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That prosperously I have attempted and
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With bloody passage led your wars even to
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The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home
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Do more than counterpoise a full third part
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The charges of the action. We have made peace
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With no less honour to the Antiates
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Than shame to the Romans: and we here deliver,
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Subscribed by the consuls and patricians,
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Together with the seal o' the senate, what
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We have compounded on.
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AUFIDIUS:
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Read it not, noble lords;
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But tell the traitor, in the high'st degree
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He hath abused your powers.
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CORIOLANUS:
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Traitor! how now!
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AUFIDIUS:
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Ay, traitor, Marcius!
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CORIOLANUS:
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Marcius!
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AUFIDIUS:
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Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius: dost thou think
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I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name
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Coriolanus in Corioli?
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You lords and heads o' the state, perfidiously
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He has betray'd your business, and given up,
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For certain drops of salt, your city Rome,
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I say 'your city,' to his wife and mother;
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Breaking his oath and resolution like
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A twist of rotten silk, never admitting
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Counsel o' the war, but at his nurse's tears
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He whined and roar'd away your victory,
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That pages blush'd at him and men of heart
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Look'd wondering each at other.
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CORIOLANUS:
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Hear'st thou, Mars?
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AUFIDIUS:
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Name not the god, thou boy of tears!
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CORIOLANUS:
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Ha!
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AUFIDIUS:
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No more.
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CORIOLANUS:
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Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart
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Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave!
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Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever
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I was forced to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords,
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Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion--
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Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him; that
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Must bear my beating to his grave--shall join
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To thrust the lie unto him.
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First Lord:
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Peace, both, and hear me speak.
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CORIOLANUS:
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Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and lads,
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Stain all your edges on me. Boy! false hound!
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If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
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That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I
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Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli:
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Alone I did it. Boy!
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AUFIDIUS:
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Why, noble lords,
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Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune,
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Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart,
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'Fore your own eyes and ears?
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All Conspirators:
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Let him die for't.
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All The People:
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'Tear him to pieces.' 'Do it presently.' 'He kill'd
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my son.' 'My daughter.' 'He killed my cousin
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Marcus.' 'He killed my father.'
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Second Lord:
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Peace, ho! no outrage: peace!
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The man is noble and his fame folds-in
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This orb o' the earth. His last offences to us
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Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius,
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And trouble not the peace.
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CORIOLANUS:
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O that I had him,
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With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe,
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To use my lawful sword!
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