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Updated: May 29, 2025
My mother bows; As if Olympus to a molehill should In supplication nod: and my young boy Hath an aspect of intercession, which Great Nature cries, 'Deny not! Let the Volsces Plough Rome, and harrow Italy; I'll never Be such a GOSLING to obey INSTINCT; but stand, As if a MAN were author of himself, And knew no other kin. These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome. Vir.
If you have writ your annals true,'tis there, That like an eagle in a dove-cote, I Flutter'd your Volsces in Corioli: Alone, I did it. Auf. Read it, noble lords; But tell the traitor, in the highest degree He hath abused your powers. Cor. Traitor! How now? Auf. Ay, traitor, Marcius. Cor. Marcius! Auf.
My mother bows; As if Olympus to a molehill should In supplication nod; and my young boy Hath an aspect of intercession, which, Great Nature cries: 'Deny not. Let the Volsces Plow Rome and harrow Italy; I'll never Be such a gosling to obey instinct; but stand, As if a man were author of himself, And knew no other kin!"*
The letters to Coleridge do not exhibit so much care or thought; nor those to Wordsworth or Manning, nor to any others of his intellectual equals. These correspondents could think and speculate for themselves, and they were accordingly left to their own resources. "The Volsces have much corn." But Bernard Barton was in a different condition; he was poor.
'If you have writ your annals true, 't is there, That like an EAGLE in a dove-cote, I Flutter'd your Volsces in Corioli: Alone, I did it. 'Why 'Why, noble lords, Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, 'Fore your own eyes and ears? Cons.
Cor. Tullus Aufidius then had made NEW HEAD. Lart. He had, my lord, and that it was, which caused Our swifter COMPOSITION. Cor. So then, the Volsces stand but as at first, Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make road Upon us again. Com. Cor. Behold! these are the tribunes of the people, The tongues o' the common mouth.
The news is, Sir, the Volces are in arms. Mar. I am glad on't; then we shall have means to vent Our musty superfluity: See, our best elders. First Sen. Marcius, 'tis true, that you have lately told us; The Volsces are in arms. Mar. They have a leader, Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to't. I sin in envying his nobility: And were I anything but what I am, I would wish me only he. Com.
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