CORIOLANUS.
Cut me to pieces, Volsces. Men and lads,
Stain all your edges on me. “Boy”? False hound!
If you have writ your annals true, ’tis there,
That like an eagle in a dovecote, I
Fluttered your Volscians in Corioles,
Alone I did it. “Boy”!
AUFIDIUS.
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?
ALL CONSPIRATORS.
Let him die for’t.
ALL PEOPLE
Tear him to pieces! Do it presently! He killed my son! My daughter! He killed my cousin Marcus! He killed my father!
SECOND LORD.
Peace, ho! No outrage! Peace!
The man is noble, and his fame folds in
This orb o’ th’ Earth. His last offences to us
Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius,
And trouble not the peace.
CORIOLANUS.
O that I had him,
With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe,
To use my lawful sword.
AUFIDIUS.
Insolent villain!
ALL CONSPIRATORS.
Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him!
[Draw the Conspirators, and kills Martius, who falls. Aufidius stands on him.]
LORDS.
Hold, hold, hold, hold!