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The Tragedy of Coriolanus, II. i

Their nicely-gawded cheeks to the wanton spoil

Of Phœbus' burning kisses: such a pother

As if that whatsoever god who leads him

Were slily crept into his human powers,

And gave him graceful posture.

Sic. On the sudden

I warrant him consul.

Bru. Then our office may,

During his power, go sleep.

Sic. He cannot temperately transport his honours

From where he should begin and end, but will

Lose those he hath won.

Bru. In that there's comfort.

Sic. Doubt not the commoners, for whom we stand,

But they upon their ancient malice will

Forget with the least cause these his new honours,

Which that he'll give them, make I as little question

As he is proud to do 't.

Bru. I heard him swear,

Were he to stand for consul, never would he

Appear i' the market-place, nor on him put

The napless vesture of humility;

Nor, showing, as the manner is, his wounds

To the people, beg their stinking breaths.

Sic. 'Tis right.

Bru. It was his word, O! he would miss it rather

Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him

And the desire of the nobles.

Sic. I wish no better

Than have him hold that purpose and to put it

In execution.

Bru. 'Tis most like he will.

 236 nicely-gawded: daintily colored

237 pother: hubbub

243, 244 He end; cf. n.

247 upon: on account of

253 napless: threadbare

257 but: otherwise than

