Auf.

Insolent villain!

Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.

Lords.

[Aufidius and the Conspirators draw, and kill Coriolanus, who falls, and Aufidius stands on him.

Hold, hold, hold, hold.

O Tullus,

Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak.

1 Lord.

2 Lord. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour

will weep.

3 Lord. Tread not upon him.-Masters all, be quiet;

Put up your swords.

Auf. My lords, when you shall know (as in this

rage,

Provok'd by him, you cannot,) the great danger
Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice
That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours
To call me to your senate, I'll deliver

Myself your loyal servant, or endure
Your heaviest censure.

1 Lord.

Bear from hence his body,

And mourn you for him: let him be regarded
As the most noble corse, that ever herald

Did follow to his urn.

2 Lord.

His own impatience

Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.

Let's make the best of it.

Auf.

My rage is gone,

And I am struck with sorrow.-Take him up:Help, three o' the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.