Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Coriol. To begge of Hob and Dicke, that does appeere
Coriol. Their
Coriol. The Tragedie of Coriolanus.
Coriol. Their needlesse Vouches: Custome calls me too't.
Coriol. What Custome wills in all things, should we doo't?
Coriol. The Dust on antique Time would lye vnswept,
Coriol. And mountainous Error be too highly heapt,
Coriol. For Truth to o're‑peere. Rather then foole it so,
Coriol. Let the high Office and the Honor go
Coriol. To one that would doe thus. I am halfe through,
Coriol. The one part suffered, the other will I doe.
Coriol. Enter three Citizens more.
Coriol. Here come moe Voyces.
Coriol. Your Voyces? for your Voyces I haue fought,
Coriol. Watcht for your Voyces: for your Voyces, beare
Coriol. Of Wounds, two dozen odde: Battailes thrice six
Coriol. I haue seene, and heard of: for your Voyces,
Coriol. Haue done many things, some lesse, some more:
Coriol. Your Voyces? Indeed I would be Consull.
1. Cit. 1. Cit.