Men.
You've stood your limitation: and the tribunes
Endue you with the people's voice: Remains,
That in th' official marks invested, you
Anon do meet the senate.

Cor.
Is this done?

Sic.
The custom of request you have discharg'd:
The people do admit you, and are summon'd
To meet anon upon your approbation.

Cor.
Where? at the senate-house?

Sic.
There, Coriolanus.

Cor.
May I then change these garments?

Sic.
Sir, you may.

Cor.
That I'll straight do: and knowing myself again,
Repair to th' senate-house.

Men.
I'll keep you company. Will you along?

Bru.
We stay here for the people.

Sic.
Fare you well. [Exeunt Coriol. and Men.
He has it now, and by his looks, methinks
'Tis warm at's heart.

Bru.
With a proud heart he wore
His humble weeds: will you dismiss the people? Enter Citizens.

Sic.
How now, my masters, have you chose this man?

2 Cit.
He has our voices, Sir.

Bru.
We pray the Gods he may deserve your loves.

1 Cit.
Amen, Sir: to my poor unworthy notice,
He mock'd us, when he begg'd our voices.

3 Cit.
Certainly he flouted us, down-right.

2 Cit.
No, 'tis his kind of speech, he did not mock us.

1 Cit.
Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says
He us'd us scornfully: he should have shew'd us
His marks of merit, wounds receiv'd for's country.

Sic.
Why so he did, I am sure.

1 Cit.
No man saw 'em.
He said he'd wounds, which he could shew in private;
And with his cap, thus waving it in scorn,
I would be consul, says he; aged custom,
But by your voices, will not so permit me;
Your voices, therefore: when we granted that,
Here was—I thank you for your voices—thank you—
Your most sweet voices—now you have left your voices,

I have nothing further with you. Wa'n't this mockery;

Sic.
Why either were you ignorant to see't?
Or seeing it, of such childish friendliness,
To yield your voices?

Bru.
Did you perceive,
He did solicit you in free contempt,
When he did need your loves, and do you think
That his contempt shall not be bruising to you,
When he hath power to crush? why had your bodies
No heart among you? or had you tongues, to cry
Against the rectorship of judgment?

Sic.
Have you,
Ere now, deny'd the asker; and now again,
On him that did not ask, but mock, bestow'd
Your su'd-for tongues?

3 Cit.
He's not confirm'd, we may
Deny him yet.

2 Cit.
Ay, and we will deny him:
I'll have five hundred voices of that sound.

1 Cit.
Ay, twice five hundred, and their friends to piece 'em.

Bru.
Get you hence instantly, and tell those friends,
They've chose a consul that will from them take
Their liberties, make them of no more voice,
Than dogs that are as often beat for barking,
As therefore kept to do so.

Sic.
Let them assemble; and on safer judgment,
Revoke your ignorant election;
Enforce his pride, and his old hate to you.
Say, you chose him more after our commandment,
Than guided by your own affections,
And that your minds, pre-occupied with what
You rather must do, than with what you should do,
Made you against the grain to voice him consul.
Lay the fault on us* ^note.

Bru.
Ay, spare us not.
Say, you ne'er had done't,
(Harp on that still) but by our putting on;
And presently, when you have drawn your number,
Repair to th' Capitol.

All.
We will; almost all
Repent in their election. [Exeunt Citizens.

Bru.
Let 'em go on:
This mutiny were better put in hazard,
Than stay past doubt for greater:
If, as his nature is, he fall in rage
With their refusal, both observe and answer
The vantage of his anger.

Sic.
Come; to th' Capitol.
We will be there before the stream o'th' people:
And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own,
Which we have goaded onward. [Exeunt* ^note. End of the Second ACT. ACT III. Scene SCENE the Forum. Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, Cominius, Titus Lartius, and other Senators.

Coriolanus.
Tullius Aufidius then had made new head?

Lar.
He had, my lord, and that it was which caus'd
Our swifter composition.

Cor.
So then the Volscians stand but as at first,
Ready when time shall prompt them, to make inroad
Upon's again.

Com.
They're worn, lord Consul, so,
That we shall hardly in our ages see
Their banners wave again.

Cor.
Saw you Aufidius?

Lar.
On safe-guard he came to me, and did curse
Against the Volscians, for they had so vilely
Yielded the town; he is retir'd to Antium.

Cor.
Spoke he of me?

Lar.
He did, my lord.

Cor.
How?—what?—

Lar.
How often he had met you sword, to sword:
That of all things upon the earth be hated
Your person most* ^note: that he would pawn his fortunes
To hopeless restitution, so he might
Be call'd your vanquisher.

Cor.
At Antium lives he?

Lar.
At Antium.

Cor.
I wish I had a cause to seek him there,
To oppose his hatred fully. Enter Sicinius and Brutus.
Behold these are the tribunes of the people,
The tongues o'th' common mouth: I do despise them,
For they do prank them in authority,
Against all noble sufferance.

Sic.
Pass no further.

Cor.
Hah!—what is that!—

Bru.
It will be dangerous to go on—no further.

Cor.
What makes this change?

Men.
The matter?

Com.
Hath he not pass'd the nobles and the commons?

Bru.
Cominius, no.

Cor.
Have I had childrens voices?

Men.
Tribunes, give way; he shall to th' market-place.

Bru.
The people are incens'd against him.

Sic.
Stop,
Or all will fall in broil.

Cor.
Are these your herd?
Must these have voices, that can yield them now,
And straight disclaim their tongues? what are your offices?
You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth?
Have you not set them on?

Men.
Be calm, be calm.

Cor.
It is a purpos'd thing, and grows by plot,
To curb the will of the nobility:
Suffer't, and live with such as cannot rule,
Nor ever will be rul'd.

Bru.
Call't not a plot;
The people cry you mock'd them; and of late,
When corn was given them gratis, you repin'd,
Scandal'd the suppliants for the people, call'd them
Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness.

Cor.
Why, this was known before.

Bru.
Not to them all.

Cor.
Have you inform'd them, since?

Bru.
How! I inform them!

Cor.
Yes, you are like enough to do such business.

Bru.
Not unlike, either way, to better yours.

Cor.
Why then should I be consul? by yon clouds,
Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me
Your fellow-tribune* ^note.

Com.
The people are abus'd, set on; this paltring
Becomes not Rome: nor has Coriolanus
Deserv'd this so dishonour'd rub, laid falsly
I'th' plain way of his merit.

Cor.
Tell me of corn!
This was my speech, and I will speak't again—

Men.
Not now, not now.

Cor.
Now as I live, I will—
As for my nobler friends, I crave their pardons:
But for the mutable rank-scented many,
Let them regard me, as I do not flatter,

And there behold themselves: I say again,
In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our senate,
The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition,
Which we ourselves have plow'd for, sow'd, and scatter'd,
By mingling them with us, the honour'd number;
Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that
Which we have given to beggars.

Men.
Well, no more—

Cor.
How!—no more!
As for my country, I have shed my blood,
Not fearing outward force; so shall my lungs
Coin words till their decay, against those measles
Which we disdain should tetter us, yet seek
The very way to catch them.

Bru.
You speak o'th' people, Sir, as if you were
A God to punish, not as being a man
Of their infirmity.

Sic.
'Twere well we let
The people know't.

Men.
What, what! his choler?

Cor.
Choler!
Were I as patient as the midnight sleep,
By Jove, 'twould be my mind.

Sic.
It is a mind
That shall remain a poison where it is,
Not poison any further.

Cor.
Shall remain?
Hear you this Triton of the minnows? mark you,
His absolute shall?
Shall!—

Com.
Well—on to th' market-place.

Cor.
Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth
The corn o'th' storehouse, gratis, as 'twas us'd,
Sometimes in Greece—

Men.
Well, well, no more of that.

Cor.
I say, they nourish'd disobedience, fed
The ruin of the state.

Bru.
Shall th' people give
One that speaks thus, their voice?

Sic.
H'as spoken like a traitor, and shall answer
As traitors do.

Cor.
Thou wretch! despight o'er-whelm thee!
What should the people do with these bald tribunes?
On whom depending, their obedience fails
To th' greater bench. In a rebellion,
When what's not meet, but what must be, was law,
Then were they chosen; in a better hour,
Let what is meet, be said, That must be law,
And throw their power i'th' dust* ^note.

Bru.
Manifest treason—

Sic.
This a consul? no.

Bru.
The Ædiles, ho! let him be apprehended.

Sic.
Go, call the people, in whose name myself
Attach thee as a traiterous innovator:
A foe to th' public weal. Obey, I charge thee,
And follow to thine answer. [Laying hold on Coriolanus.

Cor.
Hence, old goat!
Hence, rotten thing, or I shall shake thy bones
Out of thy garments.

Sic.
Help me, citizens. Scene SCENE. Enter a rabble of Plebeians, with the Ædiles.

Men.
On both sides, more respect.

Sic.
Here's he, that would take from you all your power.

Bru.
Seize him, Ædiles.

All.
Down with him, down with him!

Men.
What is about to be?—I am out of breath;
Confusion's near. I cannot speak.—You tribunes,
Coriolanus, patience; speak, Sicinius.

Sic.
Hear me, people—peace.

All.
Let's hear our tribunes: peace, ho! speak, speak, speak.

Sic.
You are at point to lose your liberties:

Martius would have all from you: Martius,
Whom late you nam'd for consul.

Men.
Fie, fie, fie.
This is the way to kindle, not to quench.

Sic.
What is the city, but the people?

All.
True, the people are the city.

Bru.
By the consent of all, we were establish'd
The people's magistrates.

All.
You so remain.

Men.
And so are like to do.

Cor.
This is the way to lay the city flat;
To bring the roof to the foundation,
And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges,
In heaps and piles of ruin.

Sic.
This deserves death.

Bru.
Or let us stand to our authority,
Or let us lose it; we do here pronounce,
Upon the part o'th' people, in whose power
We were elected theirs, Martius is worthy
Of present death.

Sic.
Therefore lay hold on him;
Bear him to th' rock Tarpeian* ^note, and from thence
Into destruction cast him.

Bru.
Ædiles, seize him.

All Ple.
Yield, Martius, yield.

Cor.
No, I'll die here; [Drawing his sword.
There's some among you have beheld me fighting,
Come try, upon yourselves, what you have seen me. [In this mutiny the Tribunes, the Ædiles, and the people are beat in. Scene SCENE.

Men.
Go, get you to your house; be gone, away,
All will be naught else.

Com.
Stand fast, we have as many friends as enemies.

Men.
Shall it be put to that?
The Gods forbid!

I pr'ythee, noble friend, home to thy house,
Leave us to cure this case.
For 'tis a sore
You cannot tent yourself; begone, 'beseech you.

Com.
Come away. [Exeunt Coriolanus and Cominius. Scene SCENE.

Men.
This man has marr'd his fortune.
His nature is too noble for the world:
He would not flatter Neptune, for his trident,
Or Jove, for's power to thunder: his heart's his mouth:
What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent;
And being angry, does forget that ever
He heard the name of death.— [A noise within.
Here's goodly work. Enter Brutus and Sicinius, with the rabble again.

Sic.
Where is this viper,
That would depopulate the city, and
Be every man himself?

Men.
You worthy tribunes—

Sic.
He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock,
With rigorous hands; he hath resisted law,
And therefore law shall scorn him further trial,
Than the severity of public power,
Which he so sets at nought.

1 Cit.
He shall well know the noble tribunes are
The people's mouths, and we their hands.

All.
He shall,
Be sure on't.

Men.
Sir, Sir,—

Sic.
Peace.

Men.
Do not cry havock, where you should but hunt
With modest warrant.

Sic.
Sir, how comes it you
Have holp to make this rescue?

Men.
Hear me speak;
As I do know the consul's worthiness,
So can I name his faults—

Sic.
Consul!—what consul!

Men.
The consul Coriolanus.

Bru.
He the consul!—

All.
No, no, no, no, no.

Men.
If by the tribunes leave, and yours, good people,
I may be heard, I crave a word or two,
The which shall turn you to no further harm,
Than so much loss of time.

Sic.
Speak briefly, then,
For we are peremptory to dispatch
This viperous traitor; to eject him hence,
Were but our danger, and to keep him here,
Our certain death; therefore it is decreed,
He dies, to-night.

Men.
Now the good Gods forbid,
That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude
Tow'rds her deserving children is enroll'd
In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam,
Should now eat up her own!

Sic.
He's a disease that must be cut away.

Men.
Oh, he is but a limb, that has disease;
Mortal, to cut it off; to cure it, easy.
What has he done to Rome, that's worthy death?
Killing our enemies? the blood he hath lost
(Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he hath,
By many an ounce) he dropt it for his country:
And what is left, to lose it by his country,
Were to us all that do't, and suffer it,
A brand to th' end o'th' world.

Bru.
We'll hear no more.
Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence,
Lest his infection, being of catching nature,
Spread further.

Men.
One word more, hear me one word:
Proceed by process,
Lest parties (as he is belov'd) break out,
And sack great Rome with Romans.

Bru.
If 'twere so—

Sic.
What do ye talk?

Have we not had a taste of his obedience?
Our Ædiles smote, ourselves resisted! come—

Men.
Consider this; he hath been bred i'th' wars,
Since he could draw a sword, and is ill-school'd
In boulted language, meal and bran together
He throws without distinction. Give me leave,
I'll go to him, and undertake to bring him,
Where he shall answer by a lawful form,
In peace, to his utmost peril.

Sic.
Noble Menenius,
Be you then as the people's officer.
Masters, lay down your weapons.

Bru.
Go not home.

Sic.
Meet on the Forum; we'll attend you there,
Where if you bring not Martius, we'll proceed
In our first way.

Men.
I'll go and bring him to you. [Exeunt. Scene SCENE the house of Coriolanus. Enter Coriolanus and Volumnia.

Cor.
Let them pull all about mine ears, present me
Death on the wheel, or at wild horses heels,
Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock,
That the precipitation might down stretch
Below the beam of sight, yet will I still
Be thus to them* ^note.

Vol.
But hear me, Martius.

Cor.
I muse, my mother
Does not approve me further, (I talk of you) [To his Mother.
Why did you wish me milder? wou'd you have me
False to my nature? rather say, I play
Truly the man I am.

Vol.
Oh, Sir, Sir, Sir,
I would have had you put your power well on,
Before you had worn it out.

Cor.
Why let it go—

Vol.
You might have been enough the man you are,
With striving less to be so. Lesser had been
The thwartings of your disposition, if
You had not shew'd them how you were dispos'd,
Ere they lack'd power to cross you.

Cor.
Let them hang.

Vol.
Ay, and burn too. Enter Menenius, with the Senators.

Men.
Come, come, you've been too rough, something too rough:
You must return and mend it.

Vol.
Pray be counsell'd;
I have a heart as little apt as yours,
But yet a brain that leads my use of anger,
To better vantage.

Men.
Well said, noble woman:
Before he should thus stoop to th' herd, but that
The violent fit o'th' times craves it as physic,
For the whole state, I'd put mine armour on,
Which I can scarcely bear.

Cor.
What must I do?

Men.
Return to th' tribunes.

Cor.
Well, what then? what then?

Men.
Repent what you have spoke.

Cor.
For them! I cannot do it for the Gods,
Must I then do't to them?

Vol.
You are not absolute,
Tho' therein you can never be too noble,
But when extremities speak. I've heard you say,
Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends,
I'th' war do grow together: grant that, and tell me,
In peace what each of them by th'other loses,
That they combine not there?

Men.
A good demand.

Cor.
Why force you this!

Vol.
Because it lies on you to speak to th' people:
Not by your own instruction, nor by th' matter
Which your heart prompts you to, but with such words
But roted* ^note on your tongue; bastards, and syllables,

Of no alliance to your bosom's truth.
I would dissemble with my nature, where
My fortunes and my friends at stake requir'd
I should do so in honour.

Men.
Noble lady!
Come go with us, speak fair: you may salve so,
Not what is dangerous present, but the loss
Of what is past.

Vol.
I pr'ythee now, my son,
Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand,
And thus far having stretch'd it (here be with them)
Thy knees bussing the stones; for in such business,
Action is eloquence; and the eyes of th' ignorant
More learned than the ears; waving thy hand,
Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart,
Now humble as the ripest mulberry,
That will not hold the handling; say to them,
Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils,
Hast not the soft way, which thou dost confess
Were fit for thee to use, as them to claim,
In asking their good loves, but thou wilt frame
Thyself (forsooth) hereafter theirs so far,
As thou hast power and person* ^note.

Men.
This but done,
Ev'n as she speaks, why, all their hearts were yours:
For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free,
As words to little purpose. Enter Cominius.
Here is Cominius.

Com.
I have been i'th' market-place, and, Sir, 'tis fit
You have strong party, or defend yourself,
By calmness, or by absence: all's in anger.

Men.
Only fair speech.

Com.
I think 'twill serve, if he
Can thereto frame his spirit.

Vol.
He must and will:
Pr'ythee, now, say you will, and go about it.

Cor.
Must I go shew them my unbarbed sconce?* ^note
Must my base tongue give to my noble heart
A lie, that it must bear? well, I will do't:
Yet were there but this single pelt to lose,
This mould of Martius, they to dust should grind it,
And throw't against the wind. To th' market-place!
You've put me now to such a part, which never
I shall discharge to th' life.

Com.
Come, come, we'll prompt you.

Vol.
Ay, pr'ythee now, sweet son: as thou hast said
My praises made thee first a soldier; so
To have my praise for this, perform a part
Thou hast not done before.

Cor.
Well, I must do't:
Away, my disposition, and possess me
Some harlot's spirit; my throat of war be turn'd,
Which quired with my drum, into a pipe
Small as an eunuch's, or the virgin voice
That babies lulls asleep!
A beggar's tongue
Make motion through my lips, and my arm'd knees,† ^note
Which bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his
That hath receiv'd an alms! I will not do't,
Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth,
And by my body's action teach my mind
A most inherent baseness.

Vol.
At thy choice, then:
To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour,
Than thou of them. Come all to ruin, let
Thy mother rather feel thy pride, than fear
Thy dangerous stoutness: for I mock at death,
With as big heart as thou. Do as thou lift.
Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it from me;
But own thy pride thyself.

Cor.
Pray be content:
Mother, I'm going to the market-place:
Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves,

Cog their hearts from them, and come home belov'd
Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going:
Commend me to my wife. I'll return consul,
Or never trust to what my tongue can do,
I'th' way of flattery, further.

Vol.
Do your will. [Exeunt. Scene SCENE, the Forum. Enter Sicinius and Brutus.

Bru.
Put him to choler straight; he hath been us'd
Ever to conquer, and to have no word
Of contradiction. Being once chaf'd, he cannot
Be rein'd again to temp'rance; then he speaks
What's in his heart; and that is there, which works
With us to break his neck. Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, and Cominius, with Senators.

Sic.
Well, here he comes.

Men.
Calmly I do beseech you.

Cor.
Ay, as an ostler, that for the poorest piece
Will bear the knave by th' volume: the honour'd gods
Keep Rome in safety; and the chairs of justice
Supply with worthy men; plant love amongst you;
Throng our large temples with the shews of peace;
And not our streets with war!

Men.
Amen. A noble wish. Enter the Ædile, with the Plebeians.

Sic.
Draw near, ye people.

Æd.
List to your Tribunes: audience;
Peace, I say.

Cor.
First, hear me speak.

Both Tri.
Well, say: peace, ho.

Cor.
Shall I be charg'd no further than this present?
Must all determine here?

Sic.
I do demand,
If you submit you to the people's voices,
Allow their officers, and are content

To suffer lawful censure for such faults,
As shall be prov'd upon you?

Cor.
I am content.

Men.
Lo, citizens, he says he is content:
The warlike service he has done, consider;
Think on the wounds his body bears, which shew
Like graves i'th' holy church-yard.

Cor.
Well, well, no more.
What is the matter,
That being past for consul with full voice,
I'm so dishonour'd, that the very hour,
You take it off again?

Sic.
Answer to us.

Cor.
Say, then: 'tis true, I ought so.

Sic.
We charge you, that you have contriv'd to take
From Rome all season'd office, and to wind
Your self unto a power tyrannical;
For which you are a traitor to the people.

Cor.
How? traitor?

Men.
Nay, temperately: your promise.

Cor.
The fires i'th' lowest hell fold in the people!
Call me their traitor! thou injurious tribune!
Within thine eyes sate twenty thousand deaths,
In thy hands clutch'd as many millions, in
Thy lying tongue both numbers; I would say,
Thou liest, unto thee, with a voice as free,
As I do pray the gods.* ^note

Sic.
Mark you this, people?

All.
To th' rock with him.

Sic.
Peace:
We need not put new matter to his charge:
What you have seen him do, and heard him speak,
Deserves th' extreamest death.

Bru.
But since he hath
Serv'd well for Rome—

Cor.
What do you prate of service?

Bru.
I talk of that, that know it.

Cor.
You?—

Men.
Is this the promise that you made your mother?

Com.
Know, I pray you—

Cor.
I'll know no further:
Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death,
Vagabond exile, fleaing, pent to linger,
Put with a grain a-day, I would not buy
Their mercy at the price of one fair word,
Nor check my courage for what they can give,
To have't with saying, Good-morrow.

Sic.
For that he has
(As much as in him lies) from time to time,
Envy'd against the people, seeking means
To pluck away their power; has now, at last,
Giv'n hostile strokes, and that not only in presence
Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers
That do distribute it; in the name o'th' people,
And in the power of us, the tribunes, we
(Ev'n from this instant) banish him our city,
In peril of precipitation
From off the rock Tarpeian, never more
To enter our Rome's gates. I'th' people's name,
I say it shall be so.

All.
It shall be so; it shall be so; let him away:
He's banish'd, and it shall be so.

Com.
Hear me, my masters, and my common friends—
I have been consul, and can shew for Rome
Her enemies marks upon me.

Bru.
There's no more to be said, but he is banish'd,
As enemy to the people and his country.
It shall be so.

All.
It shall be so, it shall be so.

Cor.
You common cry of curs, whose breath I hate,
As reek o'th' rotten fens; whose loves I prize,
As the dead carcases of unburied men,
That do corrupt my air; I banish you.
And here remain with your uncertainty!
Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts,
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,
Fan you into despair! have the power still
To banish your defenders, 'till at length
Your ignorance deliver you,
As most abated captives, to some nation
That won you without blows! Despising then,
For you, the city, thus I turn my back;
There is a world elsewhere—* ^note [Exeunt Coriolanus, Cominius, and Senators. [The people shout, and throw up their caps. End of the Third ACT. ACT IV. Scene SCENE the Gates of Rome. Enter Coriolanus, Volumnia, Virgilia, Menenius, Cominius.

Coriolanus.
Come, leave your tears: a brief farewel: the beast
With many heads, butts me away. Nay, mother,
Where is your ancient courage? you were us'd
To say, extremity was the trier of spirits,
That common chances common men could bear;
That when the sea was calm, all boats alike

Shew'd mastership in floating.
You were us'd to load me
With precepts that would make invincible
The heart that conn'd them.

Vir.
O heav'ns! O heav'ns!

Cor.
Nay, I pr'ythee, woman—

Vol.
Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome,
And occupations perish!

Cor.
What! what! what!
I shall be lov'd, when I am lack'd. Nay, mother,
Resume that spirit, when you were won't to say,
If you had been the wife of Hercules,
Six of his labours you'd have done, and sav'd
Your husband so much sweat. Cominius,
Droop not; adieu: farewel, my wife, my mother;
I'll do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius,
Thy tears are salter than a younger man's,
And venomous to thine eyes. My (sometime) general,
I've seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld
Heart-hardning spectacles. Tell these sad women,
'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes,
As 'tis to laugh at 'em. Mother, you wot
My hazards still have been your solace; and
Believe't not lightly, (tho' I go alone,
Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen
Makes fear'd, and talk'd of more than seen:) your son
Will or exceed the common, or be caught
With cautelous baits and practice.

Vol.
First, my son,
Where will you go? take good Cominius
With thee, a while; determine on some course,
More than a wild exposure to each chance,
That starts i'th' way before thee.

Cor.
O the gods!

Com.
I'll follow thee a month, devise with thee
Where thou shalt rest, that thou may'st hear of us,
And we of thee. So if the time thrust forth
A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send
Over the vast world, to seek a single man,

And lose advantage, which doth ever cool
I'th' absence of the needer.

Cor.
Fare ye well:
Thou'st years upon thee, and thou art too full
Of the war's surfeits, to go rove with one,
That's yet unbruis'd: bring me but out at gate.
Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and
My friends of noble touch: when I am forth,
Bid me farewel, and smile. I pray you, come.
While I remain above the ground, you shall
Hear from me still, and never of me aught,
But what is like me formerly.

Men.
That's worthily,
As any ear can hear. Come, let's not weep.
If I could shake off but one seven years,
From these old arms and legs, by the good gods,
I'd with thee, every foot.

Cor.
Give me thy hand. Exeunt. Scene SCENE. Enter Sicinius and Brutus, with the Ædile.

Sic.
Bid them all home, he's gone; and we'll no further.
Vex'd are the nobles, who we see have sided
In his behalf.

Bru.
Now we have shewn our power,
Let us seem humbler after it is done,
Than when it was a doing.

Sic.
Bid them home,
Say their great enemy is gone, and they
Stand in their ancient strength.

Bru.
Dismiss them home.
Here comes his mother. Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Menenius.

Sic.
Let's not meet her.

Bru.
Why?

Sic.
They say she's mad.

Bru.
They have ta'en note of us: keep on your way.

Vol.
Oh, y'are well met:
The hoarded plague o'th' gods requite your love!

Men.
Peace, peace, be not so loud.

Vol.
If that I could for weeping, you should hear—
Nay, and you shall hear some. Will you be gone? [To Brutus.

Vir.
You shall stay, too: I would I had the power
To say so to my husband.

Sic.
Are you mankind?

Vol.
Ay, fool: is that a shame? note but this fool.
Was not a man my father? hadst thou foxship
To banish him that struck more blows for Rome,
Than thou hast spoken words?

Sic.
Oh blessed heav'ns!

Vol.
More noble blows, than ever thou wise words,
And for Rome's good—I'll tell thee what—yet go—
Nay, but thou shalt stay too—I would my son
Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him,
His good sword in his hand.

Sic.
What then?

Vol.
What then?
He'd make an end of thy posterity;
Bastards, and all.
Good man, the wounds that he doth bear for Rome!

Men.
Come, come, peace.

Sic.
I would he had continued to his country,
As he began, and not unknit himself
The noble knot he made.

Bru.
I would he had.

Vol.
I would he had!—'twas you incens'd the rabble:
Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth,
As I can of those mysteries, which heav'n
Will not have earth to know.

Bru.
Pray, let us go.

Vol.
Now, pray, Sir, get you gone,
You've done a brave deed: ere you go, hear this:
As far as doth the capitol exceed
The meanest house in Rome; so far my son,

This lady's husband here, this, (do you see)
Whom you have banish'd, does exceed you all.

Bru.
Well, well, we'll leave you. [Exe. Tribunes.

Vol.
Take my prayers with you.
I wish the gods had nothing else to do,
But to confirm my curses. Could I meet 'em,
But once a-day, it would unclog my heart,
Of what lies heavy to't.

Men.
You've told them home,
And by my troth have cause; you'll sup with me?

Vil.
Anger's my meat, I sup upon myself,
And so shall starve with feeding: come, let's go,
Leave this faint puling, and lament, as I do, [To Vir.
In anger Juno-like: come, come, fie, fie! [Exeunt.* ^note Scene SCENE a street. Enter Coriolanus in mean apparel, disguis'd and muffled.

Cor.
A goodly city is this Antium. City,
'Tis I that made thy widows: many an heir
Of these fair edifices, 'fore, my wars,
Have I heard groan, and drop: then know me not,
Lest that thy wives with spits, and boys with stones,
In puny battle slay me. Save you, Sir. Enter a citizen of Antium.

Cit.

And you.

Cor.

Direct me, if it be your will, where great Aufidius lies: is he in Antium?

Cit.

He is, and feasts the Nobles of the state, at his house, this night.

Cor.

Which is his house, I beseech you?

Cit.

This here before you.

Cor.
Thank you, Sir: Farewel. [Exit Citizen.
Oh world, thy slippery turns!† ^note











My birth-place have I and my lovers left;
This enemy's house I'll enter; if he slay me,
He does fair justice; if he give me way,
I'll do his country service. [Exit. Scene SCENE a hall in Aufidius's house. Enter a serving-man.

1 Ser.
Wine, wine, wine! what service is here?
I think our fellows are asleep. [Exit. Enter another serving-man.

2 Ser.
Where's Cotus? my master calls for him;
Cotus! [Exit. Enter Coriolanus.

Cor.
A goodly house; the feast smells well; but I
Appear not like a guest. Enter the first serving-man.

1 Ser.

What would you have, friend? whence are you? here's no place for you: pray go to the door.

Cor.

I have deserv'd no better entertainment, in being Coriolanus.

2 Ser.

Whence are you, Sir? has the porter his eyes in his head, that he gives entrance to such companions? pray, get you out.

Cor.

Away!—

2 Ser.

Away!—get you away.

Cor.

Now thou'rt troublesome.

2 Ser.

Are you so brave? I'll have you talk'd with, anon.

3 Ser.

What fellow's this?

1 Ser.

A strange one as ever I look'd on: I cannot get him out o'th' house: pry'thee call my master to him.

3 Ser.

What have you to do here; fellow? pray you, avoid the house.

Cor.

Let me but stand, I will not hurt your hearth.

3 Ser.

What are you?

Cor.

A gentleman.

3 Ser.

A marvellous poor one.

Cor.

True; so I am.

3 Ser.

Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other station, here's no place for you; pray you avoid: come.

Cor.

Follow your function, go and batten on cold bits.

3 Ser.

What, will you not? pr'ythee, tell my master what a strange guest he has, here.

2 Ser.

And I shall.

3 Ser.

Where dwell'st thou?

Cor.

Under the canopy.

3 Ser.

Under the canopy?

Cor.

Ay.

3 Ser.

Where's that?

Cor.

I'th' city of kites and crows.

Auf.

Where is this fellow?

2 Ser.

Here, Sir; I'd have beaten him like a dog, but for disturbing the lords within.

Auf.

Whence com'st thou? what would'st thou? thy name? why speak'st not? speak, man: what's thy name?

Cor.
If, Tullus, yet thou know'st me not, and seeing me
Dost not yet take me for the man I am,
Necessity commands me name myself.

Auf.
What is thy name?

Cor.
A name unmusical to Volscian ears,
And harsh in sound to thine.

Auf.
Say, what's thy name?
Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face
Bears a command in't; though thy tackle's torn,
Thou shew'st a noble vessel: what's thy name?

Cor.
My name is Caius Martius, who hath done
To thee particularly, and to all the Volscians,
Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may
My sirname, Coriolanus. The painful service,
The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood,
Shed for my thankless country, are requited
But with that sirname;
The cruelty and envy of the people,
Permitted by our dastard Nobles, who
Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest;
And suffer'd me by th' voice of slaves to be
Whoop'd out of Rome. Now this extremity
Hath brought me to thy hearth, not out of hope,
(Mistake me not) to save my life; for if
I had fear'd death, of all the men i'th' world,
I'd have avoided thee. But in meer spite
To be full quit of those my banishers,
Stand I before thee here: then if thou hast
A heart of wreak in thee, that will revenge
Thine own particular wrongs, and stop those maims
Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee straight,
And make my misery serve thy turn: so use it,
For I will fight
Against my canker'd country, with the spleen
Of all the under fiends. But if so be
Thou dar'st not this, and that to prove more fortunes
Thou'rt tir'd; then, in a word, I also am,
Longer to live, most weary; and present

My throat to thee,
Which not to cut, would shew thee but a fool,
Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate,
Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast,
And cannot live, but to thy shame, unless
It be to do thee service.‡ ^note

Auf.
Oh, Martius, Martius,
Each word thou'st spoke hath weeded from my heart
A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter
Should from yon cloud speak to me things divine,
And say, 'Tis true; I'd not believe them more
Than thee, all-noble Martius. Let me twin
Mine arms about that body, where against
My grained ash an hundred times hath broke,
And scar'd the moon with splinters: here I clip
The anvil of my sword, and do contest
As hotly and as nobly with thy love,
As ever in ambitious strength I did
Contend against thy valour.
But, that I see thee here,
Thou noble thing, more dances my rapt heart,
Than when I first my wedded mistress saw
Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars, I tell thee,
We have a power on foot; and I had purpose
Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn,
Or lose my arm for't: thou hast beat me out,
Twelve several times, and I have nightly since
Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me:
We have been down together in my sleep,
Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat,
And wak'd half dead with nothing. Worthy Martius,
Had we no quarrel else to Rome, but that
Thou art thence banish'd, we would muster all
From twelve to seventy; and pouring war
Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,

Like a bold flood o'er-bear. O come, go in,§ ^note
And take our friendly senators by th' hands,
Who now are here, taking their leaves of me,
Who am prepar'd against your territories,
Though not for Rome itself.

Cor.
You bless me, gods!

Auf.
Therefore, most absolute Sir, if thou wilt have
The leading of thine own revenges, take
One half of my commission, and set down,
As best thou art experienc'd, since thou know'st
Thy country's strength and weakness, thine own ways;
Whether to knock against the gates of Rome,
Or rudely visit them in parts remote,
To fright them, ere destroy. But come, come in,
Let me commend thee first to those that shall
Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes,
And more a friend, than e'er an enemy:
Yet, Martius, that was much. Your hand: most welcome! [Exeunt. Scene SCENE, the Forum. Enter Sicinius and Brutus.

Sic.
We hear not of him, neither need we fear;
His remedies are tame: Enter Menenius.

Bru.

We stood to't in good time. Is this Menenius?

Sic.

'Tis he, 'tis he: O, he is grown most kind, of late. Hail, Sir!

Men.

Hail to you both!

Sic.

Your Coriolanus is not much miss'd, but with his friends; the commonwealth doth stand, and so would do, were he more angry at it.

Men.

All's well, and might have been much better, if he could have temporiz'd.

Sic.
Where is he, hear you?

Men.
Nay, I hear nothing:
His mother and his wife hear nothing from him.

Bru.
Caius Martius was
A worthy officer i'th' war; but insolent,
O'ercome with pride, ambitious past all thinking,
Self-loving.

Sic.
And affecting one sole throne,
Without assistants.

Men.
Nay, I think not so.

Sic.
We had by this, to all our lamentation,
If he had gone forth consul, found it so.

Bru.
The gods have well prevented it, and Rome
Sits safe and still without him. Enter Ædile.

Æd.
Worthy tribunes,
There is a slave, whom we have put in prison,
Reports the Volscians, with two several powers,
Are entred in the Roman territories,
And with the deepest malice of the war,
Destroy what lies before 'em.

Men.
'Tis Aufidius,
Who hearing of our Martius' banishment,
Thrusts forth his horns again into the world;
Which were in-shell'd, when Martius stood for Rome,
And durst not once peep out.

Sic.
Come, what talk you of Martius?

Bru.
Go see this rumourer whipt. It cannot be
The Volscians dare break with us.

Men.
Cannot be!
We have record that very well it can,
And three examples of the like have been.
Within my age. But reason with the fellow,
Before you punish him, where he heard this,
Lest you shall chance to whip your information,
And beat the messenger who bids beware
Of what is to be dreaded.

Sic.
Tell not me:
I know this cannot be.

Bru.
Not possible.

Enter Messenger.

Mes.
The nobles in great earnestness are going
All to the senate house; some news is come
That turns their countenances.

Sic.
'Tis this slave:
Go whip him 'fore the peoples eyes: his raising!
Nothing but his report!

Mes.
Yes, worthy Sir,
The slave's report is seconded, and more,
More fearful is delivered.

Sic.
What more fearful!

Mes.
It is spoke freely out of many mouths,
How probable I do not know, that Martius
Join'd with Aufidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome.

Sic.
This is most likely!

Bru.
Rais'd only, that the weaker sort may wish
Good Martius home again.

Sic.
The very trick on't.

Men.
This is unlikely.
He and Aufidius can no more atone,
Than violentest contrarieties. Enter Cominius.

Com.
Oh, you have made good work.

Men.
What news? what news?

Com.
You have holp to ravish your own daughters, and
To melt the city-leads upon your pates,
To see your wives dishonour'd to your noses.

Men.
What's the news? what's the news?

Com.
Your temples burned in their cement, and
Your franchises, whereon you stood, confin'd
Into an auger's bore.

Men.
Pray now the news?
You've made fair work, I fear me: pray, your news?
If Martius should be joined with the Volscians,—

Com.
If? he is their god, he leads them like a thing
Made by some other deity than nature,
That shapes man better; and they follow him

Against us brats, with no less confidence,
Than boys pursuing summer butterflies,
Or butchers killing flies.

Men.
You've made good work,
You and your apron-men; that stood so much
Upon the voice of occupation, and
The breath of garlick-eaters.

Com.
He'll shake your Rome
About your ears.

Men.
As Hercules did shake
Down mellow fruit: so you have made fair work.

Bru.
But is this true, Sir?

Com.
Ay, and you'll look pale,
Before you find it other. All the regions
Do seemingly revolt, and who resist,
Are only mock'd for valiant ignorance,
And perish constant fools: who is't can blame him?
Your enemies and his find something in him.

Men.
We're all undone, unless
The noble man have mercy.

Com.
Who shall ask it?
The Tribunes cannot do't for shame; the people
Deserve such pity of him, as the wolf
Does of the shepherds: his best friends, if they
Shou'd say, Be good to Rome, they charge him even
As those should do that had deserv'd his hate,
And therein shew'd like enemies.

Men.
'Tis true,
If he were putting to my house the brand
That would consume it, I have not the face
To say, Beseech you, cease. You've made fair hands,
You and your crafts! you've crafted fair!

Com.
You've brought
A trembling upon Rome, such as was never
So incapable of help.

Sic.
Say not we brought it.

Men.
How? was it we? we lov'd him: but, like beasts,
And coward nobles, gave way to your clusters,
Who did hoot him out o'th' city.

Com.
But I fear
They'll roar him in again. Tullus Aufidius,
The second name of men, obeys his 'points,
As if he were his officer: desperation
Is all the policy, strength, and defence,
That Rome can make against them. Scene SCENE. Enter a Troop of Citizens.

Men.
Here come the clusters—
And is Aufidius with him?—You are they
That made the air unwholsome, when you cast
Your stinking, greasy caps, in hooting at
Coriolanus's exile. Now he's coming,
And not a hair upon a soldier's head,
Which will not prove a whip: as many coxcombs,
As you threw caps up, will he tumble down,
And pay you for your voices. 'Tis no matter,
If he should burn us all into one coal,
We have deserv'd it.

3 Cit.
'Faith, we hear fearful news.
For mine own part,
When I said banish him, I said 'twas pity.

2 Cit.
And so did I

1 Cit.

And so did I; and to say the truth, so did very many of us; that we did, we did for the best; and tho' we willingly consented to his banishment, yet it was against our will.* ^note

Com.
Y'are goodly things; you voices!—

Men.
You have made you good work,
You and your cry. Shall's to the capitol?

Com.
Oh, ay, what else? [Exeunt.

Sic.
Go, masters, get you home, be not dismay'd.
These are a side, that would be glad to have
This true, which they so seem to fear. Go home,
And shew no sign of fear.

1 Cit.

The gods be good to us! come, masters, let's home. I ever said we were i'th' wrong, when we banish'd him.

2 Cit.

So did we all; but come, let's home.

Bru.
I do not like this news.

Sic.
Nor I.

Bru.
Let's to the capitol; would half my wealth
Would buy this for a lie!

Sic.
Pray, let us go. [Exeunt Tribunes. Scene SCENE a camp, at a small distance from Rome. Enter Aufidius, with his lieutenant.

Auf.
Do they still fly to th' Roman?

Lieut.
I do not know what witchcraft's in him; but
Your soldiers use him as the grace 'fore meat,
Their talk at table, and their thanks at end;
And you are darken'd in this action, Sir,
Even by your own.

Auf.
I cannot help it, now,
Unless, by using means, I lame the foot
Of our design. He bears himself more proudly,
Even to my person, than I thought he would,
When first I did embrace him. Yet his nature
In that's no changling, and I must excuse
What cannot be amended.

Lieut.
Yet I with, Sir,
(I mean for your particular) you had not
Join'd in commission with him; but had borne
The action of your self, or else to him
Had left it solely.

Auf.
I understand thee well, and be thou sure,
When he shall come to his account, he knows not
What I can urge against him: though it seems,
And so he thinks, and is no less apparent
To th' vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly,
And shews good husbandry for the Volscians state,
Fights dragon-like, and does atchieve, as soon
As draw his sword; yet he hath left undone

That which shall break his neck, or hazard mine,
Whene'er we come to our account.† ^note

Lieut.
Sir, I beseech, think you he'll carry Rome?

Auf.
All places yield to him ere he sits down,
And the nobility of Rome are his:
The Tribunes are no soldiers; and their people
Will be as rash in the repeal, as hasty
To expel him thence.
First, he was
A noble servant to them, but he could not
Carry his honours even; whether pride,
Whether defect of judgment in him; but he has merit
To choak it in the utterance.
Come, let's away; when, Caius, Rome is thine,
Thou'rt poor'st of all, then shortly art thou mine. [Exeunt. End of the Fourth ACT. ACT V. Scene SCENE, Rome. Enter Menenius, Cominius, Sicinius, and Brutus.

Menenius.
No, I'll not go: you hear what he hath said,
Which was sometime his general, who lov'd him,
In a most dear particular. He call'd me father;
But what o'that? go you that banish'd him,
A mile before his tent fall down, and knee
The way into his mercy: nay, if he coy'd
To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home.

Com.
He would not seem to know me.

Men.
Do you hear?

Com.
Yet one time he did call me by my name:
I urg'd our old acquaintance, and the drops
That we have bled together. Coriolanus
He would not answer to; forbad all names;
He was a kind of nothing, titleless,
'Till he had forg'd himself a name, i'th' fire
Of burning Rome.

Men.
Why, so; you've made good work:
A pair of Tribunes, that have reck'd for Rome,
To make coals cheap: a noble memory!

Com.
I minded him how royal 'twas to pardon,
When it was least expected. He reply'd,
It was a bare† ^note petition of a state,
To one whom they had punish'd.

Men.
Very well, could he say less?

Com.
I offer'd to awaken his regard,
For's private friends. His answer to me was,
He could not stay to pick them, in a pile
Of noisome musty chaff. He said, 'twas folly,
For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt,
And still to nose th' offence.

Men.
For one poor grain
Or two; I'm one of those; his mother, wife,
His child, and this brave fellow, we're the grains;
You are the musty chaff, and you are smelt
Above the moon. We must be burnt, for you.‡ ^note

Sic.
Nay, pray be patient: if you refuse your aid,
In this so-never-needed help, yet do not
Upbraid's with our distress. But sure if you
Would be your country's pleader, your good tongue,
More than the instant army we can make,
Might stop our country-man.

Men.
No: I'll not meddle.

Sic.
Pray you go to him.

Men.
What should I do?

Bru.
Only make trial what your love can do,
For Rome, tow'rds Martius.

Men.
I'll undertake it:
I think he'll hear me. Yet to bite his lip,
And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me.
He was not taken well, he had not din'd.
The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then
We powt upon the morning, are unapt
To give or to forgive; but when we've stuff'd
These pipes, and these conveyances of blood,
With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls,
Than in our priest-like fasts: therefore I'll watch him,
'Till he be dieted to my request,
And then I'll set upon him.

Bru.
You know the very road into his kindness,
And cannot lose your way.

Men.
Good faith, I'll prove him,
Speed how it will. You shall ere long have knowledge
Of my success. [Exit.

Com.
He'll never hear him.

Sic.
Not?

Com
I tell you, he does sit in gold; his eye
Red as 'twould burn Rome; and his injury
The goaler to his pity. I kneel'd before him,
'Twas very faintly he said, Rise: dismiss'd me
Thus, with his speechless hand. What he would do,
He sent in writing after; what he would not,
Bound with an oath, not yield to new conditions:
So that all hope is vain, unless his mother,
And wife, who (as I hear) mean to solicit him,
Force mercy to his country: therefore, hence,
And with our fair intreaties haste them on. [Exeunt.

Scene SCENE, the Volscian camp. Enter Menenius to the watch or guard, discovered.

1 Watch.
Stay: whence are you?
Stand, and go back.

Men.
You guard like men, 'tis well. But by your leave,
I am an officer of state, and come
To speak with Coriolanus.

1 Watch.
Whence?

Men.
From Rome.

1 Watch.
You may not pass, you must return: our general
Will no more hear from thence.

Men.
Good my friends,
If you have heard your general talk of Rome,
And of his friends there, it is lots to blanks,
My name hath touch'd your ears; it is Menenius.

1 Watch.
Be it so, go back; the virtue of your name,
Is not here passable.

Men.
I tell thee, fellow,
Thy general is my lover: I have been
The book of his good acts, whence men have read
His fame unparallel'd, haply amplified:
Therefore, fellow, I must have leave to pass.

1 Watch.

'Faith, Sir, if you had told as many lies in his behalf, as you have utter'd words in your own, you should not pass here; therefore go back.

Men.

Has he din'd, canst thou tell? for I would not speak with him, 'till after dinner.

Cor.

What's the matter?

Men.

Now, you companion, I'll say an errand for you; you shall know now that I am in estimation; you shall perceive, that a jack-gardant cannot office me from my son Coriolanus; guess, by my entertainment with him, and swoon for what's to come upon thee.—The glorious gods sit in hourly synod, about thy particular prosperity, and love thee no worse

than thy old father Menenius does! O my son, my son! thou art preparing fire for us; look thee, here's water to quench it. I was hardly mov'd to come to thee, but being assured none but myself could move thee, I have been blown out of our gates, with sighs, and conjure thee to pardon Rome, and thy petitionary countrymen. The good gods asswage thy wrath, and turn the dregs of it upon this varlet here; this, who like a block, hath denied my access to thee—

Cor.

Away!§ ^note

Men.

How, away?

Cor.
Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs
Are servanted to others: though I owe
My revenge properly, remission lies
In Volscian breasts. That we have been familiar,
Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison, rather
Than pity note how much. Therefore, be gone;
Mine ears against your suits are stronger, than
Your gates against my force. Yet, for I loved thee,
Take this along; I writ it for thy sake, [Gives him a letter.
And would have sent it. Another word, Menenius,
I will not hear thee speak. [Exeunt. Manent the guard and Menenius.

1 Watch.

Now, Sir, is your name Menenius?

Men.

I neither care for th' world, nor your general: for such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, y'are so slight. He that hath a will to die by himself, fears it not from another: I say to you, as I was said to, Away!* ^note

Scene SCENE. A march. Re-enter Coriolanus, Aufidius, and Volscians.

Cor.
We will before the walls of Rome, to-morrow,
Set down our host. My partner in this action,
You must report to the Volscian lords how plainly
I've borne this business.

Auf.
Only their ends you have respected; stopt
Your ears against the general suit of Rome;
Never admitted private whisper; no,
Not with such friends that thought them sure of you.

Cor.
This last old man,
Whom with a crack'd heart I have sent to Rome,
Lov'd me above the measure of a father;
Nay, godded me, indeed. Their latest refuge,
Was to send him: for whose old love, I have
(Tho' I shew'd sow'rly to him) once more offer'd
The first conditions, which they did refuse,
And cannot now accept, to grace him only,
That thought he could do more; a very little
I've yielded to. Fresh embassie, and suits,
Nor from the state, nor private friends, hereafter,
Will I lend ear to. [Shout.
Ha! what shout is this?
Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow,
In the same time 'tis made? I will not— Enter Virgilia, Volumnia, Valeria, young Martius, with attendants, all in mourning.
My wife comes foremost, then the honour'd mould,
Wherein this trunk was fram'd, and in her hand
The grand-child to her blood. But out, affection!
All bond and privilege of nature break!
Let it be virtuous, to be obstinate. [Virgilia bends.
What is that curt'sie worth? or those dove's eyes,
Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not
Of stronger earth than others: my mother bows, [Volumnia bends.
As if Olympus to a mole-hill should
In supplication nod; and my young boy

Hath an aspect of intercession, which
Great nature cries, Deny not. Let the Volscians
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.

Vir.
My lord and husband!

Cor.
These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome.

Vir.
The sorrow that delivers us thus chang'd,
Makes you think so.

Cor.
Best of my flesh,
Forgive my tyranny, but do not say,
For that, Forgive our Romans.—O, a kiss
Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge!
Now, by the jealous queen of heav'n, that kiss
I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip
Hath virgin'd it, e'er since.—You gods! I prate,
And the most noble mother of the world,
Leave unsaluted: sink, my knee, i'th' earth; [Kneels.
Of thy deep duty more impression shew,
Than that of common sons.* ^note † ^note

Vol.
Thou art my warrior,
I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady? [Pointing to Valeria.

Cor.
The noble sister of Poplicola:
The moon of Rome; chaste as the icicle,

That's curdled by the frost from purest snow,
And hangs on Dian's temple: dear Valeria—* ^note

Vol.
This is a poor epitome of yours, [Shewing young Martius.
Which by th' interpretation of full time,
May shew like all yourself.

Cor.
The god of soldiers,
With the consent of supreme Jove, inform
Thy thoughts with nobleness, that thou may'st prove
To shame invulnerable, and stick i'th' wars,
Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw,
And saving those that eye thee!

Vol.
Your knee, sirrah.

Cor.
That's my brave boy.

Vol.
Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself,
Are suitors to you.

Cor.
I beseech you, peace:
Or if you'd ask, remember this, before;
The thing I have forsworn to grant, may never
Be held by you denial. Do not bid me
Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate
Again with Rome's mechanicks. Tell me not
Wherein I seem unnatural: desire not
T' allay my rages and revenges, with
Your colder reasons.

Vol.
Oh, no more: no more:
You've said you will not grant us any thing:
For we have nothing else to ask, but that
Which you deny already: yet we will ask,
That if we fail in our request, the blame
May hang upon your hardness; therefore, hear us.

Cor.
Aufidius, and you Volscians, mark; for we'll
Hear nought from Rome, in private.—Your request?

Vol.
Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment,
And state of bodies, would bewray what life
We've led, since thy exile. Think with thyself,
How more unfort'nate than all living women,
Are we come hither; since thy sight, which should

Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts,
Constrains them weep, and shake with fear and sorrow;
Making the mother, wife, and child, to see
The son, the husband, and the father, tearing
His country's bowels out: and to poor we
Thine enmity's most capital; thou barr'st us
Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort,
That all but we enjoy. For we must find
An eminent calamity, tho' we had
Our wish, which side shou'd win. For either thou
Must, as a foreign recreant,* ^note be led
With manacles along our streets, or else
Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin,
And bear the palm for having bravely shed
Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son,
If I can't persuade thee
Rather to shew a noble grace to both parts,
Than seek the end of one; thou shalt not sooner
March to assault thy country, than to tread
(Trust to't, thou shalt not) on thy mother's womb,
That brought thee to this world.

Virg.
Ay, and mine too,
That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name
Living to time.

Cor.
Not of a woman's tenderness to be,
Requires nor child nor woman's face to see;
I've sat, too long.

Vol.
Nay, go not from us thus:
If it were so, that our request did tend
To save the Romans, thereby to destroy
The Volscians whom you serve, you might condemn us
As poisoners of your honour. No; our suit
Is that you reconcile them: while the Volscians
May say, This mercy we have shew'd; the Romans,
This we receiv'd; and each on either side,
Give the all-hail to thee, and cry, Be blest,

For making up this peace! Thou know'st, great son,
The end of war's uncertain; but this certain,
That if thou conquer Rome, the benefit,
Which thou shalt thereby reap, is such a name,
Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses;
Whose chronicle thus writ—The man was noble—
But with his last attempt he wip'd it out,
Destroy'd his country, and his name remains,
To th' ensuing age, abhorr'd. Speak to me, son:
Why dost not speak?
Think'st thou it honourable for a nobleman,
Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speak you;
He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy;
Perhaps thy childishness will move him more,
Than can our reasons. There's no man in the world,
More bound to's mother, yet here he lets me prate,
Like one i'th' stocks. Thou'st never, in thy life,
Shew'd thy dear mother any courtesie;
When she (poor hen) fond of no second brood,
Has cluck'd thee to the wars, and safely home,
Loaden with honour. Say, my request's unjust,
And spurn me back; but if it be not so,
Thou art not honest, and the gods will plague thee,
That thou restrain'st from me the duty, which
To a mother's part belongs. He turns away:
Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees.
To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride,
Than pity to our prayers. Down; and end;
This is the last. So we will home to Rome,
And die among our neighbours: nay, behold us,
This boy, that cannot tell what he would have,
But kneels, and holds up hands for fellowship,
Does reason our petition with more strength,
Than thou hast to deny't. Come, let us go:
This fellow had a Volscian to his mother:
His wife is in Corioli, and this child
Like him by chance; yet give us our dispatch

I'm husht, until our city be afire,
And then I'll speak a little.* ^note

Cor.
Oh mother, mother!— [Holds her by the hands, silent.
What have you done? behold, the heav'ns do ope,
The gods look down, and this unnatural scene
They laugh at. O, mother, mother!
You've won a happy victory to Rome:† ^note
But for your son, believe it, oh, believe it,
Most dang'rously you have with him prevail'd,
If not most mortal to him. Let it come—
Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars,
I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius,
Were you in my stead, say, would you have heard
A mother less? or granted less, Aufidius?

Auf.
I too was mov'd.

Cor.
I dare be sworn you were;
And, Sir, it is no little thing to make
Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good Sir,
O mother! wife!

Auf.
I'm glad thou'st set thy mercy and thy honour
At difference in thee, out of that I'll work
Myself a former fortune. [Aside.

Cor.
Ay, by and by;
And you shall bear [To Volumnia, Virg. &c.
A better witness back, than words, which we
On like conditions will have counterseal'd.

Auf.
Ladies, you deserve
To have a temple built you: all the swords
In Italy, and her confederate arms,
Could not have made this peace.

Cor.
Come, enter with us. [A March. Exeunt.

Scene SCENE, the Forum. Enter Menenius and Sicinius.

Men.
See you yon coin o'th' capitol, yon corner stone?

Sic.
Why, what of that?

Men.

If it be possible for you to displace it, with your little finger, there is some hope the ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. But I say there is no hope in't; our throats are sentenc'd, and stay upon execution.

Sic.

Is't possible that so short a time can alter the condition of a man?

Men.

There is difference between a grub and a butterfly; yet your butterfly was a grub; this Martius is grown from man to dragon: he has wings; he's more than a creeping thing.

Sic.

He lov'd his mother, dearly.

Men.

So did he me; and he no more remembers his mother now, than an eight years old horse. The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes. When he walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground shrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corslet, with his eye: talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He sits in his state, as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done, is finish'd with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god, but eternity, and a heaven to throne in.

Sic.

Yes, mercy, if you report him truly.

Men.

I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his mother shall bring from him; there is no more mercy in him, than there is milk in a male tyger; that shall our poor city find; and all this is long of you.

Sic.

The gods be good unto us!

Men.

No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us. When we banish'd him, we respected not them: and he, returning to break our necks, they respect not us.

Enter Messenger.

Mes.
Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to your house;
The Plebeians have got your fellow-tribune,
And hale him up and down; all swearing, if
The Roman ladies bring not comfort home,
They'll give him death by inches. Enter another Messenger.

Sic.
What's the news?

Mes.
Good news, good news, the ladies have prevail'd,
The Volscians are dislodg'd, and Martius gone:
A merrier day did never yet greet Rome;
No, not th' expulsion of the Tarquins.

Sic.
Friend,
Art certain this is true? is it most certain?

Mes.
As certain as I know the sun is fire:
Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it?
Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide,
As the recomforted through th' gates.
Why, hark you; [Trumpets and shouts.
The trumpets, and the shouting Romans
Make the sun dance. Hark you. [A shout within.

Men.
This is good news?
I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia
Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians,
A city full: of tribunes, such as you,
A sea and land full. You've pray'd well, to-day:
This morning, for ten thousand of your throats,
I'd not have given a doit. Hark how they joy. [Sound still, with the shouts.

Sic.
First, the gods bless you, for your tidings! next,
Accept my thankfulness.

Mes.
Sir, we have all great cause to give great thanks.

Sic.
They're near the city?

Mes.
Almost at point to enter.

Sic.
We'll meet them, and help the joy. [Exeunt.

Scene SCENE, Antium. A march. Enter Tullus Aufidius, with Attendants.

Auf.
Go tell the lords o'th' city, I am here:
Deliver them this paper; having read it,
Bid them repair to the market-place, where I,
Even in theirs, and in the commons ears,
Will vouch the truth of it. He, I accuse,
The city ports by this hath enter'd, and
Intends t' appear before the people, hoping
To purge himself with words. Dispatch. Enter three or four conspirators of Aufidius's faction.
Most welcome!

1 Con.
How is it with our general?

Auf.
Even so,
As with a man by his own alms impoison'd,
And with his charity slain.

2 Con.
Most noble Sir,
If you do hold the same intent, wherein
You wish'd us parties; we'll deliver you
Of your great danger.

Auf.
Sir, I cannot tell;
We must proceed, as we do find the people.

3 Con.
The people will remain uncertain, whilst
'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either,
Makes the survivor heir of all.

Auf.
I know it;
And my pretext to strike at him admits
A good construction.
Being banish'd Rome, he came unto my hearth,
Presented to my knife his throat; I took him,
Made him joint servant with me; gave him way,
In all his own desires; nay, let him chuse
Out of my files, his projects to accomplish,
My best and freshest men; serv'd his designments,
In mine own person; holp to reap the fame,
Which he did make all his; and took some pride
To do myself this wrong; 'till at the last,
I seem'd his follower, not partner; and

He wag'd† ^note me with his countenance, as if
I had been mercenary.* ^note

1 Con.
So he did, my lord:
The army marvell'd at it, and, at last,
When he had carried Rome, and that we look'd
For no less spoil, than glory—

Auf.
There was it:
For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him:
At a few drops of women's rheum, which are
As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour
Of our great action; therefore, shall he die,
And I'll renew me, in his fall.
But, hark. [Drums and trumpets sound, with great shouts of the people.

1 Con.
Your native town you enter'd like a post,
And had no welcomes home, but he returns,
Splitting the air with noise.

Auf.
Say no more,
Here come the lords. Enter the lords of the city.

All Lords.
You are most welcome home.

Auf.
I have not deserv'd it.
But, worthy lords, have you with heed perus'd
What I have written?

All.
We have.

1 Lord.
And grieve to hear it.
What faults he made before the last, I think
Might have found easy fines: but there to end
Where he was to begin, and give away
The benefit of our levies, answering us
With our own charge, making a treaty, where
There was a yielding, admits no excuse.

Auf.
He approaches; you shall hear him.

Scene SCENE. Enter Coriolanus.

Cor.
Hail, lords; I am return'd, your soldier;
No more infected with my country's love,
Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting
Under your great command. You are to know,
That prosperously I have attempted, and
With bloody passage led your wars, even to
The gates of Rome: our spoils we have brought home,
Do more than counterpoise, a full third part,
The charges of the action. We've made peace,
With no less honour to the Antiates,
Than shame to th' Romans: and we here deliver,
Subscribed by the consuls and patricians,
Together with the seal o'th' senate, what
We have compounded on.

Auf.
Read it not, noble lords:
But tell the traitor, in the highest degree,
He hath abus'd your powers.

Cor.
Traitor!—how now!—

Auf.
Ay, traitor, Martius.

Cor.
Martius!—

Auf.
Ay, Martius, Caius Martius; dost thou think
I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name
Coriolanus, in Corioli?
You lords, and head o'th' state, perfidiously
He has betray'd your business, and given up,
For certain drops of salt, your city Rome:
I say your city, to his wife and mother;
Breaking his oath and resolution, like
A twist of rotten silk, never admitting
Counsel o'th' war; but at his nurse's tears,
He whin'd and roar'd away your victory,
That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart,
Look'd wond'ring each at other.

Cor.
Hear'st thou, Mars?

Auf.
Name not the god, thou boy of tears.

Cor.
Ha!

Auf.
No more.

Cor.
Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart
Too great for what contains it. Boy? O slave?—
* ^notePardon me, lords, 'tis the first time I ever
Was forc'd to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords,
Must give this cur the lie; and his own notion,
Who wears my stripes imprest upon him, that
Must bear my beating to his grave, shall join
To thrust the lie unto him.

1 Lord.
Peace, both, and hear me speak.

Cor.
Cut me to pieces, Volscians, men and lads,
Stain all your edges in me. Boy? false hound!—
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
That like an eagle in a dove-coat, I
Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli.
Alone I did it. Boy?—

Auf.
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 Con.
Let him die for't.

2 Lord.
Peace—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.

Cor.
O that I had him,
With six Aufidius's, or more; his tribe;
To use my lawful sword—

Auf.
Insolent villain!

All Con.† ^note
Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him. [The conspirators all draw, and kill Martius, who falls, and Aufidius stands on him.

Lords.
Hold, hold, hold, hold.

Auf.
My noble masters, hear me speak.
My lords, when you shall know (as in this rage
Provok'd by him, I 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 coarse, that ever herald
Did follow to his urn.

Auf.
My rage is gone,* ^note
And I am struck with sorrow: take him up:
Help three o'th' chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.
Beat thou the drum that it speak mournfully:
Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he
Hath widowed and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail the injury;
Yet he shall have a noble memory. † ^note[Exeunt, bearing the body of Martius. A dead march sounded.

Introductory matter

Title page TWELFTH NIGHT: OR, WHAT YOU WILL. A COMEDY, by SHAKESPEARE, AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRES-ROYAL. Regulated from the PROMPT-BOOK. With PERMISSION of the MANAGERS, By Mr. HOPKINS, Prompter. An INTRODUCTION, and NOTES Critical and Illustrative, ARE ADDED, BY THE AUTHORS of the DRAMATIC CENSOR. LONDON: Printed for JOHN BELL, near Exeter-Exchange, in the Strand; and C. ETHERINGTON, at York. MDCCLXXIII.

INTRODUCTION.

TWELFTH NIGHT: OR, WHAT YOU WILL. This play, which might very properly borrow a title from another of our Author's pieces—the Comedy of Errors—is in its plot very complicate, irregular, and in some places incredible. The grave scenes are graceful and familiar: the comic ones full charged with humour; but rather of the obsolete kind.—Malvolio's ridiculous self-sufficiency is displayed in a most masterly manner: Sir Toby and Sir Andrew keep pace with him; and Viola, though romantic in her love, is delicately sustained. Very few pieces have more spirit than Twelfth Night, or more pleasingly unravel in their catastrophe, an intanglement of characters, and circumstances. Action must render it more pleasing than perusal.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

[Curio], [Servant], [Officer 1], [Officer 2], [Priest]

Priests, Sailors, Officers, and other Attendants.

Drury-Lane.	Covent-Garden.
Orsino,	Mr. Jefferson.	Mr. Hull.
Sebastian,	Mr. Cautherly.	Mr. Wroughton.
Antonio,	Mr. Davies.	Mr. Gardner.
Valentine,	Mr. Wheeler.
Sir Toby Belch,	Mr. Love.	Mr. Dunstall.
Sir Andrew Ague-cheek [Sir Andrew Aguecheek],	Mr. Dodd.	Mr. Woodward.
A Sea-Captain,	Mr. Wright.	Mr. Fox.
Fabian,	Mr. Waldron.	Mr. Lewes.
Malvolio,	Mr. King.	Mr. Yates.
Clown [Feste],	Mr. Vernon.	Mr. Dyer.
Olivia,	Mrs. Abington.	Mrs. Mattocks.
Viola,	Miss Younge.	Mrs. Yates.
Maria,	Mrs. Egerton.	Mrs. Gardner.

SCENE, a City on the Coast of Illyria.

Main text ACT I. Scene SCENE the Palace. Duke, Curio, and Lords, discovered. [Soft music plays.]

Duke.
If music be the food of love, play on* ^note;
Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die. [Music again.
That strain again; it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear, like the sweet south,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour. [Music again.] Hush! no more;
'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before† ^note






.

Cur.
Will you go hunt, my Lord?

Duke.
What, Curio?

Cur.
The hart.

Duke.
Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:
O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought she purg'd the air of pestilence;
That instant was I turn'd into a hart,
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds* ^note,
E'er since pursue me. How now, what news from her? Enter Valentine.

Val.
So please my lord, I might not be admitted,
But from her handmaid do return this answer:
The element itself, till seven years hence,
Shall not behold her face at ample view;
But like a cloystress she will veiled walk,
And water once a day her chambers round,
With eye-offending brine: all this to season
A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh
And lasting, in her sad remembrance still.

Duke.
O! she, that hath a heart of that fine frame,
To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else,
That live in her!
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers,
Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with bowers. [Exeunt. Scene SCENE the street. Enter Viola, and a Captain.

Vio.
What country, Sir, is this?

Cap.
Illyria, lady.

Vio.
And what should I do in Illyria?
My brother is in Elysium.
Perchance he is not drown'd.

Cap.
It is perchance that you yourself were sav'd.

Vio.
O my poor brother! so perchance may he be.

Cap.
True, madam: and to comfort you with chance,
Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
When you, and that poor number sav'd with you,
Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
Most provident in peril, bind himself
(Courage and hope both teaching him the practice)
To a strong mast that liv'd upon the sea;
Where like Arion on the dolphin's back,
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves.
So long as I could see.

Vio.
Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
The like of him. And knowest thou this country?

Cap.
Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born
Not three hours travel from this very place.

Vio.
Who governs here?

Cap.
A noble duke, in nature,
As in his name.

Vio.
What is his name?

Cap.
Orsino.

Vio.
Orsino! I have heard my father name him:
He was a bachelor, then.

Cap.
And so is now, or was so, very late;
For but a month ago I went from hence,
And then 'twas fresh in murmur (as you know
What great ones do, the less will prattle of)
That he did seek the love of fair Olivia.

Vio.
What's she?

Cap.
A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count,
That dy'd some twelve months since, then leaving her,
In the protection of his son, her brother,
Who shortly also dy'd: for whose dear love,
They say, she hath abjur'd the company
And sight of men.

Vio.
O that I serv'd that lady,
And't might not be deliver'd to the world,

'Till I had made my own occasion mellow
What my estate is* ^note!

Cap.
That were hard to compass;
Because she will admit no kind of suit;
No, not the duke's.

Vio.
There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain;
And tho' that nature with a beauteous wall
Doth oft close in pollution; yet of thee
I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits
With this thy fair and outward character.
I pr'ythee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
Conceal me what I am, and be my aid,
For such disguise as haply shall become
The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke;
Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him† ^note;
It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing,
And speak to him in many sorts of music,
That will allow me very worth his service.
What else may hap, to time I will commit,
Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.

Cap.
Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be:
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see!

Vio.
I thank thee; lead me on. [Exeunt. Scene SCENE Olivia's house. ‡ ^noteEnter Sir Toby and Maria.

Sir Tob.

What a plague means my neice to take the death of her brother, thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life.

Mar.

By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in,

earlier a-nights; your neice, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.

Sir To.

Why, let her except, as before excepted.

Mar.

Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.

Sir To.

Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am; these clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots, too; if they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps.

Mar.

That quaffing and drinking will undo you; I heard my lady talk of it, yesterday; and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night here, to be her wooer.

Sir To.

Who, Sir Andrew Ague-cheek?

Mar.

Ay, he.

Sir To.

He's as tall a man as any in Illyria.

Mar.

What's that to th' purpose?

Sir To.

Why, he has three thousand ducats, a year.

Mar.

Ay, but he'll have but a year, in all those ducats: he's a very fool and a prodigal.

Sir To.

Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o'th'violde-gambo, and speaks three or four languages, word for word, without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature.

Mar.

He hath indeed—almost natural; for besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and but that he hath the gift of a coward, to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a grave.

Sir To.

By this hand, they are scoundrels and substractors, that say so of him. Who are they?

Mar.

They that add moreover, he's drunk nightly, in your company.

Sir To.

With drinking healths to my neice: I'll drink to her as long as there is a passage in my throat, and drink in Illyria. He's a coward and a kestrel* ^note, that will not drink to my neice, 'till his brains turn o'th' toe, like a parish-top. What,

wench?* ^note Castiliano volto! for here comes Sir Andrew Ague cheek.