Martius,
with his arm in a scarf.
Cominius.
If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work,
Thou'lt not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it,
Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles;
Where great patricians shall attend, and shrug;
I'th' end admire; hear more; where the dull tribunes,
That with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours,
Shall say against their hearts, We thank the Gods,
Our Rome hath such a soldier.
Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast,
Having fully din'd before.
Enter Titus Lartius.
Lar.
O general,
Here is the steed, we the caparison* note:
Hadst thou beheld—
Mar.
Pray now, no more: my mother,
Who has a charter to extol her blood,
When she does praise me, grieves me: I have done
As you have done, that's what I can, induc'd
As you have also been, that's for my country† note;
Com.
You shall not be
The grave of your deserving; Rome must know
The value of her own: 'twere a concealment,
Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement,
To hide your doings, and to silence that,
Which to the spire and top of praises vouch'd,
Would seem but modest: therefore, I beseech you,
-- 245 --
(In sign of what you are, not to reward
What you have done) before our army hear me.
Mar.
I have some wounds upon me, and they smart,
To hear themselves remembered.
Com.
Should they not,
Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude,
And tent themselves with death: of all the horses,
Whereof we've ta'en good, and good store, of all
The treasure in the field atchiev'd, and city,
We render you the tenth, to be ta'en forth,
Before the common distribution,
At your own choice.
Mar.
I thank you, general* note:
But cannot make my heart consent to take
A bribe to pay my sword: I do refuse it.
[A long flourish, and a shout.
May these same instruments, which you profane,
Never sound more! when drums and trumpets shall
I'th' field prove flatterers, let camps as cities
Be made of false-fac'd soothing. When steel grows
Soft as the parasite's silk, let hymns be made
An overture for th'wars!—[Shout and flourish.]—No more, I say;
For that I have not wash'd my nose that bled,
Or foil'd some feeble wretch, which without note
Here's many else have done; you shout me forth,
In acclamations hyperbolical,
As if I lov'd my little should be dieted,
In praises sauc'd with lies† note.
Com.
Too modest are you:
More cruel in your good report, than grateful
To us, that give you truly: therefore be it known,
-- 246 --
As to us, to all the world, that Caius Martius
Wears this war's garland:
For what he did before Corioli, call him,
With all th' applause and clamour of the host,
Caius Martius Coriolanus* note. Bear th' addition nobly, ever!
[Flourish and shout.
Mar.
I will go wash:
And when my face is fair, you shall perceive
Whether I blush or no.
Com.
So, to our tent:
Where, ere we do repose us, we will write
To Rome of our success.
Mar.
The Gods begin to mock me: I that but now
Refus'd most princely gifts, am bound to beg
Of my lord-general.
Com.
Take't, 'tis yours: what is't?
Mar.
I sometime lay here in Corioli,
And at a poor man's house: he us'd me kindly.
He cry'd to me: I saw him prisoner:
But then Aufidius was within my view,
And wrath o'er-whelm'd my pity: I request you
To give my poor host freedom† note.
Com.
O well begg'd!
Were he the butcher of my son, he should
Be free as is the wind: deliver him, Titus.
Lar.
Martius, his name?
Mar.
By Jupiter, forgot:
I'm weary; yea, my memory is tir'd:
Have we no wine here?
Com.
Go we to our tent;
The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time
It should be look'd to: come.
[A march.
[Exeunt‡ note.
-- 247 --
Scene
SCENE a street in Rome.
Enter Menenius, with Sicinius and Brutus.
Men.
The Augur tells me we shall have news, tonight.
Bru.
Good or bad?
Men.
Not according to the prayer of the people,
for they love not Martius.
Sic.
Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.
Men.
Pray you, whom does the wolf love?
Sic.
The lamb.
Men.
Ay, to devour him, as the hungry plebeians
would the noble Martius. You two are old men,
tell me one thing that I shall ask you.
Both.
Well, Sir.
Men.
In what enormity is Martius poor, that you
two have not in abundance?
Bru.
He's poor in no one fault, but stor'd with all.
Sic.
Especially in pride.
Bru.
And topping all others in boast.
Men.
This is strange, now! do you two know how
you are censur'd here in the city, I mean of us o'th'
right-hand file, do you?
Bru.
Why—how are we censur'd?
Men.
Because you talk of pride now, will you not
be angry?
Both.
Well, well, Sir, well.
Men.
Why, 'tis no great matter—give your dispositions
the reins, and be angry at your pleasures—
you blame Martius for being proud.
Bru.
We do it alone, Sir.
Men.
I know you can do very little alone, for
your helps are many, or else your actions would
grow wondrous single; your abilities are too infant-like,
for doing much alone—oh that you would
turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and
make but an interior survey of your good selves!
Oh that you could!
-- 248 --
Bru.
What then, Sir?
Men.
Why then you should discover a brace of as
unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates, alias
fools, as any in Rome.
Sic.
Menenius, you are known well enough, too.
Men.
I am known to be a humorous patrician,
and one that loves a cup of hot wine, with not a drop
of allaying Tiber in't: one that converses more with
the buttock of the night, than with the forehead of
the morning. What I think, I utter, and spend my
malice with my breath. I can't say your worships
have deliver'd the matter well, when I find the ass
in compound with the major part of your syllables;
and tho' I must be content to bear with those that
say you are reverend grave men, yet they lie deadly
that tell you, you have good faces.
Bru.
Come, Sir, come, we know you, well
enough.
Men.
You know neither me, yourselves, nor any
thing; you are ambitious for poor knaves caps and
legs: you wear out a good wholesome forenoon, in
hearing a cause between an orange-wife and a fosset-seller,
and then adjourn a controversy of three-pence,
to a second day of audience. You are a pair of
strange ones.
Bru.
Come, come, you are well understood to be
a perfecter giber for the table, than a necessary
bencher in the Capitol.
Men.
Our very priests must become mockers, if
they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects, as you
are; when you speak best unto the purpose, it is not
worth the wagging of your beards, and your beards
deserve not so honourable a grave as to stuff a
botcher's cushion, or to be intomb'd in an ass's
pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying, Martius is
proud; who in a cheap estimation, is worth all your
predecessors since Deucalion, though peradventure
some of the best of them were hereditary hangmen.
Good e'en to your worships; more of your conversation
would infect my brain, being the herdsmen of
-- 249 --
the beastly plebeians. I will be bold to take my
leave of you* note.
Scene
SCENE. Enter Volumnia, Virgilius, and Valeria.
How now, my as fair as noble ladies, and the moon,
were she earthly, no nobler, whither do you follow
your eyes so fast?
Vol.
Honourable Menenius, my boy Martius approaches;
for the love of Juno let's go.
Men.
Ha! Martius coming home!
Vol.
Ay, worthy Menenius, and with most prosperous
approbation.
Men.
Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee—
hoo, Martius coming home!
Both.
Nay, 'tis true.
Vol.
Look, here's a letter from him, the State
hath another, his wife another, and I think there's
one at home for you.
Men.
I will make my very house reel, to-night: A
letter for me!
Vir.
Yes, certainly, there is a letter for you, I saw't.
Men.
A letter for me! it gives me an estate of
seven years health; in which time I will make a lip
at the physician: the most sovereign prescription in
Galen is but empiric, and, to this preservation, of
no better report than a horse-drench. Is he not
wounded? he was wont to come home wounded.
Vir.
Oh, no, no, no.
Vol.
Oh, he is wounded, I thank the Gods for't.
Men.
So do I too, if he be not too much; brings
he a victory in his pockets, the wounds become
him.
Vol.
On's brows, Menenius; he comes the third
time home with the oaken garland.
Men.
Hath he disciplin'd Aufidius, soundly?
-- 250 --
Vol.
Titus Lartius writes they fought together;
but Aufidius got off.
Men.
And 'twas time for him, too, I'll warrant
him that; if he had staid by him, I would not have
been so fidius'd, for all the chests in Corioli, and the
gold that's in them. Is the senate possest of this?
Vol.
Good ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes: the
senate has letters from the general, wherein he gives
my son the whole name of the war: he hath in this
action out-done his former deeds, doubly.
Vol.
In truth there's wondrous things spoke of
him.
Men.
Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not
without his true purchasing.
Vir.
The Gods grant them true!
Vol.
True? pow, waw.
Men.
True? I'll be sworn they are true. Where
is he wounded? God save their good worships!
Martius is coming home: he has more cause to be
proud:—where is he wounded?
Val.
I'th' shoulder, and 'th' left arm; there will
be large cicatrices* note to shew the people, when he
shall stand for his place. He receiv'd, in the repulse
of Tarquin, seven hurts i'th' body.
Men.
One i'th' neck, and one too i'th' thigh;
there's nine, that I know.
Vol.
He had, before his last expedition, twenty-five
wounds upon him.
Men.
Now 'tis twenty-seven: every gash was an
enemy's grave. [A shout and flourish.] Hark, the
trumpets.
Vol.
These are the ushers of Martius; before him
He carries noise, behind him he leaves tears:
Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie,
Which being advanc'd declines, and then men die
note
-- 251 --
The Triumph.
Trumpets sound. Enter Cominius the general, and Titus
Lartius; between them Coriolanus, crown'd with
an oaken garland, with captains and soldiers, and
a herald.
Com.
Welcome to Rome, renown'd Coriolanus!
[A flourish.
Cor.
No more of this, it does offend my heart;
Pray now no more.
Com.
Look, Sir, your mother.
Cor.
Oh!
You have, I know, petition'd all the Gods,
For my prosperity.
[Kneels.
Vol.
Nay, my soldier, up:
My gentle Martius, my worthy Caius,
By deed-atchieved honour newly nam'd,
What is it, Coriolanus, must I call thee!
But oh, thy wife—
Cor.
My gracious silence, hail!
Would'st thou have laugh'd, had I come coffin'd home,
That weep'st to see me triumph? ah, my dear,
Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear,
And mothers that lack sons.
Men.
Now the Gods crown thee!
Cor.
And live you, yet?
[To Val.
Vol.
I know not where to turn. O welcome home;
And welcome, general! y'are welcome all.
Men.
A hundred thousand welcomes: I could weep,
And I could laugh; I'm light and heavy; welcome!
A curse begin at very root on's heart,
That is not glad to see thee! You are three
That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith of men,
We've some old crab-trees, here at home, that will not
Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors!
-- 252 --
We call a nettle, but a nettle; and
The faults of fools, but folly.
Com.
Ever right.
Give way there, and go on.
Cor.
Your hand, and yours.
Ere in our own house I do shade my head,
The good patricians must be visited,
From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings,
But with them charge of honour.
Vol.
I have lived,
To see inherited my very wishes,
And buildings of my fancy; only one thing
Is wanting, which I doubt not but our Rome
Will cast upon thee.
Cor.
Know, good mother, I
Had rather be their servant, in my way,
Than sway with them, in theirs.
Com.
On, to the Capitol.
[A grand march.
[Exeunt in state, as before.
Scene
SCENE a street. Enter Brutus and Sicinius.
* noteBru.
All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights
Are spectacled to see him. Your pratling nurse
Into a rapture lets her baby cry,
While she chats him: stalls, bulks, windows,
Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges hors'd
With variable complexions; all agreeing
In earnestness to see him. Our veil'd dames
Commit the war of white and damask, in
Their nicely gawded cheeks, to th' 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.
-- 253 --
Bru.
Then our office may,
During his power, go sleep.
Sic.
He cannot temp'rately transport his honours,
From where he should begin and end, but will
Lose those he'ath won.
Bru.
In that there's comfort.
I heard him swear,
Were he to stand for consul, never would he
Appear i'th' market-place, nor on him put
* noteThe napless vesture of humility,
Nor shewing, as the manner is, his wounds
To th' people, beg their stinking breaths.
Sic.
I wish no better,
Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it
In execution.
Bru.
'Tis most like he will.
Sic.
It shall be to him then, as our good wills;
A sure destruction.
Enter the Messenger.
Bru.
What's the matter?
Mes.
You're sent for to the Capitol: 'tis thought
That Martius shall be consul: I have seen
The dumb men throng to see him, and the blind
To hear him speak; the matrons flung their gloves,
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs,
Upon him as he pass'd; the nobles bended
As to Jove's statue, and the commons made
A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts:
I never saw the like.
Bru.
Let's to the Capitol,
And carry with us ears for th' time,
But hearts for the event.
Sic.
Have with you. [A flourish.]
[Exeunt.
-- 254 --
Scene
SCENE the Senate-house.
Enter the patricians, and the tribunes of the peoples
Lictors before them; Coriolanus, Menenius, Cominius,
the consul: Sicinius and Brutus take their
places by themselves.
Men.
Having determin'd of the Volscians, it remains,
As the main point of this our after-meeting,
To gratify his noble service, that
Hath thus stood for his country. Therefore, please you,
Most reverend and grave elders, to desire
The present consul, and last general
In our well-found successes, to report
A little of that worthy work perform'd
By Caius Martius Coriolanus; whom
We meet here, both to thank, and to remember,
With honours like himself.
1 Sen.
Speak, good Cominius:
Leave nothing out for length, and make us think
Rather our state's defective for requital,
Than that we stretch it out. Masters o'th' people,
We do request your kindest ear, and after,
Your loving motion toward the common body,
To yield what passes here.
Sic.
We are convented
Upon a pleasing treaty, and have hearts
Inclinable to honour and advance
The theme of our assembly.
Bru.
Which the rather
We shall be blest to do, if he remember
A kinder value of the people, than
He hath hitherto priz'd them at.
Men.
That's off, that's off:
I would you rather had been silent: please you
To hear Cominius speak?
Bru.
Most willingly:
-- 255 --
But yet my caution was more pertinent,
Than the rebuke you give it.
Men.
He loves your people,
But tye him not to be their bedfellow.
Worthy Cominius, speak.
[Coriolanus rises, and offers to go away.
Nay, keep your place.
1 Sen.
Sit, Coriolanus; never shame to hear
What you have nobly done.
Cor.
Your honour's pardon:
I had rather have my wounds to heal again,
Than hear say how I got them.
Bru.
Sir, I hope
My words dis-bench'd you not.
Cor.
No, Sir; yet oft,
When blows have made me stay, I fled from words.
You sooth not, therefore hurt not; but your people,
I love them as they weigh.
Men.
Pray now, sit down.
Cor.
I had rather have one scratch my head i'th' sun,
When the alarum were struck, than idly sit
To hear my nothings monster'd.
[Exit Coriolanus.
Men.
Masters of the people,
Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter,
That's thousand to one good one, when you see
He had rather venture all his limbs for honour,
Than one of's ears to hear't? Proceed, Cominius.
Com.
I shall lack voice; the deeds of Coriolanus
Should not be utter'd feebly. It is held
That valour is the chiefest virtue, and
Most dignifies the haver: if it be,
The man I speak of cannot, in the world,
Be singly counter-pois'd. At sixteen years,
When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought:
Beyond the mark of others:
And in the brunt of seventeen battles, since,
* noteHe lurcht all swords o'th' garland. For this last,
-- 256 --
Before, and in Corioli, let me say
I cannot speak him home: he stopt the fliers,
And by his rare example made the coward
Turn terror into sport. As waves before
* noteA vessel under sail, so men obey'd,
And fell before his stern: his sword (death's stamp)
Where it did mark, it took from face to foot:
He was a thing of blood, whose very motion
Was tim'd with dying cries: alone he enter'd
The mortal gate o'th' city: aidless came off,
And with a sudden re-enforcement struck
Corioli, like a planet. Nor's this all;
For by and by the din of war 'gan pierce
His ready sense, where straight his doubled spirit
Requicken'd what in flesh was fatigate,
And to the battle came he; where he did
Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if
'Twere a perpetual spoil; and till we call'd
Both field and city ours, he never stood
To ease his breast with panting† note.
Men.
Worthy man!
1 Sen.
He cannot but with measure fill the honours
Which we devise him.
Com.
All our spoils he kick'd at,
And look'd upon things precious, as they were
The common muck o'th' world: he covets less
Than misery itself would give, rewards
His deeds with doing them, and is content
To spend his time to end it.
Men.
He's right noble,
Let him be call'd for.
Sen.
Call Coriolanus.
Com.
He doth appear.
-- 257 --
Enter Coriolanus.
Men.
The Senate, Coriolanus, are well pleas'd
To make thee Consul.
Cor.
I do owe them still
My life, and services.
Men.
It then remains
That you do speak to th' people.
Cor.
I beseech you,
Let me o'er-leap that custom; for I cannot
Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them,
For my wounds sake, to give their suffrages:
Please you that I may over-pass this doing.
Sic.
Sir, but the people too must have their voices,
Nor will they bate one jot of ceremony.
Men.
Put them not to't: pray fit you to the custom,
And take t'ye, as your predecessors have,
Your honour with the form.
Cor.
It is a part
That I shall blush in acting, and might well
Be taken from the people.
Bru.
Mark you that?
Cor.
To brag unto them, thus I did, and thus,
Shew them th' unaking fears, which I would hide,
As if I had receiv'd them for the hire
Of their breath only—
Men.
Do not stand upon't:—
We recommend t'ye, tribunes of the people,
Our purpose. To them, and to our noble consul
Wish we all joy and honour.
Sen.
To Coriolanus come all joy and honour!
[Flourish, then Exeunt.
Manent Sicinius and Brutus.
Bru.
You see how he intends to use the people.
Sic.
May they perceive's intent! he will require them,
As if he did contemn what he requested
Should be in them to give.
Bru.
Come, we'll inform them
-- 258 --
Of our proceedings here: on th' market place
I know they do attend us.
[Exeunt.
Scene
SCENE the Forum.
Enter seven or eight Citizens.
1 Cit.
Once for all, if he do require our voices,
we ought not to deny him.
2 Cit.
We may, Sir, if we will.
1 Cit.
We have power in ourselves to do it, but it
is a power that we have no power to do; for if he
shew us his wounds, and tell us his deeds, we are
to put our tongues into those wounds, and speak for
them: so, if he tells us his noble deeds, we must
also tell him of our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude
is monstrous, and for the multitude to be
ungrateful, were to make a monster of the multitude;
of the which we being members, should bring ourselves
to be monstrous members.
2 Cit.
And to make us no better thought of, a
little help will serve; for once when we stood up
about the corn, he himself stuck not to call us the
many-headed monster.
1 Cit.
We have been call'd so of many, not that
our heads are some brown, some black, some auburn,
some bald; but that our wits are so diversely
colour'd; and truly, I think, if all our wits were to
issue out of one scull, they would fly east, west,
north, south, and their consent of one direct way,
would be at once to all points o'th' compass.
2 Cit.
Think you so? which way do you judge
my wit would fly?
1 Cit.
Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another
man's will; 'tis strongly wedg'd up in a blockhead* note.
3 Cit.
Are you all resolved to give your voices;
but that's no matter, the greater part carries it: I
say, if he would incline to the people, there was
never a worthier man.
-- 259 --
Enter Coriolanus in a gown, with Menenius.
Here he comes, and in the gown of humility; mark
his behaviour: we are not to stay all together, but
to come by him where he stands, by one's, by two's,
and by three's. He's to make his requests by particulars,
wherein every one of us has a single honour,
in giving him our own voices with our own tongues:
therefore follow me, and I'll direct you how you
shall go by him.
All.
Content, content.
[Exit Citizens.
Men.
Oh Sir, you are not right; have you not known
The worthiest men have done't?
Cor.
What must I say?
I pray, Sir,—plague upon't, I cannot bring
My tongue to such a pace. Look, Sir,—my wounds—
I got them in my country's service, when
Some certain of your brethren roar'd, and ran
From noise of our own drums.
Men.
Oh me, the Gods!
You must not speak of that, you must desire them
To think upon you.
Cor.
Think upon me? hang em* note.
I would they would forget me.
Men.
You'll mar all.
I'll leave you: pray you speak to 'em, I pray you,
In wholsome manners.
[Exit.
Enter 1 and 2 Citizens.
Cor.
Bid them wash their faces,
And keep their teeth clean—so here comes a brace:
You know the cause, Sirs, of my standing here.
1 Cit.
We do, Sir; tell us what hath brought you to't.
-- 260 --
Cor.
Mine own desert.
2 Cit.
Your own desert?
Cor.
Ay, not mine own desire.
1 Cor.
How, not your own desire?
Cor.
No, Sir, 'twas never my desire yet to trouble
the poor with begging.
1 Cit.
You must think, if we give you any thing,
we hope to gain by you.
Cor.
Well then, I pray, your price o'th' consulship?
1 Cit.
The price is, to ask it kindly.
Cor.
Kindly, Sir, I pray let me ha't: I have
wounds to shew you, which shall be yours in private:
your good voice, Sir; what say you?
2 Cit.
You shall ha't, worthy Sir.
Cor.
A match, Sir; there's in all two worthy
voices begg'd: I have your alms, adieu.
1 Cit.
But this is something odd.
2 Cit.
An 'twere to give again:—but 'tis no matter.
[Exeunt.
Enter 3 and 4 Citizens.
Cor.
Pray you, now, if it mayst and with the tune
of your voices that I may be consul, I have here the
customary gown.
3 Cit.
You have deserved nobly of your country,
and you have not deserved nobly.
Cor.
Your ænigma?
3 Cit.
You have been a scourge to her enemies;
you have been a rod to her friends; you have not
indeed loved the common people.
Cor.
You should account me the more virtuous,
that I have not been common in my love; but I will,
Sir, flatter my sworn brother, the people, to earn a
dearer estimation of them: and since the wisdom of
their choice is, rather to have my cap, than my heart,
I will practise the insinuating nod, and be off to
them, most counterfeitly; that is, Sir, I will counterfeit
the bewitchment of some popular man, and
-- 261 --
give it bountifully to the desirers: therefore, 'beseech
you I may be consul.
4 Cit.
We hope to find you our friend: and
therefore give you our voices heartily.
3 Cit.
You have received many wounds for your
country.
Cor.
I will not seal your knowledge with shewing
them. I will make much of your voices, and
so trouble you no further.
Both.
The Gods give you joy, Sir, heartily!
[Exeunt.
Cor.
Most sweet voices—
Better it is to die, better to starve,
Than crave the hire, which first we do deserve.
Enter 5 and 6 Citizens.
Here come more voices.
Your voices—for your voices I have fought,
Watch'd for your voices; for your voices, bear
Of wounds two dozen and odd: battles thrice six
I've seen, and heard of:—your voices:
Indeed I would be consul.
5 Cit.
He has done nobly, and cannot go without
any honest man's voice.
6 Cit.
Therefore let him be consul: the Gods
give him joy, and make him a good friend to the
people!
Both.
Amen, amen, God save thee, noble consul!
[Exeunt.
Cor.
Worthy voices!
Enter Menenius, with Brutus and Sicinius.
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.
-- 262 --
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,
-- 263 --
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.
-- 264 --
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.
John Bell [1774], Bell's Edition of Shakespeare's Plays, As they are now performed at the Theatres Royal in London; Regulated from the Prompt Books of each House By Permission; with Notes Critical and Illustrative; By the Authors of the Dramatic Censor (Printed for John Bell... and C. Etherington [etc.], York) [word count] [S10401].
