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.

Previous section

Next section