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.

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