Two boys bearing incense.

An officer with the Roman Eagle.

Two boys bearing incense.

Six dancing virgins with baskets of flowers.

Four priests with Torches

Eight senators.

Two officers.

Four trumpets.

Six lictors with fasces.

Two standard bearers, with Pegasus and the Ram.

Six soldiers.

A standard bearer with Fame.

Two officers with Trophies.

An officer.

A Bier, laden with spoils, supported by four soldiers.

A captive General in chains

Four soldiers with spears.

The Choir, consisting of

Four boys,

Six virgins,

Eight men,

A standard bearer, with the small eagle,

Two fifes,

Two drums,

Six lictors with fasces,

Four officers with Trophies,

An officer,

A Bier, laden with spoils, supported by four soldiers,

A captive General in chains,

Six soldiers,

Two officers,

Two officers, one with a Mural, the other with a Civic Crown,

Two officers, one bearing a painting of the city of Corioli; the other, the word Corioli, on banners.

Six virgins,

Four matrons,

Valeria,

Virgilia,

Volumnia,

Six lictors with fasces,

Cominius,

Menenius,

Caius Marcius Coriolanus,

An officer with the Roman Eagle,

Two officers,

Six lictors with fasces,

Eight officers with Trophies,

Six soldiers with swords and shields,

Twelve soldiers with spears.

Mar.
No more of this, it does offend my heart;
Pray now no more.

Com.
Look, Sir, your mother.

Mar.
Oh!
You have, I know, petition'd all the Gods,
For my prosperity. [Kneels.

Vol.
Nay, my soldier, up:
My gentle Marcius, my worthy Caius,
By deed-atchieved honour newly nam'd,
What is it, Coriolanus, must I call thee!
But oh! thy wife—

Mar.
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.

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!
We call a nettle, but a nettle; and
The faults of fools, but folly.

Com.
Ever right.
Give way there, and go on.

Mar.
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.

Mar.
Know, good mother, I
Had rather be their servants, in my way,
Than sway with them, in theirs.

Com.
On, to the Capitol. [A grand march. [Exeunt in state, as before.

SCENE III. a Street. Enter Brutus and Sicinius.

Bru.
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
It shower and thunder with their caps and shouts:
I never saw the like; 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.

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
The 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 a Roman Officer.

Bru.
What's the matter?

Offi.
You're sent for to the Capitol: 'ts thought
That Marcius shall be consul:

Bru.
Let's to the Capitol.
And carry with us ears for th' time,
But hearts for the event.

Sic.
Have with you. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The Senate-house. Flourish. The Patricians, Caius Marcius Coriolanus, Menenius, Cominius, Sicinius, and Brutus.

Men.
Having determin'd of the Volscians, it remains,
Most reverend and grave elders, to desire
The present consul, and last general,
To report
A little of that worthy work perform'd

By Caius Marcius Coriolanus; whom
We meet here, both to thank, and to remember,
With honours like himself.
Worthy Cominius, speak. [Marcius rises, and offers to go away.
Sit, Coriolanus; never shame to hear
What you have nobly done,

Mar.
Your honour's pardon:
I had rather have my wounds to heal again,
Than hear say how I got them.

Men.
Pray now, sit down.

Mar.
I had rather have one scratch my head i'th' sun,
When the al'rum were struck, that idly sit
To hear my nothings monster'd. [Exit Marcius.

Men.
Masters of the people,
Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter,
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,
He lurcht all swords o'th' garland. For this last,
Before, and in Corioli, let me say

I cannot speak him home:
Alone he enter'd
The mortal gate o'th' city: aidless came off,
And with a sudden re-inforcement 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

Men.
Worthy man!

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 spend it.

Men.
He's right noble,
Let him be call'd for. [Exit Roman Officer.

Com.
He doth appear. Enter Coriolanus and a Roman Officer.

Men.
The Senate, Coriolanus, are well pleas'd
To make thee Consul.

Mar.
I do owe them still
My life, and services.

Men.
It then remains
That you do speak to th' people.

Mar.
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 suffrage:
Please you that I may pass this doing.

Sic.
Sir, the people 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.

Mar.
It is a part
That I shall blush in acting, and might well
Be taken from the people.

Bru.
Mark you that?

Mar.
To brag unto them, thus I did, and thus,
Shew them th' unaking scars, 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.

Com.
To Coriolanus come all joy and honour! Flourish. [Exeunt.

SCENE V. A Street. Enter Citizensr

2. Cit.

Once for all, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him.

1. Cit.

We may, Sir, if we will.

2. 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.

1 Cit.

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. [Exeunt Citizens. Enter Marcius in a gown, with Menenius.

Men.
Oh Sir, you are not right; have you not known

The worthiest men have done't?

Mar.
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.

Mar.
Think upon me? hang 'em.
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.

Mar.
So here come a brace:
You know the cause, Sirs, of my standing here.

1 Cit.
We do, Sir; tell us what hath brought you to't.

Mar.
Mine own desert.

2 Cit.
Your own desert?

Mar.
Ay, not mine own desire?

1 Cit.
How, not your own desire?

Mar.

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.

Mar.

Well then, I pray, your price o'th' consulship?

1 Cit.

The price is, to ask it kindly.

Mar.

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.

Mar.

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.

Mar.
Most sweet voices—
Better it is to die, better to starve,
Than crave the hire, which first we do deserve.
Here come more voices. Enter the other Citizens.
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.

3 Cit.

He has done nobly, and cannot go without any honest man's voice.

4 Cit.

Therefore let him be consul: the Gods give him joy, and make him a good friend to the people!

All.
Amen, amen. Save thee, noble consul! [Exeunt Citizens

Mar.
Worthy voices!

Enter Menenius, 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.

Mar.
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.

Mar.
Where? at the senate-house?

Sic.
There, Coriolanus.

Mar.
May I then change these garments?

Sic.
Sir, you may.

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

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

Bru.
We stay here for the people.

Sic.
Fare you well. [Exit 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 all the 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, downright

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 received 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:
I would be consul, says he; aged custom,
But by your voices, will not so permit me;
Your voices, theresore: 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?

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.

Bru.
Get you hence instantly, and tell your 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.
Enforce his pride, and his old hate to you.
Say, you chose him more after our commandment,
Than guided by your own affections.
Lay the fault on us.

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; we will. Huzza! [Exeunt. End of the Second Act.

ACT III. SCENE I. A Street. Enter Cominius, Marcius, and Menenius.

Com.
Tullus Aufidius then had made new head?

Mar.
So then the Volscians stand but as at first,
Ready when time shall prompt them, to make inroad upon's again. Enter Sicinius and Brutus.

Mar.
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.

Mar.
Hah!—what is that!—

Bru.
It will be dangerous to go on—

Mar.
What makes this change?

Men.
The matter?

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

Bru.
Cominius, no.

Mar.
Have I had children's voices?

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

Bru.
The people are incens'd against him.

Mar.
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.

Mar.
It is a purpos'd thing, and grows by plot,
To curb the will of the nobility.

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.

Mar.
Why, this was known before.

Bru.
Not to them all.

Mar.
Have you inform'd them, since?

Bru.
How! I inform them!

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

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

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

Men.
Well, no more—

Mar.
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?

Mar.
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.

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

Com.
Well—on to th' market-place.

Mar.
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.

Mar.
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.

Mar.
Thou wretch! despight o'erwhelm thee!
What should the people do with these bold 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.

Bru.
Manifest treason—

Sic.
This a consul? no.

Sic.
Go, call the people, in whose name myself
Attach thee as a traiterous innovator:
A foe to th' public weal. Enter Citizens.
Obey, I charge thee,
And follow to thine answer. [Advancing towards Marcius.

Mar.
Hence, or I shall shake thy bones
Out of thy garments.

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, Marcius is worthy
Of present death.

Sic.
Bear him to the rock Tarpeian, and from thence
Into destruction cast him.

Mar.
No, I'll die here. [Drawing his sword.

Men.
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.

Mar.
On fair ground I could beat forty of them. [Exeunt Marcius and Cominius.

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.

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.

Bru.
We'll hear no more.
Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence,
Lest his infection, being of a 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?

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, meet on the forum; we'll attend you there,
Where if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed In our first way.

Men.
I'll go and bring him to you. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Chamber in the House of Coriolanus. Enter Marcius and Volumnia.

Mar.
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'd
Below the beam of sight, yet will I still
Be thus to them.

Vol.
But hear me, Marcius.

Mar.
I muse, my mother
Does not approve me further, (I talk of you) [To his mother.
Why did you wish me milder? would 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.

Mar.
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.

Mar.
Let them hang.

Vol.
Ay, and burn too. Enter Menenius.

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.

Mar.
What must I do?

Men.
Return to th' tribunes.

Mar.
Well, what then? what then?

Men.
Repent what you have spoke.

Mar.
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?

Mar.
Tush!—tush!—

Men.
A good demand.

Mar.
Why force you this?

Vol.
Because it lies on you to speak to th' people:
I would dissemble with my nature, where
My fortunes and my friends at stake requir'd
I should do so in honour. I pr'ythee,
Now my son, go to them; 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.

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.

Mar.
Must I go shew them my unbarbed sconce?
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 Marcius, 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.

Mar.
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,
Which bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his
That hath received 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 list.
Thy valiantness was mine, thou had'st it from me;
But own thy pride thyself.

Mar.
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 wise. I'll return consul,
Or never trust to what my tongue can do
I'th' way of flattery, further.

Vol.
Do your will.

Com.
Arm yourself
To answer mildly; for they are prepar'd
With accusations, as I hear, more strong
Than are upon you yet.

Mar.
The word is, mildly—pray you, let us go—
Let them accuse me by invention, I
Will answer in mine own honour.

Men.
Ay—but mildly!

Mar.
Well, mildly be it, then—mildly! Exeunt.

SCENE III. The Forum. Enter Sicinius, Brutus, and all the Citizens.

Bru.
Put him to choler streight; 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 Marcius, Menenius, and Cominius.

Sic.
Well, here he comes.

Men.
Calmly I do beseech you.

Mar.
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.

Sic.
Draw near, ye people.

Mar.
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 proved upon you.

Mar.
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.

Mar.
Scratches with briars—
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.

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

Sic.
We charge you, that you have contrived 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.

Mar.
How? traitor?

Men.
Nay, temperately: your promise.

Mar.
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.

Sic.
Mark you this, people?

All.
To the 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' extremest death.

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

Mar.
What do you prate of service?

Bru.
I talk of that, that know it.

Mar.
You?—

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

Com.
Know, I pray you—

Mar.
I'll know no further:
Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death,
Vagabond exile, flaying, pent to linger,
But 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 hav'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
Banish him our city.

Com.
Hear me, my masters, and my common friends—

Bru.
There's no more to be said, we banish him,
As enemy to the people and his country.
It shall be so.

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

Mar.
Ye 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— [Exeunt. [The people shout. End of the Third Act.

ACT IV. SCENE I. A Room in Aufidius' House in Antium. Enter Aufidius and Volusius.

Volu.
Whence is it, Tullus, that our arms are stopt,
Here on the borders of the Roman state?
Why sleeps that spirit, whose heroic ardour
Urg'd you to break the truce, and pour'd our host,
From all th' united cantons of the Volscians,
On their unguarded frontier? Such designs
Brook not an hour's delay; their whole success
Depends on instant vigorous execution.

Auf.
O, my Volusius! thou, who art a soldier,
A try'd and brave one too, say, in thy heart
Dost thou not scorn me? thou, who saw'st me bend
Beneath the half-spent thunder of a foe,
Warm from the conquest of Corioli.

Volu.
True valour, Tullus,
Lies in the mind, the never-yielding purpose;
Nor minds the blind award of giddy fortune.

Auf.
My soul, my friend, my soul is all on fire!
Thirst of revenge consumes me! the revenge
Of generous emulation, not of hatred.
This happy Roman, this proud Marcius haunts me.
Each troubled night, when slaves and captives sleep,

Forgetful of their chains, I, in my dreams,
Anew am vanquish'd; and, beneath his sword
With horror sinking, feel a ten-fold death,
The death of honour. But I will redeem—
Yes, Marcius, I will yet redeem my fame.
To face thee once again is the great purpose
For which alone I live.—Till then, how slow,
How tedious lags the time! while shame corrodes me,
With many a bitter thought; and injur'd honour,
Sick and desponding, preys upon itself.
Ha! why this haste? You look alarm'd. Enter Volscian Officer.

Off.
My Lord,
One of exalted port, his visage hid,
Has plac'd himself beneath the statue of
The mighty Mars, and there, majestic, stands
In solemn silence.

Auf.
Did you not ask him who, and what he was?

Off.
My Lord, I could not speak; I felt appall'd,
As if the presence of some God had struck me.

Auf.
Come, dastard, let me find this man of terrors. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Hall—with the Statue of Mars. Marcius, discovered as described above. Enter Aufidius.

Auf.
Illustrious stranger—for thy high demeanour
Bespeaks thee such—who art thou? what is thy name?

Mar.
A name unmusical to Volscian ears,
And harsh in sound to thine.—Dost thou not know me?

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

Mar.
My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done
To thee particularly, and to all the Volscians,
Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may
My sirname, Coriolanus.
The cruelty and envy of the people,
Permitted by our dastard Nobles,
Have whoop'd me out of Rome. Now this extremity
Hath brought me to thy hearth. 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 followed 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.

Auf.
Oh, Marcius, Marcius,
Each word thou'st spoke hath weeded from my heart
A root of ancient envy. Let me twine
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.

Mar.
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 experienced, 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, Marcius, that was much. Your hand; most welcome! [Exeunt. SCENE III. A Street in Rome. Enter Sicinius and Brutus.

Sic.

We hear not of him, neither need we fear; his remedies are tame:

Bru.

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

Sci.

'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 would do, were he more angry at it.

Men.

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

Sic.
Where is he, hear you?

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

Bru.
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 Marcius' banishment,
Thrusts forth his horns again into the world;
Which were in-shell'd, when Marcius stood for Rome,
And durst not once peep out. Enter a Roman Officer.

Off.
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 scourge him 'fore the people's eyes: his raising!
Nothing but his report!

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

Sic.
What more fearful!

Off.
It is spoke freely out of many mouths,
How probable I do not know, that Marcius
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 Marcius home again.

Sic.
The very trick on't.

Men.
This is unlikely.
He and Aufidius can no more atone,
Than violentest contrarieties. Let's to the senate-house. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. A Wood. Enter Marcius, Aufidius, Volusius, and Soldiers.

Mar.
No more—I merit not thy lavish praise,
True, we have driven the Roman legions back;
Defeated and disgrac'd—but what is done?
Nothing, ye Volces—
Come on, my brave companions of the war,
Come, let us finish, at one mighty stroke,
The toil of lab'ring fate—we will, or perish—
While, noble Tullus, you protect the camp,
I with my troops, all chosen men of valour,
And well approv'd, to-day will storm the city. [Trumpet sounds a parley. Enter a Volscian Officer.

Off.
My Lord, a herald is arriv'd from Rome,
To say, a deputation from the senate,
Attended by the ministers of Heaven,
A venerable train of priests and flamens,
Is on the way, address'd to you.

Mar.
To me!
What can this message mean!—stand to your arms,
Ye Volscian troops; and let these Romans pass
Betwixt the lowring frowns of double files.
What! do they think me such a milky boy,
To pay my vengeance with a few soft words?

Come, fellow soldiers, Tullus, come, and see
If I betray the honours you have done me. [Exit with a train of Volscian officers.

Volu.
Are we not, Tullus, failing in our duty,
Not to attend our general?

Auf.
How! what said'st thou?

Volu.
Methought, my Lord, his parting orders were,
We should attend the triumph now preparing
O'er all his foes at once—Romans and Volscians!
Come, we shall give offence.

Auf. (Aside.)
His words are daggers to my heart: I feel
Their truth, but am ashamed to own my folly.

Volu.
O shame! O infamy! the thought consumes me.
To see a Roman
Borne on our shoulders to immortal fame:
Just in the happy moment that decided
The long dispute of ages, that for which
Our gen'rous ancestors had toil'd and bled,
To see him then step in and steal our glory!
O, that we first had perish'd all! a people
Who cannot find in their own proper force
Their own protection, are not worth the saving!

Auf.
It must have way! I will no more suppress it.—
Know, then, my valiant friend, no less than thee,
His conduct hurts me, and upbraids my folly,
I wake as from a dream. What dæmon mov'd me:

What doating generosity, to exalt him
To the same level, nay above myself;
To yield him the command of half my troops!
That, that was madness,
Was weak, was mean, unworthy of a man!—
How shall I from this labyrinth escape?
Must it then be! what cruel genius dooms me,
In war or peace, to creep beneath his fortune?

Volu.
That genius is thyself. If thou canst bear
The very thought of stooping to this Roman,
Thou from that moment art his vassal, Tullus,
Ay, that thou dost acknowledge, parent nature
Has form'd him thy superior. But if fix'd
Upon the base of manly resolution,
Thou say'st—I will be free!—I will command!—
I and my country!—then—O, never doubt it—
We shall find means to crush this vain intruder;
Even I myself—this hand—nay, hear me, Tullus,
'Tis is not yet come to that, that last resource.
I do not say we should employ the dagger,
While other, better means are in our power.

Auf.
No, my Volusius, fortune will not drive us,
Or I am much deceived, to that extreme:
We shall not want the strongest fairest plea,
To give a solemn sanction to his fate.
He will betray himself. Whate'er his rage
Of passion talks, a weakness for his country
Sticks in his soul, and he is still a Roman.
Soon shall we see him tempted to the brink
Of this sure precipice—then down, at once,

Without remorse, we hurl him to perdition! [Trumpet.
But hark, the trumpet calls us to a scene
I should detest, if not from hope we thence
May gather matter to mature our purpose. [Exeunt. SCENE V. A Street in Rome. Enter Menenius, meeting Brutus and Sicinius.

Men.
Oh, you have made good work.

Bru.
What news? what news?

Sic.
Pray now the news?

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.

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

Men.
Who shall ask it?
The tribunes cannot do't for shame; the people
Deserve such pity of him, as the wolf
Does of the shepherd.
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! Enter all the Citizens.
Here come the clusters—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.
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.

Men.
Y'are goodly things; you voices!—
You have made you good work,
You and your cry.
But here's Cominius, return'd from the deputation. Enter Cominius, and four Senators.
Have you prevailed? Will he have mercy?
Has Rome any hopes? How did he receive you?

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 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.

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 countryman.

Men.
No: I'll not meddle.

Sic.
Pray you go to him.

Men.
What should I do?

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

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 gaoler to his pity. I kneel'd before him,
'Twas very faintly he said, Rise: dismissed 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.

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.

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 Marcius 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. 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.

1 Cit.

O doleful tidings!

2 Cit.

O woeful day!

3 Cit.

What will become of us?

1 Cit.

Let us seize the two tribunes that did banish him, and throw them down the Tarpeian rock.

Sic. Bru.

O, good Menenius, save us, stand our friend.

Men.

Not I; they may hang, drown, burn, or break your worthless necks from the rock, 'tis all one to me.

Cits.
Away with them.

Com
Hear me, fellow citizens!
Suspend your anger till you hear
How the entreaties of his mother, wife,
And our most noble matrons, work upon him.
They yet may bring us peace.

Cits.
We will.

Com.
The Roman Gods prosper their embassy. [Exeunt. Ene of the Fourth Act.

ACT V. SCENE I. The Volscian Lines. Marcius, Aufidius, Volusius, Volscian Officers with Files of Soldiers, and Standard-bearers on either Side discovered. The Roman Ladies advance slowly betwixt the Files of Soldiers, with Volumnia, Virgilia, young Marcius, and Valeria, at their head, all clad in mourning.

Mar.
Here, noble Tullus, sit, and judge my conduct,
Nor spare to check me if I act amiss.

Auf.
Marcius, the Volscian fate is in thy hand.

Mar.
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?
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 stand

As if a man were author of himself,
And knew no other kin.

Vir.
My lord and husband!

Mar.
I melt, and am not of stronger earth than others.
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.

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

Mar.
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.

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

Mar.
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.

Mar.
That's my brave boy.

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

Mar.
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.

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

Vol.
Think with thyself,
How more unfortunate than all living women,
Are we come hither. For either thou
Must as a foreign recreant, 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.

Mar.
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.

Mar.
Those walls contain the most corrupt of men,
A base seditious herd: who trample order,
Distinction, justice, laws, beneath their feet;
Insolent foes to worth, the foes of virtue.

Vol.
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.

Auf.
See, see, Volusius, how the strong emotions
Of powerful nature shake his inmost soul!
See how they tear him.—If he long resist them,
He is a god, or something worse than man!

Vol.
He turns away:
Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees,
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.
Yet give us our dispatch:
I'm hush't, until our city be afire,
And then I'll speak a little.

Vir.
Since, Coriolanus, thou dost still retain,
In spite of all thy mother now has pleaded,
Thy dreadful purpose, ah! how much in vain
Were it for me to join my supplications!
The voice of thy Virgilia, once so pleasing,
How shall it hope to touch the husband's heart,
When proof against the tears of such a parent?
But I must weep—O permit me,
To shed my gushing tears upon thy hand,
And take my last farewell!

Mar.
Leave me.

Vir.
I obey.—How bitter thus to part!
Upon such terms to part! perhaps for ever!
But tell me ere I hence unroot my feet,
When to my lonely home I shall return—

Mar.
Come, and compleat my happiness at Antium,
You and my honoured mother—
There shall you see with what respect the Volces
Will treat the wife and mother of their general.

Vol.
Treat us thyself with more respect, my son;
Nor dare to shock our ears with such proposals.
Shall we desert our country, we, who come
To plead her cause?—Ah, no—A grave in Rome
Would better please me, than a throne at Antium.

Mar.
Cease, cease, to torture me—
You only tear my heart, but cannot shake it.
By the immortal Gods—

Vir.
Oh! vow not our destruction! [Falling on her knees.

Vol.
Daughter, rise;
Let us no more before the Volscian people
Expose ourselves a spectacle of shame.
Hear me, proud man! I have
A heart as stout as thine. I came not hither,
To be sent back rejected, baffled, sham'd,
Hateful to Rome, because I am thy mother:
A Roman matron knows, in such extremes,
What part to take.
Go! barbarous son! go! double parricide
Rush o'er my corse to thy belov'd revenge!
Tread on the bleeding breast of her, to whom
Thou ow'st thy life.—Lo! thy first victim. [Drawing a dagger.

Mar. (Seizing her hand.)
Ha! what mean'st thou?

Vol.
To die, while Rome is free.

Mar.
Set not thus
My treacherous heart in arms against my reason.
Here, here! thy dagger will be well employed;—

Pity me, generous Volscians!—You are men—
Must it then be?—My stifled words refuse
A passage to the throes that wring my heart.

Vol.
Nay, if thou yieldest, yield like Coriolanus;
And what thou do'st, do nobly!

Mar.
Here! 'tis done!
Thine is the triumph, Nature!—Ah, Volumnia!
Rome by thy aid is sav'd—but thy son lost.

Vol.
He never can be lost, who saves his country.

Mar.
Ye matrons, guardians of the Roman safety,
We grant the truce you ask,
Volscians we raise the siege. [Marcius turns to the Roman ladies, who retire in the order they entered.

Auf.
'Tis as we wish'd, Volusius—
But mark me well—one offer more
My honour bids me make to this proud man.
If he rejects it,
His blood be on his head.

Volu.
Well! I obey you.

Mar.
I plainly, Tullus, by your looks discern
You disapprove my conduct.

Auf.
I mean not to assail thee with the clamour
Of loud reproaches, and the war of words;
But, pride apart, and all that can pervert
The light of steady reason, here to make
A candid fair proposal.

Mar.
Speak, I hear thee.

Auf.
I need not tell thee that I have perform'd
My utmost promise. Thou hast been protected;
Hast had thy amplest, most ambitious wish:
Thy wounded pride is heal'd, thy dear revenge
Compleatly sated; and, to crown thy fortune,
At the same time, thy peace with Rome restor'd.
Thou art no more a Volscian, but a Roman.
Return, return; thy duty calls upon thee,
Still to protect the city thou hast sav'd:
It still may be in danger from our arms.
Retire: I will take care thou may'st with safety.

Mar.
With safety!—Heav'ns!—And think'st thou, Coriolanus
Will stoop to thee for safety?—No! my safeguard
Is in myself, a bosom void of blame.—
O 'tis an act of cowardice and baseness,
To seize the very time my hands are fetter'd,
By the strong chain of former obligations,
The safe sure moment to insult me. Gods!
Were I now free, as on that day I was
When at Corioli I tam'd thy pride,
This had not been.

Auf.
Thou speak'st the truth: it had not.
O for that time again! propitious gods,
If you will bless me, grant it!—Know, for that,
For that dear purpose, I have now propos'd
Thou should'st return. I pray thee, Marcius, do it!
And we shall meet again on nobler terms.

Mar.
Till I have clear'd my honour in your council,
And prov'd before them all, to thy confusion,
The falsehood of thy charge; as soon in battle
I would before thee fly, and howl for mercy,
As quit the station they have here assign'd me.

Auf.
Thou can'st not hope acquittal from the Volscians.

Mar.
I do:—Nay more, expect their approbation,
Their thanks! I will obtain them such a peace
As thou durst never ask; a perfect union
Of their whole nation with imperial Rome,
In all her privileges, all her rights.
By the just Gods, I will! What would'st thou more?

Auf.
What would I more! proud Roman; this I would,
Fire the curst forest where these Roman wolves
Haunt and infest their nobler neighbours round them;
Extirpate from the bosom of this land,
A false perfidious people, who, beneath
The mask of freedom, are a combination
Against the liberty of human kind.

Mar.
The seeds of Gods!
Whate'er her blots, whate'er her giddy factions,
There is more virtue in one single year
Of Roman story, than your Volscian annals
Can boast, thro' all your creeping dark duration!

Auf.
I thank thy rage. This full displays the traitor.

Mar.
Traitor!—how now!—

Auf.
Ay, traitor, Marcius.

Mar.
Marcius!

Auf.
Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius; 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.

Mar.
Hear'st thou, Mars?

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

Mar.
Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart
Too great for what contains it. Boy?
Cut me to pieces, Volscians,
Stain all your edges in me. Boy?
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?—But let us part,
Lest my rash hand should do a hasty deed
My cooler thought forbids.

Auf.
I court
The worst thy sword can do; whilst thou from me
Hast nothing to expect, but sore destruction.
Quit then this hostile camp. Once more I tell thee,
Thou art not here one single hour in safety.

Mar.
O that I had thee,
With six Aufidius's, or more; thy tribe;
To use my lawful sword—

Volu.
Insolent villain! [Volscian officers draw, and kill Marcius.

Auf.
My lords, when you shall know 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.
My rage is gone, and I am struck
With sorrow. Bear from hence his body.
Let him be regarded,
As the most noble corse, that ever herald
Did follow to his urn.
Beat, beat the drum that it speak mournfully:
Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he
Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail the injury;
Yet he shall have a noble memory. A dead march. The Curtain drops slowly.