SCENE II.
Enter Menenius Agrippa.
2 Cit.
Worthy Menenius Agrippa, one that hath
always lov'd the People.
1 Cit.
He's one honest enough; 'would, all the rest
were so!
Men.
What Work's, my Countrymen, in hand?
Where go you
With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray you.
2 Cit.
Our business is not unknown to the Senate;
they have had inkling, this fortnight, what we intend
to do, which now we'll shew 'em in deeds. They say,
poor Suiters have strong breaths; they shall know, we
have strong arms too.
Men.
Why, Masters, my good Friends, mine honest
Neighbours,
Will you undo yourselves?
2 Cit.
We cannot, Sir, we are undone already.
Men.
I tell you, Friends, most charitable care
Have the Patricians of you. For your wants,
Your sufferings in this Dearth, you may as well
Strike at the Heavens with your staves, as lift them
Against the Roman State; whose Course will on
-- 490 --
The way it takes, cracking ten thousand Curbs
Of more strong Links asunder, than can ever
Appear in your Impediment. For the Dearth,
The Gods, not the Patricians, make it; and
Your Knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack,
You are transported by Calamity
Thither where more attends you; and you slander
The Helms o'th' State, who care for you like Fathers,
When you curse them as Enemies.
2 Cit.
Care for us!—True, indeed!—They ne'er
car'd for us yet. Suffer us to famish, and their Store-houses
cramm'd with grain; make Edicts for Usury,
to support Usurers; repeal daily any wholesome Act
established against the Rich, and provide more piercing
Statutes daily to chain up and restrain the Poor.
If the wars eat us not up, they will; and there's all
the love they bear us.
Men.
Either you must
Confess yourselves wond'rous malicious,
Or be accus'd of folly. I shall tell you
A pretty Tale, it may be, you have heard it;
But, since it serves my purpose 4 note
I will venture
To scale't a little more.
2 Cit.
Well,
I'll hear it, Sir—yet you must not think
-- 491 --
To fob off our 5 notedisgraces with a Tale.
But, an't please you, deliver.
Men.
There was a time, when all the body's members
Rebell'd against the belly; thus accus'd it;—
That only, like a Gulf, it did remain
I' th' midst o'th' body, idle and unactive,
Still cupboarding the Viand, never bearing
Like labour with the rest; 6 notewhere th' other instruments
Did see, and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel,
And mutually participate, did minister
Unto the appetite, and affection common
Of the whole body. The belly answer'd—
2 Cit.
Well, Sir, what answer made the belly?
Men.
Sir, I shall tell you.—With a kind of smile,
7 noteWhich ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus—
(For, look you, I may make the belly smile,
As well as speak) it tauntingly reply'd
To th' discontented Members, th' mutinous Parts,
That envied his receit; 8 noteeven so most fitly,
As you malign our Senators, for that
They are not such as you—
2 Cit.
Your belly's answer—what!
The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye,
9 noteThe counsellor heart, the arm our soldier,
Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter;
With other muniments and petty helps
In this our fabrick, if that they—
Men.
What then?—'Fore me, this fellow speaks.
What then? what then?
2 Cit.
Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd,
Who is the sink o'th' body—
Men.
Well,—what then?
-- 492 --
2 Cit.
The former Agents, if they did complain,
What could the belly answer?
Men.
I will tell you,
If you'll bestow a small, of what you have little,
Patience, a while; you'll hear the belly's answer.
2 Cit.
Y'are long about it.
Men.
Note me this, good Friend;
Your most grave belly was deliberate,
Not rash, like his accusers; and thus answer'd.
True is it, my incorporate Friends, quoth he,
That I receive the general food at first,
Which you do live upon; and fit it is,
Because I am the store-house, and the shop
Of the whole body. But, if you do remember,
I send it through the rivers of your blood,
Even to the Court, the Heart, to th' seat o' th' brain.
And, through the cranks and offices of man,
The strongest nerves, and small inferior veins,
From me receive that natural competency,
Whereby they live. And tho' that all at once,
You, my good Friends, (this says the belly) mark me—
2 Cit.
Ay, Sir, well, well.
Men.
Though all at once cannot
See what I do deliver out to each,
Yet I can make my audit up, that all
From me do back receive the flow'r of all,
And leave me but the bran. What say you to't?
2 Cit.
It was an answer. How apply you this?
Men.
The Senators of Rome are this good belly,
And you the mutinous members; for examine
Their Counsels, and their Cares, digest things rightly,
Touching the weal o'th' Common, you shall find,
No publick benefit, which you receive,
But it proceeds, or comes, from them to you,
And no way from yourselves. What do You think?
You, the great toe of this Assembly!—
2 Cit.
I the great toe? Why, the great toe?
-- 493 --
Men.
For that, being one o'th' lowest, basest, poorest,
Of this most wise Rebellion, thou goest foremost:
1 note
Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run,
Lead'st first, to win some 'vantage.—
But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs,
Rome and her rats are at the point of battle:
The one side must have bale.
SCENE III.
Enter Caius Marcius Coriolanus.
Hail, noble Marcius!
Cor.
Thanks. What's the matter, you dissentious rogues,
That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,
Make yourselves scabs?
2 Cit.
We have ever your good word.
Cor.
He, that will give good words to thee, will flatter
Beneath abhorring. What would you have, ye Curs,
2 note
That like not peace, nor war? The one affrights you,
-- 494 --
The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you,
Where he should find you lions, finds you hares,
Where foxes, geese; you are no surer, no,
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,
Or hailstone in the Sun. Your virtue is,
To make him worthy, whose offence subdues him,
And curse that justice, did it. Who deserves Greatness,
Deserves your Hate; and your affections are
A sick man's appetite, who desires most That
Which would increase his evil. He, that depends
Upon your favours, swims with fins of lead,
And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye—Trust ye?
With every minute you do change a mind,
And call him noble, that was now your hate;
Him vile, that was your garland. What's the matter,
That in the several places of the City
You cry against the noble Senate, who,
Under the Gods, keep you in awe, which else
Would feed on one another?—What's their Seeking?
Men.
For corn at their own rates, whereof, they say,
The city is well stor'd.
Cor.
Hang 'em? They say.—
They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know
What's done i' th' Capitol; who's like to rise;
-- 495 --
Who thrives, and who declines; side factions, and give out
Conjectural marriages; making parties strong,
And feeble such, as stand not in their Liking,
Below their cobled shoes. They say, there's Grain enough?
Would the Nobility lay aside their ruth.
And let me use my sword, 3 note
I'd make a quarry
With thousands of these quarter'd Slaves, as high
As I could pitch my lance.
Men.
Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded;
For though abundantly they lack discretion,
Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you,
What says the other troop?
Cor.
They are dissolv'd. Hang 'em,
They said they were an hungry, sigh'd forth Proverbs;
That hunger broke stone walls—that dogs must eat,—
That meat was made for mouths—that the Gods send not
Corn for the rich men only—With these shreds
They vented their complainings, which being answer'd,
And a Petition granted them, a strange one,
To break 4 notethe heart of Generosity,
And make bold Power look pale, they threw their caps
As they would hang them on the horns o' th' Moon,
Shouting their emulation.
Men.
What is granted them?
Cor.
Five Tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms,
Of their own choice. One's Junius Brutus,
Sicinius Velutus, and I know not—s'death,
The rabble should have first unroof'd the City,
Ere so prevail'd with me! it will in time
Win upon Power, and throw forth greater themes
For Insurrection's arguing.
-- 496 --
Men.
This is strange.
Cor.
Go, get you home, you fragments!
Enter a Messenger.
Mes.
Where's Caius Marcius?
Cor.
Here. What's the matter?
Mes.
The news is, Sir, the Volscians are in arms.
Cor.
I'm glad on't, then we shall have means to vent
Our musty superfluity. See, our best Elders—
SCENE IV.
Enter Sicinius Velutus, Junius Brutus, Cominius,
Titus Lartius, with other Senators.
1 Sen.
Marcius, 5 note
'tis true, that you have lately told us.
The Volscians are in arms.
Cor.
They have a Leader,
Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to't.
I sin in envying his Nobility,
And were I any thing but what I am,
I'd wish me only he.
Com.
You have fought together?
Cor.
Were half to half the world by th'ears, and he
Upon my Party, I'd revolt, to make
Only my wars with him. He is a lion,
That I am proud to hunt.
1 Sen.
Then, worthy Marcius,
Attend upon Cominius to these wars.
-- 497 --
Com.
It is your former promise.
Cor.
Sir, it is;
And I am constant. Titus Lartius, thou
Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face.
What, art thou stiff? stand'st out?
Tit.
No, Caius Marcius,
I'll lean upon one crutch, and fight with t'other,
Ere stay behind this business.
Men.
O true bred!
1 Sen.
Your company to th' Capitol; where, I know,
Our greatest Friends attend us.
Tit.
Lead you on.
Follow, Cominius; we must follow you;
Right worthy you Priority.
Com.
Noble Lartius—
1 Sen.
Hence! To your homes. Be gone.
[To the Citizens.
Cor.
Nay, let them follow.
The Volscians have much corn, take these rats thither,
To gnaw their garners. Worshipful Mutineers,
6 noteYour valour puts well forth; pray, follow.—
[Exeunt.
Citizens steal away. Manent Sicinius and Brutus.
Sic.
Was ever man so proud, as is this Marcius?
Bru.
He has no equal.
Sic.
When we were chosen Tribunes for the People—
Bru.
Mark'd you his lip and eyes?
Sic.
Nay, but his taunts.
Bru.
Being mov'd, he will not spare to * notegird the Gods—
Sic.
Be-mock the modest Moon,—
-- 498 --
Bru.
7 note
The present wars devour him! He is grown
Too proud, to be so valiant.
Sic.
Such a nature,
Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow
Which he treads on at noon; but I do wonder,
His insolence can brook to be commanded
Under Cominius.
Bru.
Fame, at the which he aims,
In whom already he is well grac'd, cannot
Better be held, nor more attain'd, than by
A place below the first; for what miscarries
Shall be the General's fault, though he perform
To the utmost of a man; and giddy censure
Will then cry out of Marcius: Oh, if he
Had borne the business—
Sic.
Besides, if things go well,
Opinion that so sticks on Marcius, shall
Of his demerits rob Cominius.
Bru.
Come.
Half all Cominius' Honours are to Marcius,
Though Marcius earn'd them not; and all his faults
To Marcius shall be honours, though, indeed,
In aught he merit not.
-- 499 --
Sic.
Let's hence, and hear
How the dispatch is made; and in what fashion,
* noteMore than his singularity, he goes
Upon this present action.
Bru.
Let's along.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Changes to Corioli.
Enter Tullus Aufidius, with Senators of Corioli.
1 Sen.
So, your opinion is, Aufidius,
That they of Rome are entred in our Counsels,
And know how we proceed.
Auf.
Is it not yours?
What ever hath been thought on in this State,
That could be brought to bodily act, ere Rome
Had circumvention? 'Tis not four days gone,
Since I heard thence—These are the words—I think,
I have the letter here. Yes—here it is.
They have prest a Power, but it is not known
[Reading.
Whether for East or West. The Dearth is great,
The People mutinous; and it is rumour'd,
Cominius, Marcius your old enemy,
Who is of Rome worse hated than of you,
And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman,
These three lead on this preparation
Whither 'tis bent. Most likely, 'tis for you.
Consider of it.
1 Sen.
Our Army's in the Field.
-- 500 --
We never yet made doubt, but Rome was ready
To answer us.
Auf.
Nor did you think it folly,
To keep your great pretences veil'd, 'till when
They needs must shew themselves; which in the hatching,
It seem'd, appear'd to Rome. By the discovery
We shall be shortned in our aim, which was
To take in many Towns, ere, almost, Rome
Should know we were a-foot.
2 Sen.
Noble Aufidius,
Take your Commission, hie you to your bands;
Let us alone to guard Corioli;
If they set down before's, 8 note
for the remove
Bring up your Army: but, I think, you'll find,
They've not prepar'd for us.
Auf.
O, doubt not that,
I speak from certainties. Nay more,
Some parcels of their Power are forth already,
And only hitherward. I leave your Honours.
If We and Caius Marcius chance to meet,
'Tis sworn between us, we shall ever strike
'Till one can do no more.
All.
The Gods assist you!
-- 501 --
Auf.
And keep your Honours safe!
1 Sen.
Farewel.
2 Sen.
Farewel.
All.
Farewel.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Changes to Caius Marcius's House in Rome.
Enter Volumnia and Virgilia; they sit down on two
low stools, and sow.
Vol.
I pray you, Daughter, sing, or express yourself
in a more comfortable sort. If my Son were
my Husband, I would freelier rejoice in that absence
wherein he won honour, than in the embracements of
his bed, where he would shew most love. When yet
he was but tender-bodied, and the only Son of my
womb; when youth with comeliness plucked all gaze
his way; when, for a day of King's entreaties, a Mother
should not sell him an hour from her beholding;
I, considering how Honour would become such a person,
that it was no better than picture-like to hang
by th' wall, if Renown made it not stir, was pleas'd
to let him seek Danger where he was like to find
Fame. To a cruel war I sent him, from whence he
return'd, his 9 notebrows bound with Oak. I tell thee,
Daughter, I sprang not more in joy at first hearing
he was a man-child, than now in first seeing he had
proved himself a Man.
Vir.
But had he died in the business, Madam; how
then?
Vol.
Then his good Report should have been my
Son; I therein would have found issue. Hear me profess
sincerely. Had I a dozen Sons each in my love
-- 502 --
alike, and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius,
I had rather eleven die nobly for their Country,
than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.
Enter a Gentlewoman.
Gent.
Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you.
Vir.
'Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.
Vol.
Indeed thou shalt not.
Methinks, I hither hear your Husband's Drum;
I see him pluck Aufidius down by th' hair;
As children from a bear, the Volsci shunning him.
Methinks, I see him stamp thus [stamping.] and call thus—
Come on, ye cowards, ye were got in fear,
Though ye were born in Rome; his bloody brow
With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes
Like to a harvest man, that's task'd to mow
Or all, or lose his hire.
Vir.
His bloody brow? Oh, Jupiter, no blood!—
Vol.
Away, you fool; it more becomes a man,
Than Gilt his trophy. 'The breast of Hecuba,
When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier
Than Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood
At Grecian swords contending. Tell Valeria,
We are fit to bid her welcome.
[Exit Gent.
Vir.
Heav'ns bless my Lord from fell Aufidius!
Vol.
He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee,
And tread upon his neck.
Enter Valeria with an Usher, and a Gentlewoman.
Val.
My Ladies Both, good day to you.
Vol.
Sweet Madam—
Vir.
I am glad to see your Ladyship—
Val.
How do you Both? You are manifest House-keepers.
What are you sewing here? a fine spot, in
good faith. How does your little Son?
Vir.
I thank your Ladyship. Well, good Madam.
-- 503 --
Vol.
He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum,
than look upon his schoolmaster.
Val.
O' my word, the Father's Son. I'll swear, 'tis
a very pretty boy. O' my troth, I look'd on him
o' Wednesday half an hour together—H'as such a
confirm'd countenance. I saw him run after a gilded
butterfly, and when he caught it, he let it go again;
and after it again; and over and over he comes, and
up again; and caught it again; or whether his Fall
enrag'd him, or how 'twas, he did so set his teeth,
and did tear it. Oh, I warrant, how he mammockt
it!
Vol.
One of's Father's moods.
Val.
Indeed, la, 'tis a noble Child.
Vir.
A Crack, Madam.
Val.
Come, lay aside your Stitchery. I must have
you play the idle huswife with me this afternoon.
Vir.
No, good Madam, I will not out of doors.
Val.
Not out of doors!
Vol.
She shall, she shall.
Vir.
Indeed, no, by your patience. I'll not over
the threshold, 'till my Lord return from the wars.
Val.
Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably.
Come, you must go visit the good Lady that lyes in.
Vir.
I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her
with my prayers; but I cannot go thither.
Vol.
Why, I pray you?
Vir.
'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love.
Val.
You would be another Penelope. Yet they say,
all the yarn, she spun in Ulysses's absence, did but fill
Ithaca full of moths. Come, I would, your cambrick
were sensible as your finger, that you might leave
pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us.
Vir.
No, good Madam, pardon me; indeed, I will
not forth.
Val.
In truth, la, go with me, and I'll tell you excellent
news of your Husband.
Vir.
Oh, good Madam, there can be none yet.
-- 504 --
Val.
Verily, I do not jest with you; there came
news from him last night.
Vir.
Indeed, Madam—
Val.
In earnest, it's true; I heard a Senator speak
it. Thus it is—The Volscians have an army forth,
against whom Cominius the General is gone, with one
part of our Roman Power. Your Lord and Titus
Lartius are set down before their City Corioli; they
nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief wars.
This is true, on my honour; and so, I pray, go with
us.
Vir.
Give me excuse, good Madam, I will obey you
in every thing hereafter.
Vol.
Let her alone, Lady. As she is now, she will
but disease our better mirth.
Val.
In troth, I think, she would. Fare you well,
then. Come, good sweet Lady. Pr'ythee, Virgilia,
turn thy Solemness out o' door, and go along with us.
Vir.
No, at a word, Madam; indeed, I must not.
I wish you much mirth.
Val.
Well, then farewel.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VII.
Changes to the Walls of Corioli.
Enter Marcius, Titus Lartius, with Captains and Soldiers. To them a Messenger.
Cor.
Yonder comes news. A wager, they have met.
Lart.
My horse to yours, no.
Cor.
'Tis done.
Lart.
Agreed.
Cor.
Say, has our General met the enemy?
Mes.
They lye in view; but have not spoke as yet.
Lart.
So, the good horse is mine.
Cor.
I'll buy him of you.
-- 505 --
Lart.
No, I'll nor sell, nor give him. Lend him you, I will,
For half an hundred years.—Summon the town.
Cor.
How far off lye these armies?
Mes.
Within a mile and half.
Cor.
Then shall we hear their larum, and they ours.
Now, Mars, I pr'ythee, make us quick in work;
That we with smoaking swords may march from hence,
To help our fielded friends!—Come, blow thy blast.
They sound a Parley. Enter two senators with others on the Walls.
Tullus Aufidius, is he within your Walls?
1 Sen.
No, 1 note
nor a man that fears you less than he,
That's lesser than a little. Hark, our drums
[Drum afar off.
Are bringing forth our Youth. We'll break our Walls,
Rather than they shall pound us up, our Gates,
Which yet seem shut, we have but pinn'd with rushes;
They'll open of themselves. Hark you, far off
[Alarum, far off.
There is Aufidius. List, what work he makes
Among your cloven army.
Cor.
Oh, they are at it!—
Lart.
Their noise be our instruction. Ladders, ho!
Enter the Volscians.
Cor.
They fear us not, but issue forth their City.
Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight
With hearts more proof than shields. Advance, brave Titus,
They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts;
-- 506 --
Which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on my fellows;
He that retires, I'll take him for a Volscian,
And he shall feel mine edge.
[Alarum; the Romans beat back to their Trenches.
SCENE VIII.
Re-enter Marcius.
Cor.
All the Contagion of the South light on you,
You shames of Rome! you herd of—Boils and plagues
Plaister you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd
Farther than seen, and one infect another
Against the wind a mile!—You souls of geese,
That bear the shapes of men, how have you run
From Slaves, that apes would beat? Pluto and Hell!
All hurt behind. Backs red, and faces pale,
With flight, and agued fear! Mend, and charge home,
Or, by the fires of Heaven, I'll leave the Foe,
And make my wars on you. Look to't, come on;
If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives,
As they us to our trenches followed.
Another Alarum, and Marcius follows them to the gates.
So now the gates are ope. Now prove good seconds;
'Tis for the followers, fortune widens them,
Not for the fliers. Mark me, and do the like.
[He enters the gates.
1 Sol.
Fool-hardiness, not I.
2 Sol.
Nor I.
3 Sol.
See, they have shut him in.
[He is shut in.
[Alarum continues.
All.
To th' pot, I warrant him.
-- 507 --
Enter Titus Lartius.
Lart.
What is become of Marcius?
All.
Slain, Sir, doubtless.
1 Sol.
Following the fliers at the very heels,
With them he enters; who, upon the sudden,
Clapt to their gates. He is himself alone,
To answer all the City.
Lart.
Oh, noble fellow!
2 note
Who, sensible, out-dares his senseless sword,
And, when it bows, stands up. Thou art left, Marcius—
A carbuncle intire, as big as thou art,
Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier
Even to 3 note
Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible
Only in stroaks, but with thy grim looks, and
The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds,
Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the world
Were feverous, and did tremble.
Enter Marcius bleeding, assaulted by the Enemy.
1 Sol.
Look, Sir—
Lart.
O, 'tis Marcius.
Let's fetch him off, or 4 notemake remain alike.
[They fight, and all enter the City.
-- 508 --
Enter certain Romans with Spoils.
1 Rom.
This will I carry to Rome.
2 Rom.
And I this.
3 Rom.
A murrain on't, I took this for silver.
[Alarum continues still afar off.
Enter Marcius and Titus Lartius, with a Trumpet.
Cor.
See here these Movers, that do 5 note
prize their honours
At a crack'd drachm; cushions, leaden spoons,
Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would
Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves,
Ere yet the fight be done, pack up. Down with them.
And hark, what noise the General makes!—To him;—
There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius,
Piercing our Romans; then, valiant Titus, take
Convenient numbers to make good the City;
Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste
To help Cominius.
Lart.
Worthy Sir, thou bleed'st;
Thy exercise hath been too violent
For a second course of fight.
Cor.
Sir, praise me not.
My work hath yet not warm'd me. Fare you well.
The blood, I drop, is rather physical
Than dangerous to me.
T' Aufidius thus I will appear, and fight.
Lart.
Now the fair Goddess Fortune
Fall deep in love with thee, and her great charms
-- 509 --
Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman,
Prosperity be thy page!
Cor.
Thy friend no less,
Than those she placeth highest! So, farewel.
Lart.
Thou worthiest Marcius.
—Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place,
Call thither all the officers o' th' town,
Where they shall know our mind. Away.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IX.
Changes to the Roman Camp.
Enter Cominius retreating, with Soldiers.
Com.
Breathe you, my friends. Well fought. We are come off
Like Romans, neither foolish in our Stands,
Nor cowardly in retire. Believe me, Sirs,
We shall be charg'd again. Whiles we have struck,
By interims and conveying gusts, we have heard
The Charges of our friends. 6 note
Ye Roman Gods,
Lead their successes, as we wish our own;
That both our Powers, with smiling fronts encountring,
Enter a Messenger.
May give you thankful sacrifice! Thy news?
Mes.
The citizens of Corioli have issued,
And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle.
I saw our Party to the trenches driven,
And then I came away.
Com.
Tho' thou speak'st truth,
-- 510 --
Methinks, thou speak'st not well. How long is't since?
Mes.
Above an hour, my lord.
Com.
'Tis not a mile. Briefly, we heard their drums.
How could'st thou in a mile confound an hour,
And bring the news so late?
Mes.
Spies of the Volscians
Held me in chase, that I was forc'd to wheel
Three or four miles about; else had I, Sir,
Half an hour since brought my report.
Enter Marcius.
Com.
Who's yonder,
That does appear as he were flead? O Gods!
He has the stamp of Marcius, and I have
Before time seen him thus.
Cor.
Come I too late?
Com.
The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor,
More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue
From every meaner man.
Cor.
Come I too late?
Com.
Ay, if you come not in the blood of others,
But mantled in your own.
Cor.
Oh! let me clip ye
In arms as sound, as when I woo'd; in heart
As merry, as when our nuptial day was done,
And tapers burnt to bedward.
Com.
Flower of Warriors,
How is't with Titus Lartius?
Cor.
As with a man busied about Decrees;
Condemning some to death, and some to exile,
7 noteRansoming him, or pitying, threatning th' other;
Holding Corioli in the name of Rome,
-- 511 --
Even like a fawning grey-hound in the leash,
To let him slip at will.
Com.
Where is that slave,
Which told me, they had beat you to your trenches?
Where is he? Call him hither.
Cor.
Let him alone,
He did inform the truth. But for our Gentlemen—
The common file; a plague!—Tribunes for them!
The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat, as they did budge
From rascals worse than they.
Com.
But how prevail'd you?
Cor.
Will the time serve to tell? I do not think—
Where is the enemy? are you lords o'th' field?
If not, why cease you 'till you are so?
Com.
Marcius, we have at disadvantage fought,
And did retire, to win our purpose.
Cor.
How lies their battle? Know you on what side
They have plac'd their men of trust?
Com.
As I guess, Marcius,
Their bands i'th' vaward are the Antiates
Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius,
Their very heart of hope.
Cor.
I do beseech you,
By all the battles wherein we have fought,
By th' blood we'ave shed together, by the Vows
We'ave made to endure friends, that you directly
Set me against Aufidius, and his Antiates;
8 noteAnd that you not delay the present, but
Filling the air with 9 noteswords advanc'd, and darts,
We prove this very hour.—
Com.
Though I could wish,
You were conducted to a gentle bath,
And balms applied to you, yet dare I never
-- 512 --
Deny your asking; take your choice of those,
That best can aid your action.
Cor.
Those are they,
That most are willing. If any such be here,
As it were sin to doubt, that love this Painting,
Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear
Less for his person than an ill report;
If any think, brave death out-weighs bad life;
And that his Country's dearer than himself;
Let him, alone, or many, if so minded,
Wave thus, t' express his disposition,
[Waving his hand.
And follow Marcius.
[They all shout, and wave their swords, take him up
in their arms, and cast up their caps.
Oh! Me alone! Make you a sword of me.
If these shews be not outward, which of you
But is four Volscians? none of you, but is
Able to bear against the great Aufidius
A shield as hard as his. A certain number,
Tho' thanks to all, must I select from all:
The rest shall bear the business in some other fight,
As cause will be obeyed; 1 note
please you to march,
And four shall quickly draw out my Command,
Which men are best inclin'd.
Com.
March on, my fellows.
Make good this ostentation, and you shall
Divide in all with us.
[Exeunt.
-- 513 --
SCENE X.
Changes to Corioli.
Titus Lartius, having set a guard upon Corioli, going
with drum and trumpet toward Cominius and Caius
Marcius; Enter with a Lieutenant, other soldiers, and a scout.
Lart.
So, let the Ports be guarded. Keep your duties,
As I have set them down. If I do send, dispatch
Those Sentries to our aid; the rest will serve
For a short holding; if we lose the field,
We cannot keep the town.
Lieu.
Fear not our care, Sir.
Lart.
Hence, and shut your gates upon's.
Our guider, come! To the Roman camp conduct us.
[Exeunt.
SCENE XI.
Changes to the Roman Camp.
Alarum, as in battle. Enter Marcius and Aufidius,
at several doors.
Cor.
I'll fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee
Worse than a promise-breaker.
Auf.
We hate alike:
Not Africk owns a serpent I abhor
More than thy Fame, and envy. Fix thy foot.
Cor.
Let the first budger die the other's slave,
And the Gods doom him after!
Auf.
If I fly, Marcius,
Halloo me like a Hare.
-- 514 --
Cor.
Within these three hours, Tullus,
Alone I fought in your Corioli walls,
And made what work I pleas'd; 'tis not my blood,
Wherein thou see'st me mask'd; for thy revenge,
Wrench up thy power to th' highest.
Auf.
2 note
Wert thou the Hector,
That was the whip of your bragg'd Progeny,
Thou should'st not 'scape me here
[Here they fight, and certain Volscians come to the
aid of Aufidius. Marcius fights, 'till they be driven in breathless.
Officious, and not valiant!—* note
you have sham'd me
In your condemned Seconds.
Flourish. Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Enter at one door, Cominius with the Romans; at another door, Marcius, with his arm in a scarf.
Com.
If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work,
Thou'lt not believe thy deeds; but I'll report it,
Where Senators shall mingle tears with smiles;
Where great Patricians shall attend and shrug;
I' th' end, admire; where ladies shall be frighted,
And, gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dull Tribunes,
That with the fusty Plebeians, hate thine honours,
Shall say, against their hearts,—We thank the Gods,
Our Rome hath such a soldier!—
Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast,
Having fully din'd before.
-- 515 --
Enter Titus Lartius, with his Power, from the pursuit.
Lart.
O General,
3 noteHere is the steed, we the caparison.
Hadst thou beheld—
Cor.
Pray now, no more. My Mother,
Who has 4 notea charter to extol her blood,
When she does praise me, grieves me.
I have done as you have done; that's, what I can;
Induc'd, as you have been; that's for my Country.
He, that has but effected his good will,
Hath overta'en mine act.
Com.
You shall not be
The Grave of your deserving. Rome must know
The value of her own; 'twere a concealment
Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement,
To hide your Doings; and to silence that,
Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd,
Would seem but modest. Therefore, I beseech you,
In sign of what you are, not to reward
What you have done, before our army hear me.
Cor.
I have some wounds upon me, and they smart
To hear themselves remembred.
Com.
* noteShould they not,
Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude,
And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses,
Whereof we have ta'en good, and good store, of all
The treasure in the field atchiev'd, and city,
We render you the tenth, to be ta'en forth,
Before the common distribution, at
Your only choice.
Cor.
I thank you, General,
But cannot make my heart consent to take
-- 516 --
A bribe, to pay my sword. I do refuse it,
And stand upon my common part with those
That have beheld the doing.
[A long flourish. They all cry, Marcius, Marcius!
cast up their caps and launces: Cominius and Lartius
stand bare.
Cor.
May these same instruments, which you profane,
Never sound more! 5 note
When drums and trumpets shall
I' th' field prove flatterers, let camps, as cities,
Be made of false-fac'd soothing! When steel grows
Soft as the parasite's silk, let Hymns be made
An overture for the wars!—No more, I say;
For that I have not wash'd my nose that bled,
Or foil'd some debile wretch, which, without note
Here's many else have done; you shout me forth
In acclamations hyperbolical;
As if I lov'd, my little should be dieted
In praises sauc'd with lies.
Com.
Too modest are you;
-- 517 --
More cruel to your good report, than grateful
To us, that give you truly. By your patience,
If 'gainst yourself you be incens'd, we'll put you,
Like one that means his proper harm, in manacles,
Then reason safely with you. Therefore, be it known,
As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius
Wears this war's garland; in token of the which,
My noble steed, known to the Camp, I give him,
With all his trim belonging; and, from this time,
For what he did before Corioli, call him,
With all th' applause and clamour of the Host,
Caius Marcius Coriolanus.
Bear th' addition nobly ever.
[Flourish. Trumpets sound and drums.
Omnes.
Caius Marcius Coriolanus!
Cor.
I will go wash:
And when my face is fair, you shall perceive
Whether I blush or no. Howbeit, I thank you.
I mean to stride your Steed, and at all time
6 noteTo undercrest your good Addition,
7 note
To th' fairness of my Power.
Com.
So. To our tent;
Where, ere we do repose us, we will write
To Rome of our successes. You, Titus Lartius,
Must to Corioli back; send us to Rome
* noteThe Best, with whom we may articulate,
For their own good, and ours.
Lart.
I shall, my lord.
Cor.
The Gods begin to mock me.
I, that but now refus'd most princely gifts,
Am bound to beg of my Lord General.
Com.
Take it. 'Tis yours. What is't?
-- 518 --
Cor.
I sometime lay here in Corioli,
At a poor man's house; he us'd me kindly.
He cry'd to me; I saw him prisoner;
But then Aufidius was within my view,
And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity. I request you
To give my poor Host Freedom.
Com.
O well begg'd!
Were he the butcher of my son, he should
Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus.
Lart.
Marcius, his name?
Cor.
By Jupiter, forgot.—
I am weary; yea, my memory is tir'd.
Have we no wine here?
Com.
Go we to our tent.
The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time
It should be look'd to. Come.
[Exeunt.
SCENE XII.
Changes to the Camp of the Volsci.
A Flourish. Cornet. Enter Tullus Aufidius bloody,
with two or three soldiers.
Auf.
The town is ta'en!
Sol.
'Twill be deliver'd back on good condition.
Auf.
Condition!
I would, I were a Roman; for I cannot,
8 note
Being a Volscian, be that I am. Condition?
What good condition can a treaty find
I' th' part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius,
I have fought with thee, so often hast thou beat me,
-- 519 --
And would'st do so, I think, should we encounter
As often as we eat. By th' Elements,
If e'er again I meet him beard to beard,
He's mine, or I am his. Mine emulation
Hath not that honour in't, it had; for where
I thought to crush him in an equal force,
True Sword to Sword, I'll potch at him some way6Q0224,
Or wrath, or craft may get him.
Sol.
He's the Devil.
Auf.
Bolder, tho' not so subtle. My valour poison'd,
With only suffering stain by him, 9 note
for him
Shall flie out of itself: 1 note
not sleep nor sanctuary,
Being naked, sick, nor fane, nor Capitol,
The prayers of priests, nor times of sacrifice,
Embarrments all of fury, shall lift up
Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst
My hate to Marcius. Where I find him, were it
-- 520 --
* noteAt home, upon my brother's guard, even there,
Against the hospitable Canon, would I
Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to th' city;
Learn, how 'tis held; and what they are, that must
Be hostages for Rome.
Sol.
Will not you go?
Auf.
I am attended at the cypress grove.
I pray you,
('Tis South the city mills) bring me word thither
How the world goes, that to the pace of it
I may spur on my journey.
Sol.
I shall, Sir.
[Exeunt.
Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
