Herald.
Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight
Within Corioli gates, where he hath won,
With fame, a name to Caius Marcius.
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus.

All.
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus.

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

Cominius.
Look, Sir, your mother—

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

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

Coriolanus.
My gracious silence, hail!
Thou moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle
That's curdled by the frost from purest snow,
And hang's on Dian's temple. Dear Volumnia,
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.

Volumnia.
This is a poor epitome of yours; [Presenting his son to him.
Which, by the interpretation of full time,
May shew like all yourself.

Coriolanus.
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!

Menenius.
Now the Gods crown thee!

Veturia.
I know not where to turn. O welcome home!
And wecome general! Y'are welcome all!

Menenius.
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 very 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. Welcome, warriors!
We call a nettle but a nettle, and
The faults of fools but folly.

Cominius.
Ever right.

Coriolanus.
Menenius, ever, ever.

Herald.
Give way there, and go on.

Coriolanus.
'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 honours.

Veturia.
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.

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

Cominius.
On to the Capitol. [Flourish, exeunt in state as before. SCENE IV. Brutus and Sicinius come forward.

Brutus.
All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights
Are spectacled to see him.

Sicinius.
On the sudden,
I warrant him Consul.

Brutus.
Then our office may,
During his power, go sleep.

Sicinius.
He cannot temp'rately transport his honours
From where he should begin and end; but will
Lose those he hath won.

Brutus.
In that there's comfort.

Sicinius.
Doubt not,
The commoners, for whom we stand, but they,
Upon their ancient malice, will forget,
With the least cause, these his new honours; which
That he will give, make I as little question
As he is proud to do't.

Brutus.
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 the people, beg their stinking breaths.

Sicinius.
'Tis right.

Brutus.
It was his word: Oh, he would miss it, rather
Than carry it; but by the suit o' th' gentry,
And the desire o' th' nobles.

Sicinius.
I wish no better,
Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it
In execution.

Brutus.
'Tis most like he will.

Sicinius.
It shall be to him then
A sure destruction.

Brutus.
So it must fall out
To him, or to our authorities. For which end,
We must suggest the people, in what hatred
He still hath held them; that to's power he would
Have made them mules, silenc'd their pleaders, and
Disproperty'd their freedoms: holding them
In human action and capacity,
Of no more soul nor fitness for the world

Than camels in their war; who have their provender
Only for bearing burthens, and sore blows
For sinking under them.

Sicinius.
This, as you say, suggested
At some time, when his soaring insolence
Shall reach the people, (which time shall not be wanting,
If he be put upon't; and that's as easy,
As to set dogs on sheep) will be the fire
To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze
Shall darken him for ever. Enter Ædile.

Brutus.
What's the matter?

Ædile.
You're sent for to the Capitol: 'tis thought,
That Marcius shall be Consul: I have seen
The deaf 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; their nobles bended,
As to Jove's statue; and the commons made
A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts:
I never saw the like.

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

Sicinius.
Have with you. [Exeunt.

SCENE V. Senate-House. Enter the Patricians and Tribunes of the people, Lictors before them: Menenius, Cominius the consul, Marcus Minutius the other consul. Sicinius and Brutus take their places by themselves.

Menenius.
Having determin'd of the Volscians, and
To send for Titus Lartius, it remains,
As the main point of this our after-meeting,
To gratify his noble service, that
Hath thus stood for his country. Therefore, please you,
Most reverend and grave elders, to desire
The present consul, and last general,
In our well found successes, to report
A little of that worthy work perform'd
By Caius Marcius Coriolanus; whom
We meet here, both to thank, and to remember
With honours like himself.

First Senator.
Speak, good Cominius.

Cominius.
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: He stopt the fliers,
And by his rare example made the coward

Turn terror into sport. As waves before
A vessel under sail, so men obey'd,
And fell below his stern: his sword, (death's stamp)
Where it did mark, it took from face to foot;
He was a thing of blood, whose every motion
Was tim'd with dying groans: alone he entred
The mortal gate o'th' city, which he painted
With shunless destiny: Aidless came off,
And with a sudden re-enforcement struck
Corioli, like a planet. Nor all's this;
For by and by the din of war 'gan pierce
His ready sense, when strait his doubled spirit
Requicken'd what in body was fatigu'd,
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.

Menenius.
Worthy man!

First Senator.
He cannot but with measure fit the honours,
Which we devise him.

Cominius.
Our spoils he kick'd at,
And look'd upon things precious, as they were
The common muck o'th' world; he covets less
Than misery itself would give, rewards
His deeds with doing them, and is content
To spend his time to end it.

Menenius.
He's right noble,
Let him be call'd for.

First Senator.
Call Coriolanus.

Officer.
He doth appear.

Enter Coriolanus.

Menenius.
The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleas'd
To make thee Consul.

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

Menenius.
It then remains
That you do speak to the people.

Coriolanus.
I beseech you,
Let me o'erleap that custom; for I cannot
Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them,
For my wounds sake, to give their suffrages:
Please you, that I may pass this doing.

Sicinius.
Sir, the people must have their voices,
Nor will they bate one jot of ceremony.

Menenius.
Put them not to't: pray, fit you to the custom,
And take t'ye, as your predecessors have,
Your honour with your form.

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

Brutus.
Mark you that?

Coriolanus.
To brag unto them, thus I did,—and thus,—
Shew them unaking scars, which I would hide,
As if I had receiv'd them from the hire
Of their breath only.—

Menenius.
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.

Omnes.
To Coriolanus come all joy and honour, [Flourish cornets, then exeunt. Manent Sicinius and Brutus.

Brutus.
You see, how he intends to use the people.

Sicinius.
May they perceive's intent! he will require them,
As if he did contemn, what he requested,
Should be in them to give.

Brutus.
Come, we will inform them
Of our proceedings here: on the market place,
I know, they do attend us. [Exeunt. Scene 6 SCENE The Forum. Enter seven or eight Citizens.

First Citizen.
Once, if he do require our voices,
We ought not to deny him.

Second Citizen.

We may, Sir, if we will.

Third Citizen.

We have power in ourselves to do it; but it is a power that we have no power to do: for if he shews 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 our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is monstrous; and for the multitude to be ingrateful, were to make a monster of the multitude; of the which we being members, should bring ourselves to be monstrous members.

Enter Coriolanus in a gown, with Menenius.

Here he comes, and in the gown of humility; mark his behaviour: we are not to stay altogether, but to come by him where he stands, by ones, by twos, and by threes. 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.

Menenius.
Oh, Sir, you are not right; have you not known,
The worthiest men have done't?

Coriolanus.
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.

Menenius.
Oh me, the gods!
You must not speak of that, you must desire them
To think upon you.

Coriolanus.
Think upon me? Hang them.
I would, they would forget me.

Menenius.
You'll mar all.
I'll leave you: pray you, speak to them, I pray you,
In wholesome manner. [Exit. Citizens approach.

Coriolanus.
So, here comes a brace:
You know the cause, Sirs, of my standing here.

First Citizen.
We do, Sir; tell us what has brought you to't.

Coriolanus.
Mine own desert.

Second Citizen.
Your own desert?

Coriolanus.
Ay, not mine own desire.

First Citizen.
How! not your own desire?

Coriolanus.
No, Sir, 'twas never yet my desire to trouble
The poor with begging.

First Citizen.

You must think, if we give you any thing, we hope to gain by you.

Coriolanus.

Well then, I pray, you're price o'th' consulship?

First Citizen.

The price is, to ask it kindly.

Coriolanus.

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?

Second Citizen.

You shall ha't, worthy Sir.

Coriolanus.
A match, Sir; there's in all two worthy voices begg'd:
I have your alms, adieu.

First Citizen.
But, this is something odd.

Second Citizen.
An 'twere to give again:—but 'tis no matter. [Exeunt. Enter three Citizens more.

Coriolanus.
Here comes more voices.
Your voices—for your voices I have fought,

Watch'd for your voices; for your voices, bear
Of wounds two dozen and odd: Battles thrice six
I've seen, and heard of: For your voices, have
Done many things, some less, some more—your voices:—

Third Citizen.

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

Fourth Citizen.

Therefore, let him be consul, the gods give him joy, and make him a good friend to the people.

All.
Amen, amen, heav'n save thee, noble consul. [Exeunt.

Coriolanus.
Worthy voices! Enter Menenius, Brutus, and Sicinius.

Menenius.
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.

Coriolanus.
Is this done?

Sicinius.
The custom of request you have discharg'd:
The people do admit you, and are summon'd
To meet anon, upon your approbation.

Coriolanus.
Where? at the senate-house?

Sicinius.
There, Coriolanus.

Coriolanus.
May I change these garments?

Sicinius.
You may, Sir.

Coriolanus.
That I'll straight do: and, knowing myself again,
Repair to the Senate-house. [Exeunt.

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

Brutus.
We stay here for the people.

Sicinius.
Fare you well. [Exeunt Coriolanus and Menenius.
He has it now, and by his looks, methinks,
'Tis warm at's heart.

Brutus.
With a proud heart he wore
His humble weeds: Will you dismiss the people? Enter Plebeians.

Sicinius.
How now, my masters, have you chose this man?

First Citizen.
He has our voices, Sir.

Brutus.
We pray the Gods, he may deserve your loves.

Second Citizen.
Amen, Sir, to my poor unworthy notice,
He mock'd us, when he begg'd our voices:

Third Citizen.
Certainly, he flouted us downright.

First Citizen.
No, 'tis his kind of speech, he did not mock us.

Second Citizen.
Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says
He us'd us scornfully: He should have shew'd us
His marks of merit, wounds receiv'd for's country.

Sicinius.
Why, so he did, I am sure.

All.
No, no man saw 'em.

Third Citizen.
He said he'd wounds, which he could shew in private;
And with his cap, thus waving it in scorn,
I would be consul, says he: Aged custom,
But by your voices, will not so permit me;
Your voices therefore: When we granted that,
Here was—I thank you for your voices—thank you—
Your most sweet voices—now you have left your voices,
I have nothing further with you. Wa'nt this mockery?

Sicinius.
Why, either, were you ignorant to see't?
Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness
To yield your voices?

Brutus.
Did you perceive,
He did sollicit you in free contempt,
When he did need your loves? And do you think
That his contempt shall not be bruising to you,
When he hath power to crush? Why, had your bodies
No heart among you? Or had your tongues, to cry
Against the rectorship of judgment?

Sicinius.
Have you,
Ere now deny'd the asker? And now again
On him that did not ask, but mock, bestow
Your su'd for tongues?

Third Citizen.
He's not confirm'd, we may deny him yet.

Second Citizen.
And, will deny him:
I'll have five hundred voices of that sound.

First Citizen.
I, twice five hundred, and their friends to piece 'em.

Brutus.
Get you hence, instantly, and tell those friends,

They've chose a consul that will from them take
Their liberties; make them of no more voice
Than dogs, that are as often beat for barking,
As therefore kept to do so.

Sicinius.
Let them assemble;
And on a safer judgment all revoke
Your ignorant election: Enforce his pride,
And his old hate to you.
When you have drawn your number,
Repair to th' Capitol.

All.
We will so; almost all repent in their election.

Brutus.
Let them go on: [Exeunt Plebeians
This mutiny were better put in hazard,
Than stay past doubt for greater:
If, as his nature is, he fall in rage
With their refusal, both observe and answer
The vantage of his anger.

Sicinius.
To th' Capitol, come;
We will be there before the stream o'th' people
And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own,
Which we have goaded onward. End of the FIRST ACT.

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