Brutus.
Men.
The augurer note tells me we shall have news to-night.
Bru.
Good or bad?
Men.
Not according to the prayer of the people, for
they love not Marcius.
Sic.
Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.
Men.
Pray you, who note does the wolf love?
Sic.
The lamb.
Men.
Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would
the noble Marcius.
Bru.
He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear.
Men.
He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You
two are old men: tell me one thing that I shall ask you.
Both.
Well, sir.
Men.
In what note enormity is Marcius poor in note, that you
two have not in abundance?
Bru.
He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all note.
Sic.
Especially in pride note.
Bru.
And topping all others in boasting note.
Men.
This is strange now: do you two know how you
are censured here in the city, I mean of us o' note the right-hand note
file? do you?
Both. note
Why, how are note we censured?
-- 309 --
Men.
Because you talk of pride now,—will you not be
angry?
Both.
Well, well, sir, well.
Men.
Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of
occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience: give your
dispositions note the reins, and be angry at your pleasures; at
the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you in being so.
You blame Marcius for being proud? note
Bru.
We do it not alone, sir.
Men.
I know you can do very little alone; for your helps
are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous single:
your abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone. You
talk of pride: O that you could turn your eyes toward note the
napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of
your good selves! O that you could!
Both. note
What then, sir?
Men.
Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting note,
proud, violent, testy magistrates, alias fools, as
any in Rome.
Sic.
Menenius, you are known well enough too.
Men.
I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one
that loves a cup of hot wine with not note a drop of allaying Tiber
in't; said to be something imperfect note in favouring the first note
complaint note, hasty and tinder-like upon too note trivial motion;
one that converses more with the buttock of the night than
with the forehead of the morning: what I think I utter, and
spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two such wealsmen
as you are,—I cannot call you note Lycurguses—if the drink
you give me touch my palate adversely, I make a crooked
-- 310 --
face at it. I can't note say your worships have delivered the
matter well, when I find the ass in compound with the major
part of your syllables: and though I must be content to bear
with those that say you are reverend grave men note, yet they
lie deadly that tell you you note have good faces. If you see this
in the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known
well enough too? what harm can your bisson note conspectuities
glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too?
Bru.
Come, sir, come, we know you well enough.
Men.
You know neither me, yourselves, nor any thing.
You are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs: you wear
out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a cause between
an orange note-wife and a fosset note-seller, and then rejourn the note controversy
of three-pence to a second day of audience. When
you are hearing a matter between note party and party, if you
chance to be pinched with the colic, you make faces like
mummers; set up the bloody flag against all patience; and,
in roaring for a chamber-pot, dismiss the controversy bleeding note,
the more entangled by your hearing: all the peace you
make in their cause is, calling both the parties knaves. You
are a pair of strange ones.
Bru.
Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter
giber for the table than a necessary bencher in the
Capitol.
Men.
Our very priests must become mockers, if they
shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When
you speak best unto the purpose, it note is not worth the wagging
of your beards; and your beards deserve not so honourable
a grave as to stuff a botcher's cushion, or to be entombed
in an ass's note pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is
-- 311 --
proud; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors
since Deucalion; though peradventure some of the
best of 'em note were hereditary hangmen. God-den note to your
worships: more of your conversation would infect my brain,
being the herdsmen note of the beastly plebeians note: I will be bold
to take my leave of you.
[Brutus note and Sicinius go aside.
Enter note Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria.
note
How now, my as fair as noble ladies,—and the moon, were
she earthly, no nobler—whither do you follow your eyes so
fast?
Vol.
Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches;
for the love of Juno, let's go.
Men.
Ha! Marcius coming home!
Vol.
Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosperous
approbation.
Men.
Take my cap note, Jupiter, and I thank thee. Hoo!
noteMarcius coming home!
Vir. Val. note
Nay, 'tis true.
Vol.
Look, here's a letter from him: the state hath
another, his wife another; and, I think, there's one at home
for you.
Men.
I will make my very house reel to-night: a letter
for me!
Vir.
Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw 't.
Men.
A letter for me! it gives me an estate of seven
years' health; in which time I will make a lip at the physician:
the most sovereign prescription in Galen is but empiricutic note,
-- 312 --
and, to this preservative, of no better report than a
horse-drench. Is he not wounded? he was wont to come
home wounded.
Vir.
O, no, no, no.
Vol.
O, he is wounded; I thank the gods for't.
Men.
So do I too, if it be not too much: brings a' note victory
in his pocket? note the wounds become him.
Vol.
On's brows: Menenius, note he comes the third time
home with the oaken garland.
Men.
Has note he disciplined Aufidius soundly?
Vol.
Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but
Aufidius got off.
Men.
And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that:
an note he had stayed by him, I would not have been so fidiused
for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold that's in them. Is
the senate possessed of this?
Vol.
Good ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes; the senate has
letters from the general, wherein he gives my son the whole
name of the war: he hath in this action outdone his former
deeds doubly.
Val.
In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him.
Men.
Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without
his true purchasing.
Vir.
The gods grant them true!
Vol.
True! pow, wow. note
Men.
True! I'll be sworn they are true. Where is he
wounded? [To the Tribunes note] God save your note good worships! note
Marcius is coming home: he has more cause to be
proud. Where is he wounded?
Vol. note
I' the shoulder and i' the left arm: there will be
-- 313 --
large cicatrices to show the people, when he shall stand for
his place. He received in the repulse of Tarquin seven
hurts i' the body.
Men.
One i' the neck, and two note i' the thigh; note there's nine
that I know.
Vol.
He had, before this note last expedition, twenty five
wounds upon him.
Men.
Now it's note twenty seven: every gash was an enemy's
grave. [A shout and flourish. note] Hark! the trumpets.
Vol.
These are the ushers of Marcius: before him he
carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears: note
Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie;
Which, being advanced, declines, and then men die. note
A sennet. note Trumpets sound. Enter Cominius and Titus Lartius note;
between them, Coriolanus, crowned with an oaken garland;
with Captains and Soldiers, and a Herald.
note
Her.
Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight
Within Corioli note gates: where he hath won,
With fame, a name to Caius Marcius note; these
In honour note follows note Coriolanus note.
Welcome to Rome, renowned note Coriolanus!
[Flourish. note
-- 314 --
All.
Welcome to Rome, renowned note Coriolanus!
Cor.
No more of this, it does offend my heart;
Pray now, no more.
Com.
Look, sir, your mother!
Cor.
O,
You have, I know, petition'd all the gods
For my prosperity note!
[Kneels.
Vol.
Nay, my good note soldier, up;
My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and
By note deed-achieving note honour newly named,—
What is it?—Coriolanus must I call thee?—
note
But, O, thy wife!
Cor.
My gracious silence, hail!
Wouldst 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 note,
And mothers that lack sons.
Men.
Now, the gods crown thee!
Cor.
And live you yet? [To Valeria note] O my sweet lady, pardon.
Vol.
I know not where to turn: O, welcome home:
And welcome, general: and ye're note welcome all note.
Men.
A hundred thousand welcomes. I could weep
And I could laugh, I am note light and heavy. Welcome:
A curse begin at very root on's note heart,
That is not glad to see thee! You are three
That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith of men,
-- 315 --
We have note some old crab-trees here at home that will not
Be grafted to your relish note. Yet note welcome, warriors:
We call a nettle but a nettle, and
The faults of fools but folly. note
Com.
Ever right.
Cor.
Menenius, ever, ever. note note
Her.
Give way there, and go on.
Cor. [To Volumnia and Virgilia note]
Your hand, and yours:
Ere in our own house I do shade my head,
The good patricians must be visited;
From whom I have received not only greetings,
But with them change note of honours note.
Vol.
I have lived
To see inherited my very wishes
And note the buildings note of my fancy: only
There's note note one thing wanting, which I doubt not but
note
Our Rome will cast upon thee. note
Cor.
Know, good mother,
I had rather be their servant in my way
Than note sway with them in theirs.
Com.
On, to the Capitol!
[Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before. Brutus and Sicinius come forward. note
-- 316 --
note
Bru.
All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights
Are spectacled to see him: your prattling nurse
Into note a rapture note lets her baby cry
While she chats note him: the kitchen malkin note pins
Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck,
Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls note, bulks, windows,
Are smother'd up, leads fill'd and ridges horsed note
With variable complexions, all agreeing
In earnestness to see him: seld-shown note flamens
Do press among the popular throngs, and puff
To win a vulgar station: our veil'd dames
Commit the war note of white and damask in
Their note nicely-gawded cheeks to the wanton spoil
Of Phœbus' burning kisses: such a pother note,
As if that whatsoever god who leads him
Were slily crept into his human note powers,
And gave him graceful posture note.
Sic.
On the sudden,
I warrant him consul.
Bru.
Then our office may,
During his power, go sleep. note
Sic.
He cannot temperately transport his honours
From note where he should begin and end note, but will
Lose those he note hath note won.
-- 317 --
Bru.
In that there's comfort.
Sic.
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 note
That he will note give them note make I note as little question
As note he is proud note to do't.
Bru.
I heard him swear,
Were he to stand for consul, never would he
Appear i' the market-place, nor on him put
The napless note vesture of humility,
Nor showing, as the manner is, his wounds
To the people, beg their stinking breaths.
Sic.
'Tis right.
Bru.
It was his word: O, he would miss it rather
Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him
And the desire of the note nobles. note
Sic.
I wish no better
Than have him hold that purpose and to put it
In execution. note
Bru.
'Tis most like he will.
Sic.
It shall be to him then, as note our good wills note,
A sure destruction. note
Bru.
So it must fall out
To him or our authorities. For an end note, note
We must suggest the people in what hatred
-- 318 --
He still hath held them; that to's note power he would
Have made them mules, silenced their pleaders and note
Dispropertied note their freedoms; holding them,
In human note action and capacity,
Of no more soul nor fitness for the world
Than camels in the war note, who have their provand note
Only for bearing burthens, and sore blows
For sinking under them.
Sic.
This, as you say, suggested
At some time when his soaring note insolence
Shall touch note the people—which time note shall not want,
If he be put upon't; and that's as easy
As to set dogs on sheep—will be his note fire
To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze
Shall darken him for ever.
Enter a Messenger.
Bru.
What's the matter?
Mess.
You are note sent for to the Capitol note. 'Tis thought
That Marcius shall be consul:
I have seen the dumb men throng to see him and
The blind to hear him speak: matrons flung note gloves, note
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers note,
Upon him as he pass'd: the nobles bended,
-- 319 --
As to Jove's statue, and the commons made
A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts:
I never saw the like.
Bru.
Let's to the Capitol,
And carry with us ears and eyes for the time,
But hearts for the event.
Sic.
Have with you.
[Exeunt.
note
William Aldis Wright [1863–1866], The works of William Shakespeare edited by William George Clark... and John Glover [and William Aldis Wright] (Macmillan and Co., London) [word count] [S10701].
