Men.
Go, get you to your House; be gone, away,
All will be naught else.

2 Sen.
Get you gone.

Com.
Stand fast, we have as many Friends as Enemies.

Men.
Shall it be put to that?

Sen.
The Gods forbid:
I prithee, noble Friend, home to thy House,
Leave us to cure this Cause.

Men.
For 'tis a Sore upon us,
You cannot Tent your self; begone, 'beseech you.

Com.
Come, Sir, along with us.

Men.
I would they were Barbarians, as they are,
Though in Rome litter'd; not Romans, as they are not,
Though calved in the Porch o'th' Capitol:
Begone, put not your worthy Rage into your Tongue,
One time will owe another.

Com.
On fair Ground I could beat forty of them.

Men.

I could my self take up a Brace o'th' best of them, yea, the two Tribunes.

Com.
But now 'tis odds beyond Arithmetick,
And Manhood is call'd Fool'ry when it stands
Against a falling Fabrick. Will you hence,
Before the Tag return, whose Rage doth rend
Like interrupted Waters, and o'er-bear
What they are us'd to bear.

Men.
Pray you, be gone:
I'll try whether my old Wit be in request

With those that have but little; this must be patcht
With Cloth of any Colour.

Com.
Nay, come away. [Exeunt Coriolanus and Cominius.

1 Sen.
This Man has marr'd his Fortune.

Men.
His Nature is too noble for the World:
He would not flatter Neptune for his Trident,
Or Jove, for's power to Thunder: His Heart's his Mouth:
What his Breast forges, that his Tongue must vent;
And being angry, does forget that ever
He heard the name of Death. [A noise within.
Here's goodly work.

2 Sen.
I would they were a-bed.

Men.
I would they were in Tyber.
What the vengeance, could he not speak 'em fair? Enter Brutus and Sicinius, with the Rabble again.

Sec.
Where is this Viper,
That would depopulate the City, and be every Man himself?

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
Than the severity of the Publick Power,
Which he so sets at nought.

1 Cit.
He shall well know the noble Tribunes are
The Peoples Mouths, and we their Hands.

All.
He shall sure out.

Men.
Sir, Sir.—

Sic.
Peace.

Men.
Do not cry havock, where you should but hunt
With modest warrant.

Sic.
Sir, how comes it that 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 Consul!—

All.
No, no, no, no, no.

Men.
If by the Tribunes leave,
And yours, good People,

I may be heard, I would crave a word or two,
The which shall turn you to no further harm,
Than so much loss of time.

Sic.
Speak briefly then,
For we are peremptory to dispatch
This viperous Traitor; to eject him hence
Were but one Danger, and to keep him here
Our certain Death; therefore it is decreed,
He dies to Night.

Men.
Now the good Gods forbid,
That our Renowned Rome, whose Gratitude
Towards her deserved Children, is enroll'd
In Jove's own Book, like an unnatural Dam
Should now eat up her own.

Sic.
He's a Disease that must be cut away.

Men.
Oh, he's a Limb, that has but a Disease;
Mortal, to cut it off; to cure it, easie.
What has he done to Rome, that's worthy Death?
Killing our Enemies, the Blood he hath lost
(Which I dare vouch, is more than that he hath,
By many an Ounce) he dropt it for his Country:
And what is left, to lose it by his Country,
Were to us all that do't, and suffer it
A brand to th' end o'th' World.

Sic.
This is clean kam.

Bru.
Meerly awry:
When he did love his Country, it honour'd him.

Men.
The service of the Foot,
Being once gangreen'd, is not then respected
For what before it was—

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, one word:
This Tiger-footed-rage, when it shall find
The harm of unskann'd swiftness, will (too late)
Tye leaden pounds to's Heels. Proceed by Process,
Lest Parties (as he is belov'd) break out,
And sack great Rome with Romans.

Bru.
If it were so—

Sic.
What do ye talk?
Have we not had a taste of his Obedience?
Our Ædiles smote, our selves resisted, come—

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 in peace,
Where he shall answer by a lawful Form,
In peace, to his utmost peril.

1 Sen.
Noble Tribunes,
It is the human way: The other course
Will prove too bloody, and the end of it
Unknown to the beginning.

Sic.
Noble Menenius, be you then as the Peoples Officer.
Masters, lay down your Weapons.

Bru.
Go not home.

Sic.
Meet on the Market-place; we'll attend you there,
Where, if you bring not Martius, we'll proceed
In our first way.

Men.
I'll bring him to you.
Let me desire your Company; he must come,
Or what is worst will follow.

1 Sen.
Pray you let's to him. [Exeunt. Enter Coriolanus with Nobles.

Cor.
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
Below the beam of sight, yet will I still
Be thus to them. Enter Volumnia.

Noble.
You do the Nobler.

Cor.
I muse, my Mother
Does not approve me further, who was wont
To call them Wooden Vassals, things created
To buy and sell with Groats, to shew bare Heads
In Congregations, to yawn, be still, and wonder,
When one but of my Ordinance stood up
To speak of Peace, or War. I talk of you,

Why did you wish me milder? Wou'd you have me
False to my Nature? Rather say, I play
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.

Cor.
Let's go.

Vol.
You might have been enough the Man you are,
With striving less to be so. Lesser had been
The things that thwart your Dispositions, if
You had not shew'd them how ye were dispos'd
E'er they lack'd power to cross you.

Cor.
Let them hang.

Vol.
Ay, and burn too. Enter Menenius with the Senators.

Men.

Come, come, you have been too rough, something too rough: You must return, and mend it.

Sen.
There's no Remedy,
Unless by not so doing, our good City
Cleave in the midst, and perish.

Vo.
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' Heart, but that
The violent Fit o'th' Times craves it as Physick
For the whole State, I would put mine Armour on,
Which I can scarcely bear.

Cor.
What must I do?

Men.
Return to th' Tribunes.

Cor.
Well, what then? what then?

Men.
Repent what you have spoke.

Cor.
For them? I cannot do it for the Gods,
Must I then do't to them?

Vol.
You are too absolute,
Tho' therein you can never be too Noble,
But when Extremities speak. I have 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 lose,
That they combine not there?

Cor.
Tush, tush—

Men.
A good Demand.

Vol.
If it be Honour in your Wars, to seem
The same you are not, which for your best ends
You adopt your Policy: How is it less or worse
That it shall hold Companionship in Peace
With Honour, as in War; since that to both
It stands in like request.

Cor.
Why force you this?

Vol.
Because, that
Now it lyes you on to speak to the People:
Not by your own Instruction, nor by the Matter
Which your Heart prompts you to, but with such Words
That are but roated in your Tongue:
Tho' but Bastards, and Syllables
Of no Allowance, to your Bosom's Truth.
Now, this no more Dishonours you at all,
Than to take in a Town with gentle Words,
Which else would put you to your Fortune, and
The hazard of much Blood.
I would dissemble with my Nature, where
My Fortunes and my Friends at Stake, requir'd
I should do so in Honour. I am in this
Your Wife, your Son: These Senators, the Nobles,
And you, will rather shew our general Lowts,
How you can frown, than spend a Fawn upon 'em,
For the Inheritance of their Loves and Safegard
Of what that Want might ruin.

Men.
Noble Lady!
Come go with us, speak fair: You may salve so,
Not what is dangerous present, but the loss
Of what is past.

Vol.
I prithee now, my Son,
Go to them, with this Bonnet in thy Hand,
And thus far having stretch'd it (here be with them)
Thy Knee bussing the Stones: For in such Business
Action is Eloquence, and the Eyes of th' Ignorant
More Learned than the Ears, waving thy Head,
Which often thus correcting, thy stout Heart

Now humble as the ripest Mulberry,
That will not hold the Handling: Or 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 they to claim,
In asking their good Loves, but thou wilt frame
Thy self (forsooth) hereafter theirs so far,
As thou hast Power and Person.

Men.
This but done,
Even as she speaks, why their Hearts were yours:
For they have Pardons, being ask'd, as free,
As Words to little purpose.

Vol.
Prithee now,
Go and be rul'd: Altho' I know thou hadst rather
Follow thine Enemy to a fiery Gulf,
Than flatter him in a Bower. Enter Cominius.
Here is Cominius.

Com.
I have been i'th' Market-place, and Sir, 'tis fit
You have strong Party, or defend your self
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:
Prithee now say you will, and go about it.

Cor.
Must I go shew them my unbarbed Sconce?
Must I with 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 Plot, to lose
This Mould of Martius, they to Dust should bring it,
And throw't against the Wind. To the Market-place:
You have put me now to such a part, which never
I shall discharge to th' Life.

Com.
Come, come, we'll prompt you.

Vol.
Ay, prithee 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.

Cor.
Well, I must do't:
Away my Disposition, and possess me

Some Harlots Spirit: My Throat of War be turn'd,
Which quir'd with my Drum, into a Pipe,
Small as an Eunuch, or the Virgin Voice
That Babies lulls asleep; The Smiles of Knaves
Tent in my Cheeks, and School-boys Tears take up
The Glasses of my Sight: A Beggars Tongue
Make motion through my Lips, and my arm'd Knees
Who bow'd but in my Stirrup, bend like his
That hath receiv'd an Alms. I will not do't,
Lest I surcease to honour mine own Truth,
And by my Bodies Action, teach my Mind
A most inherent Baseness.

Val.
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 suck'st it from me:
But own thy Pride thy self.

Cor.
Pray be content:
Mother, I am 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 Wife, I'll return Consul,
Or never trust to what my Tongue can do
I'th' way of Flattery further.

Vol.
Do your Will. [Exit Volumnia.

Com.
Away, the Tribunes do attend you: Arm your self
To answer mildly: For they are prepar'd
With Accusations, as I hear, more strong
Than are upon you yet.

Cor.
The Word is, mildly. Pray you let us go.
Let them accuse me by Invention: I
Will answer in mine Honour.

Men.
Ay, but mildly,

Cor.
Well, mildly be it then, mildly. [Exeunt. Enter Sicinius and Brutus.

Bru.
In this Point charge him home, that he affects
Tyrannical Power: If he evade us there,

Inforce him with his envy to the People,
And that the Spoil got on the Antiats
Was ne'er distributed. What, will he come? Enter an Ædile.

Æd.
He's coming,

Bru.
How accompanied?

Æd.
With old Menenius, and those Senators
That always favour'd him.

Sic.
Have you a Catalogue
Of all the Voices that we have procur'd, set down by th' Poll?

Æd.
I have; 'tis ready.

Sic.
Have you collected them by Tribes?

Æd.
I have; 'tis ready.

Sic.
Assemble presently the People hither
And when they hear me say, it shall be so,
I'th' right and strength o'th' Commons; be it either
For Death, for Fine, or Banishment, then let them,
If I say Fine, cry Fine; if Death, cry Death,
Insisting on the old Prerogative
And power i'th' truth o'th' Cause.

Æd.
I will inform them.

Bru.
And when such time they have begun to cry,
Let them not cease, but with a din confus'd,
Inforce the present Execution
Of what we chance to Sentence.

Æd.
Very well.

Sic.
Make them be strong, and ready for this hint
When we shall hap to giv't them.

Bru.
Go about it,
Put him to Choler streight, he hath been us'd
Ever to conquer, and to have his word
Of Contradiction. Being once chaft, he cannot
Be rein'd again to Temperance; then he speaks
What's in his Heart; and that is there, which looks
With us to break his neck. Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, and Cominius, with others.

Sic.
Well, here he comes.

Men.
Calmly, I do beseech you.

Cor.
Ay, as an Hostler, that for the poorest peice
Will bear the Knave by th' Volume:
Th' Honoured Gods

Keep Rome in Safety, and the Chairs of Justice
Supplied with worthy Men, plant Love amongst you,
Through our large Temples, with the shews of Peace.

Cor.
And not our Streets with War.

1 Sen.
Amen, Amen.

Men.
A noble Wish. Enter the Ædile with the Plebeians.

Sic.
Draw near, ye People.

Æd.
List to your Tribunes: Audience;
Peace, I say.

Cor.
First, hear me speak.

Both Tri.
Well, say: Peace, ho.

Cor.
Shall I be charg'd no further than this present?
Must all determine here?

Sic.
I do demand,
If you submit you to the Peoples Voices,
Allow their Officers, and are content
To suffer lawful Censure for such faults
As shall be prov'd upon you?

Cor.
I am content.

Men.
Lo, Citizens, he says he is content:
The warlike Service he has done, consider; think
Upon the Wounds his Body bears, which shew
Like Graves i'th' holy Church-yard.

Cor.
Scatches with Briars, Scars to move
Laughter only.

Men.
Consider further:
That when he speaks not like a Citizen,
You find him like a Soldier; do not take
His rougher Actions for malicious Sounds:
But, as I say, such as become a Soldier,
Rather than envy you.

Com.
Well, well, no more.

Cor.
What is the matter,
That being past for Consul with full Voice,
I am so dishonour'd, that the very hour
You take it off again?

Sic.
Answer to us.

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

Sic.
We charge you, that you have contriv'd 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.

Cor.
How? Traitor?

Men.
Nay, temperately: your promise.

Cor.
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 lyest unto thee, with a Voice as free,
As I do pray the Gods.

Sic.
Mark you this, People?

All.
To th' Rock with him.

Sic.
Peace:
We need not put new Matter to his Charge:
What you have seen him do, and heard him speak,
Beating your Officers, cursing your selves,
Opposing Laws with Stroaks, and here defying
Those whose great Power must try him,
Even this so Criminal, and in such Capital kind,
Deserves th' extreamest Death.

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

Cor.
What do you prate of Service?

Bru.
I talk of that, that know it.

Cor.
You?—

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

Com.
Know, I pray you.—

Cor.
I'll know no farther:
Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian Death,
Vagabond Exile, Fleaing, 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 have't with saying, Good morrow.

Sic.
For that he has
(As much as in him lyes) from time to time
Envy'd against the People; seeking Means
To pluck away their Power; as now at last,
Given Hostile stroaks, and that not in the 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
(Ev'n from this instant) banish him our City,
In peril of Precipitation
From off the Rock Tarpeian, never more
To enter our Rome's Gates. I'th' People's Name,
I say it shall be so.

All.
It shall be so, it shall be so: Let him away:
He's Banish'd, and it shall be so.

Com.
Hear me, my Masters, and my common Friends—

Sic.
He's Sentenc'd: No more Hearing.

Com.
Let me speak:
I have been Consul, and can shew from Rome,
Her Enemies marks upon me. I do love
My Country's good, with a respect more tender,
More holy, and profound, than mine own Life,
My dear Wife's estimate, her Womb's increase,
And treasure of my Loyns: Then if I would
Speak that—

Sic.
We know your drift. Speak what?

Bru.
There's no more to be said, but he is banish'd
As Enemy to the People, and his Country.
It shall be so.

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

Cor.
You common cry of Curs, whose Breath I hate,
As reek o'th' rotten Fenns; whose Loves I prize,
As the dead Carkasses 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 (which finds not till it feels,
Making but reservation of your selves
Still your own Foes) deliver you
As most abated Captives, to some Nation
That won you without Blows, despising
For you the City. Thus I turn my Back;
There is a World elsewhere. [Exeunt Coriolanus, Cominius, and others. [The People shout, and throw up their Caps.

Ædile.
The Peoples Enemy is gone, is gone.

All.
Our Enemy is banish'd; he is gone. Hoo, hoo.

Sic.
Go see him out at Gates, and follow him
As he hath follow'd you; with all despight,
Give him deserv'd vexation. Let a Guard
Attend us through the City.

All.
Come, come; lets see him out at the Gates, come.
The Gods preserve our noble Tribunes, come. [Exeunt.