Cor.

What's the Matter?

Men.

Now you Champion; I'll say an Errant for you; you shall know now that I am in Estimation; you shall perceive, that a Jack-gardant cannot Office me from my Son Coriolanus, guess but my Entertainment with him; if thou stand'st not i'th' State of Hanging, or of some Death more long in Spectatorship, and crueller in suffering, behold now presently, and swoon for what's to come upon thee. The glorious Gods sit in hourly Synod about thy particular prosperity, and love thee no worse than thy old Father Menenius does. O my Son, my Son! thou art preparing Fire for us; look thee, here's Water to quench it. I was hardly mov'd to come to thee; but being assured

none but my self could move thee, I have been blown out of our Gates with sighs, and conjure thee to pardon Rome, and thy petitionary Countrymen. The good Gods asswage thy wrath, and turn the Dregs of it upon this Varlet here: This, who like a Block hath denied my Access to thee—

Cor.

Away.

Men.

How, away?

Cor.
Wife, Mother, Child, I know not. My Affairs
Are servanted to others: Though I owe
My Revenge properly, my Remission lyes
In Volscian Breasts. That we have been familiar,
Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison, rather
Than pity: Note how much,—therefore be gone.
Mine Ears against your Suits are stronger than
Your Gates against my Force. Yet for I loved thee,
Take this along, I writ it for thy sake,
And would have sent it. Another word, Menenius,
I will not hear thee speak. This Man, Aufidius,
Was my belov'd in Rome; yet thou behold'st—

Auf.
You keep a constant temper [Exeunt. Manent the Guard and Menenius.

1 Wat.
Now, Sir, is your name Menenius?

2 Wat.
'Tis a Spell you see of much Power:
You know the way home again.

1 Wat.

Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your Greatness back?

2 Wat.

What Cause do you think I have to swoon?

Men.

I neither care for th' World, nor your General: for such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, y'are so slight. He that hath a will to die by himself, fears it not from another: Let your General do his worst. For you, be that you are, long; and your Misery encrease with your Age. I say to you, as I was said to, Away.

1 Wat.
A noble Fellow, I warrant him.

2 Wat.
The worthy Fellow is our General. He's the
Rock, the Oak not to be wind-shaken. [Exit Watch. Enter Coriolanus and Aufidius.

Cor.
We will before the Walls of Rome to morrow
Set down our Host. My Partner in this Action,
You must report to th' Volscian Lords how plainly
I have born this Business.

Auf.
Only their Ends you have respected; stopt
Your Ears against the general Suit of Rome:
Never admitted a private Whisper, no not with such Friends
That thought them sure of you.

Cor.
This last, old Man,
Whom with a crack'd Heart I have sent to Rome,
Lov'd me above the measure of a Father;
Nay, Godded me indeed. Their latest Refuge,
Was to send him, for whose old Love, I have
(Tho' I shew'd sow'ry to him) once more offer'd
The first Conditions, which they did refuse,
And cannot now accept, to grace him only,
That thought he could do more: A very little
I have yielded to. Fresh Embassie, and Suits,
Nor for the State, nor private Friends hereafter
Will I lend Ear to. Ha! what shout is this? [Shout within.
Shall I be tempted to infringe my Vow
In the same time 'tis made? I will not. Enter Virgilia, Volumnia, Valeria, young Martius, with Attendants.
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 our Affection,
All Bond and Privilege of Nature break;
Let it be Virtuous, to be Obstinate.
What is that Court'sie worth? Or those Dove's Eyes,
Which can make Gods forsworn? I melt, and am not
Of stronger Earth than others: My Mother bows,
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 Volscies
Plough Rome, and harrow Italy; I'll never
Be such a Gosling to obey Inslinct: But stand
As if a Man were Author of himself, and knew no other Kin.

Vir.
My Lord and Husband

Cor.
These Eyes are not the same I wore in Rome.

Virg.
The Sorrow that delivers us thus chang'd,
Makes you think so.

Cor.
Like a dull Actor now, I have forgot my Part,
And I am out, even to a full Disgrace. Best of my Flesh,

Forgive my Tyranny, but do not say,
For that forgive our Romans. O a Kiss
Long as my Exile, sweet as my Revenge!
Now by the jealous Queen of Heaven, that Kiss
I carried from thee, Dear; and my true Lip
Hath Virgin'd it e'er since. You Gods, I pray to you,
And the most noble Mother of the World
Leave unsaluted: Sink my Knee i'th' Earth; [Kneels.
Of the deep Duty, more Impression shew
Than that of common Sons.

Vol.
O stand up blest!
Whilst with no softer Cushion than the Flint,
I kneel before thee, and unproperly
Shew Duty as mistaken all the while, [Kneels.
Between the Child and Parent.

Cor.
What's this? Your Knees to me?
To your Corrected Son?
Then let the Pebbles on the hungry Beach
Fillop the Stars: Then, let the mutinous Winds
Strike the proud Cedars 'gainst the fiery Sun:
Murd'ring impossibility to make
What cannot be, slight work.

Vol.
Thou art my Warrior, I hope to frame thee,
Do you know this Lady?

Cor.
The noble Sister of Poplicola:
The Moon of Rome, Chast as the Isicle,
That's curdied by the Frost from purest Snow,
And hangs on Dian's Temple: Dear Valeria—

Vol.
This is a poor Epitome of yours,
Which by th' interpretation of full time,
May shew like all your self.

Cor.
The God of Soldiers,
With the consent of supream Jove, inform
Thy Thoughts with Nobleness, that thou may'st prove
To Shame unvulnerable, and strike i'th' Wars,
Like a great Sea-mark, standing every flaw,
And saving those that Eye thee.

Vol.
Your Knee, Sirrah.

Cor.
That's my brave Boy.

Vol.
Even he, your Wife, this Lady, and my self,
Are Suiters to you.

Cor.
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 have 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 you fail in our request, the blame
May hang upon your hardness; therefore hear us.

Cor.
Aufidius, and you Volscies, mark; for we'll
Hear nought from Rome in private. Your Request?

Vol.
Should we be silent and not speak, our Raiment
And state of Bodies would bewray what Life
We have led since thy Exile. Think with thy self,
How more unfortunate than living Women
Are we come hither; since that thy sight, which should
Make our Hearts flow with Joy, Hearts dance with Comforts,
Constrains them weep, and shake with Fear and Sorrow,
Making the Mother, Wife, and Child to see,
The Son, the Husband, and the Father tearing
His Country's Bowels out: And to poor we,
Thine Enmity's most Capital: Thou barr'st us
Our Prayers to the Gods, which is a comfort
That all but we enjoy. For how can we?
Alas! how can we, for our Country pray,
Whereto we are bound? Together with thy Victory,
Whereto we are bound? Alack, or we must lose
The Country, our dear Nurse, or else thy Person
Our comfort in the Country. We must find
An eminent Calamity, tho' we had
Our wish, which side shou'd win. For either thou
Must, as a Foreign Recreant be led
With Manacles through our Streets, or else
Triumphantly tread on thy Country's Ruin,
And bear the Palm, for having bravely shed
Thy Wife and Childrens Blood: For my self, Son,

I purpose not to wait on Fortune, 'till
These Wars determine: If I cannot perswade thee
Rather to shew a noble grace to both parts,
Than seek the end of one; thou shalt no sooner
March to assault thy Country, than to tread
(Trust to't, thou shall not) on thy Mother's Womb
That brought thee to this World.

Virg.
Ay, and mine too, that brought you forth this Boy,
To keep your Name living to Time.

Boy.
A shall not tread on me: I'll run away
Till I am bigger, but then I'll fight.

Cor.
Not of a Woman's tenderness to be,
Requires no Child, nor Woman's Face to see:
I have sate 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 Volscies, whom you serve, you might condemn us,
As poysonous of your Honour. No, our suit
Is that you reconcile them: While the Volscies
May say, this Mercy we have shew'd; the Romans
This we receiv'd, and each in either side
Give the All-hail to thee, and cry, be blest
For making up this Peace. Thou know'st, Great Son,
The end of War's uncertain; but this certain,
That if thou conquer Rome, the benefit
Which thou shalt thereby reap, is such a Name,
Whose repetition will be dogg'd with Curses:
Whose Chronicle thus writ, The Man was Noble—
But with his last Attempt, he wip'd it out,
Destroy'd his Country, and his Name remains
To th' ensuing Age, abhorr'd. Speak to me Son:
Thou hast affected the five strains of Honour,
To imitate the Graces of the Gods.
To tear with Thunder the wide Cheeks o'th' Air,
And yet to change thy Sulphur with a Bolt,
That should but rive an Oak. Why dost not speak?
Think'st thou it Honourable for a Noble Man
Still to remember Wrongs? Daughter, speak you:
He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, Boy,
Perhaps thy Childishness, will move him more

Than can our Reasons. There is no Man in the World
More bound to's Mother, yet here he lets me prate
Like one i'th' Stocks. Thou hast never in thy Life,
Shew'd thy dear Mother any Curtesie,
When she (poor Hen) fond of no second Brood,
Has cluck'd thee to the Wars, and safely home
Loaden with Honour. Say my Request's unjust,
And spurn me back: But if it be not so,
Thou art not Honest, and the Gods will plague thee
That thou restrain'st from me the Duty, which
To a Mother's part belongs. He turns away;
Down Ladies; let us shame him with our Knees.
To his Sir-name, Coriolanus, 'longs more Pride,
Than Pity to our Prayers. Down; and end,
This is the last. So, we will home to Rome,
And die among our Neighbours: Nay, behold's.
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. Come, let us go:
This Fellow had a Volscian to his Mother;
His Wife is in Coriolus, and his Child
Like him by chance; yet give us out Dispatch:
I am husht until our City be afire, and then I'll speak a little. [Holds her by the Hand, silent.

Cor.
O Mother, Mother!
What have you done? Behold, the Heavens do ope,
The Gods look down, and this unnatural Scene
They laugh at. Oh, my Mother, Mother: Oh!
You have won a happy Victory to Rome.
But for your Son, believe it, Oh believe it,
Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd,
If not most Mortal to him. But let it come:—
Aufidius, though I cannot make true Wars,
I'll frame convenient Peace. Now, good Aufidius,
Were you in my stead, would you have heard
A Mother less? Or granted less, Aufidius?

Auf.
I was mov'd withal.

Cor.
I dare be sworn you were;
And, Sir, it is no little thing to make
Mine Eyes to sweat Compassion. But, good Sir,

What Peace you'll make, advise me: For my part,
I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you, and pray you
Stand to me in this Cause. O Mother! Wife!

Auf.
I am glad thou hast set thy Mercy, and thy Honour
A difference in thee; out of that I'll work [Aside.
My self a former Fortune.

Cor.
Ay, by and by; but we will drink together;
And you shall bear [To Vol. Virg, &c.
A better witness back than words, which we
On like Conditions, will have counter-seal'd.
Come, enter with us: Ladies, you deserve
To have a Temple built you: All the Swords
In Italy, and her Confederate Arms
Could not have made this Peace. [Exeunt.

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