SCENE I.
Rome. A publick Place.
Enter Menenius, Cominius, Sicinius, Brutus, and Others.
Men.
No, I'll not go: you hear, what he hath said,
-- 106 --
Which was sometime his general; who lov'd him
In a most dear particular. He call'd me, father:
But what o'that? Go, you that banish'd him,
A mile before his tent fall down, and knee note
The way into his mercy: Nay, if he coy'd
To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home.
Com.
He would not seem to know me.
Men.
Do you hear?
Com.
Yet one time he did call me by my name:
I urg'd our old acquaintance, and the drops
That we have bled together. Coriolanus
He would not answer to: forbad all names;
He was a kind of nothing, titleless,
'Till he had forg'd himself a name o'the fire
Of burning Rome.
Men.
Why, so; you have made good work.
A pair of tribunes, that have rack'd for Rome
To make coals cheap: A noble memory.
Com.
I minded him, how royal 'twas to pardon
When it was less expected: note He reply'd,
It was a bare petition of a state,
To one whom they had punish'd.
Men.
Very well:
Could he say less?
Com.
I offer'd to awaken his regard
For his private friends: His answer to me was,
He could not stay to pick them, in a pile
Of noisome, musty chaff: He said, 'twas folly,
For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt,
And still to nose the offence.
Men.
For one poor grain or two?
I am one of those; his mother, wife, his child,
-- 107 --
And this brave fellow too, we are the grains:
You are the musty chaff; and you are smelt
Above the moon: We must be burnt for you.
Sic.
Nay, pray, be patient: If you refuse your aid
In this so never-needed note help, yet do not
Upbraid us with our distress. But, sure, if you
Would be your country's pleader, your good tongue,
More than the instant army we can make,
Might stop our countryman.
Men.
No, I'll not meddle.
Sic.
I pray you, go to him.
Men.
What should I do?
Bru.
Only make trial what your love can do,
For Rome, towards Marcius.
Men.
Well, and say14Q1007 that Marcius
Return me, as Cominius is return'd,
Unheard,—What then?—a discontented note friend,
Grief-shot with his unkindness? Say't be so?
Sic.
Say it be so; yet your good will, Menenius,
Must have that thanks from Rome, after the measure
As you intended well.
Men.
I'll undertake't:
I think, he'll hear me. Yet to bite his lip,
And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me.
He was not taken well; he had not din'd:
The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then
We pout upon the morning, are unapt
To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd
These pipes, and these conveyances of our blood,
With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls
Than in our priest-like fasts: therefore I'll watch him
'Till he be dieted to my request,
-- 108 --
And then I'll set upon him.
Bru.
You know the very road into his kindness,
And cannot lose your way.
Men.
Good faith, I'll prove him,
Speed how it will. I shall note ere long have knowledge
Of my success.
[Exit Menenius.
Com.
He'll never hear him.
Sic.
No? note
Com.
I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye
Red as 'twould burn Rome; and his injury
The jailer to his pity. I kneel'd before him:
'Twas very faintly he said, Rise; dismiss'd me
Thus, † with his speechless hand: What he would do,14Q1008
He sent in writing after me; what he would not,
Bound with an oath, to yield to his conditions.
So that all hope is vain;
Unless from his noble mother, and his wife,
Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him
For mercy to his country: Therefore, let's hence,
And with our fair entreaties haste them on.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
An advanc'd Post of the Volcian Camp before Rome. Certain of the Guard upon Duty:
Enter, to them, Menenius.
1. G.
Stay: Whence are you?
2. G.
Stand, and go back.
Men.
You guard like men; 'tis well: But, by your leave,
I am an officer of state, and come
To speak with Coriolanus.
1. G.
From whence?
Men.
From Rome.
-- 109 --
1. G.
You may not pass, you must return: our general
Will no more hear from thence.
2. G.
You'll see your Rome embrac'd with fire, before
You'll speak with Coriolanus.
Men.
Good my friends,
If you have heard your general talk of Rome,
And of his friends there, it is lots to blanks,
My name hath touch'd your ears: it is, Menenius.
1. G.
Be it so; go back: the virtue of your name
Is not here passable.
Men.
I tell thee, fellow,
Thy general is my lover: I have been
The book of his good acts, whence men have read
His fame unparallel'd, haply, amplify'd.
For I have ever verify'd14Q1009 my friends
(Of whom he's chief) with all the size that verity
Would without lapsing suffer: nay, sometimes,
Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground,
I have tumbl'd past the throw; and in his praise
Have, almost, stamp'd the leasing: Therefore, fellow,
I must have leave to pass.
1. G.
'Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies in his
behalf, as you have utter'd words in your own, you
should not pass here: no, though it were as virtuous to
lie, as to live chastly. Therefore, go back.
Men.
Pr'ythee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius,
always factionary on the party of your general.
2. G.
Howsoever you have been his liar, (as you say,
you have) I am one that, telling true under him, must
say, you cannot pass. Therefore, go back.
Men.
Has he din'd, can'st thou tell? for I would not
speak with him 'till after dinner.
-- 110 --
1. G.
You are a Roman, are you?
Men.
I am as thy general is.
1. G.
Then you should hate Rome, as he does. Can
you, when you have push'd out of your gates the very
defender of them, and, in a violent popular ignorance,
given your enemy your shield, think to front note his revenges
with the easy groans of old women, the virginal
palms of your daughters, or with the palsy'd intercession
of such a decay'd dotant note as you seem to be? Can
you think to blow out the intended fire, your city is ready
to flame in, with such weak breath as this? No, you are
deceiv'd; therefore, back to Rome, and prepare for your
execution: you are condemn'd, our general has sworn
you out of reprieve and pardon.
Men.
Sirrah, if thy captain note knew I were here, he would
use me with estimation.
1. G.
Come, my captain knows you not.
Men.
I mean, thy general.
1. G.
My general cares not for you. Back, I say, go,
lest I let forth your half pint of blood;—back,—that's
the utmost of your having:—back.
Men.
Nay, but fellow, fellow,—
Enter Coriolanus, and Aufidius.
Cor.
What's the matter?
Men.
Now, you companion, I'll say an errand for you;
you shall know now, that I am in estimation; you shall
perceive that a Jack guardant cannot office me from my
son Coriolanus: guess, by my note entertainment with him, if
thou stand'st not i'the 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
-- 111 --
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 moved to come to thee: but being assured,
none but myself could move thee, I have been blown out
of your gates note with sighs; and conjure thee to pardon Rome,
and thy petitionary countrymen. The good gods assuage
thy wrath, and turn the dregs of it upon this varlet here;
† this, who, like a block, hath deny'd 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 lies
In Volcian breasts. That we have been familiar,
Ingrate forgetfulness shall prison note, 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 lov'd thee,
Take this &dagger2; 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 Coriolanus, and Aufidius.
1. G.
Now, sir, is your name Menenius.
2. G.
'Tis a spell, you see, of much power: You know
the way home again.
1. G.
Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your
greatness back?
2. G.
What cause, do you think, I have to swoon?
Men.
I neither care for th'world, nor your general: for
-- 112 --
such things as you, I scarce think there's any, you're 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 increase with
your age! I say to you, as I was said to, Away.
[Exit.
1. G.
A noble fellow, I warrant him.
2. G.
The worthy fellow is our general:
He is the rock, the oak not to be wind-shaken.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Tent of Coriolanus.
Enter Coriolanus, Aufidius, and Others.
Cor.
We will before the walls of Rome to-morrow
Set down our host.—My partner in this action,
You must report to the Volcian lords, how plainly
I still 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
(Though I shew'd sourly to him) once more offer'd
The first conditions, which they did refuse, note
And cannot now accept, to grace him only,
That thought he could do more; a very little
I have yielded too: note Fresh embassies and suits,
Nor from the state, nor private friends, hereafter
Will I lend ear to. [Shout within.] Ha! what shout is this?14Q1010
-- 113 --
Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow
In the same time 'tis made? I will not.—
Enter, in neglected and mourning Habits,
Virgilia, Volumnia leading in her Hand young
Marcius, Valeria, and other Ladies.
My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mold
Wherein this trunk was fram'd, and in her hand
The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affection;
All bond and priviledge of nature, break:
Let it be virtuous, to be obstinate.—
What is that curt'sy 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 aspéct of intercession, which
Great nature cries, Deny not.—Let the Volcians
Plough Rome, and harrow Italy; I'll never
Be such a gosling to obey instínct; 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.
Vir.
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
-- 114 --
I carry'd from thee, dear; and my true lip
Hath virgin'd it e'er since.—You gods, I prate note,
And the most noble mother of the world
Leave unsaluted: Sink, my knee, i'the earth;
Of thy deep duty more impression shew
Than that of common sons.
Vol.
O, stand up blest!
[raising him.
Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint,
I kneel before thee; and unproperly
Shew duty, as mistaken all this while
Between the child and parent.
Cor.
What's this?
[preventing her.
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 holp to note frame thee. Do you know this lady?
Cor.
The noble sister of Publicola note,
The moon of Rome; chast as the isicle,
That's curdl'd note 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 yourself.
Cor.
The god of soldiers,
With the consent of supream Jove, inform
Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou may'st prove
To shame invulnerable, and stick note i'the wars
Like a great-sea-mark, standing every flaw,
-- 115 --
And saving those that eye thee!
Vol.
Your knee, sirrah.
Cor.
That's my brave boy.
Vol.
Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself,
Are suitors to you.
Cor.
I beseech you, peace:
Or, if you'd ask, remember this before;
The things note I have forsworn to grant, may never
Be held by you denials. Do not bid me
Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate
Again with Rome's mechanicks: Tell me not
Wherein I seem unnatural: Desire not
To allay my rages and revenges, with
Your colder reasons.
Vol.
O, 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 we fail note in our request, the blame
May hang upon your hardness: therefore hear us.
Cor.
Aufidius, and you Volcians, mark; for we'll
Hear nought from Rome in private.—Your request?
[seats himself.
Vol.
Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment
And state of bodies would bewray what life
We have led since thy exíle. Think with thyself,
How more unfortunate than all living note women
Are we come hither: since that thy sight, which should
Make our eyes 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
-- 116 --
His country's bowels out. And to poor we
Thine enmity's most capital: thou bar'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 evident calamity, though we had
Our wish, which side should win: for either thou
Must, as a foreign recreant, be led
With manacles thorough note our streets; or else
Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin;
And bear the palm, for having bravely shed
Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son,
I purpose not to wait on fortune, 'till
These wars determine: if I cannot persuade 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 shalt not) on thy mother's womb,
That brought thee to this world.
Vir.
Ay, and on mine,
That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name
Living to time.
Boy.
He 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 nor child nor woman's face to see.
I have sat too long.
[rising.
Vol.
Nay, go not from us thus.
-- 117 --
If it were so, that our request did tend
To save the Romans, thereby to destroy
The Volcians whom you serve, you might condemn us,
As poisonous note of your honour: No; our suit
Is, that you reconcile them: while the Volcians
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 dog'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 the ensuing age, abhor'd. Speak to me, son:
Thou hast affected14Q1011 the fine note strains note of honour,
To imitate the graces of the gods;
To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o'the air,
And yet to charge note thy sulphur with a bolt
That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak?
Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man note,
Still to remember wrongs?—Daughter, speak you:
He cares not for you weeping.—Speak thou, boy;
Perhaps, thy childishness will move him more
Than can our reasons.—There is note no man i'the world
More bound to his mother; yet here he lets me prate,
Like one i'the stocks. Thou hast never in thy life
Shew'd thy dear mother any courtesy;
When she, (poor hen!) fond of no second brood,
Has cluck'd note thee to the wars, and safely home,
-- 118 --
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 surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride,
Than pity to our prayers. Down: An end;
This is the last: So we will home to Rome,
And die among our neighbours.—Nay, behold us:
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 Volcian to his mother;
His wife is in Corioli, and this note child14Q1012
Like him by chance:—Yet give us our dispatch:
I am hush'd until our city be o'fire,
And then I'll speak a little.
Cor.
Mother, mother!
[holds her by the Hands: Silent.
What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope,
The gods look down, and this unnatural scene
They laugh at. O, my mother, mother, o!
You have won a happy victory to Rome:
But, for your son, believe it, o, believe it,
Most dang'rously 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,
If you were note in my stead, would you have heard
A mother less? or granted less, Aufidius?
Auf.
I was mov'd with't. note
-- 119 --
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!
&clquo;Auf.
&clquo;I am glad, thou hast set thy mercy and thy honour&crquo;
&clquo;At difference in thee: out of that I'll work&crquo;
&clquo;Myself a former fortune.&crquo;
Cor.
Ay, by and by;
[to Vol.
But we will drink together; and you shall bear
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.
SCENE IV.
Rome. A public Place.
Enter Menenius, and Sicinius.
Men.
See you yon' coign o'the capitol; yon; cornerstone?
Sic.
Why, what of that?
Men.
If it be possible for you to displace it with your
little finger, there is some hope the ladies of Rome, especially
his mother, may prevail with him. But, I say, there
is no hope in't; our throats are sentenc'd, and stay upon
execution.
Sic.
Is't possible, that so short a time can alter the
condition of a man?
Men.
There is difference note between a grub, and a butterfly;
yet your butterfly was a grub: This Marcius is
-- 120 --
grown from man to dragon: he has wings; he's more
than a creeping thing.
Sic.
He lov'd his mother dearly.
Men.
So did he me: and he no more remembers his
mother now, than an eight year old horse. The tartness
of his face sours ripe grapes: When he walks, he
moves like an engine, and the ground shrinks before his
treading: He is able to pierce a corslet with his eye; talks
like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He sits in his state,
as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done,
is finish'd with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god,
but eternity, and a heaven to throne in.
Sic.
Yes, mercy, if you report him truly.
Men.
I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy
his mother shall bring from him: There is no more mercy
in him, than there is milk in a male tyger; that shall our
poor city find: and all this is 'long of you.
Sic.
The gods be good unto us!
Men.
No, in such a case the gods will not be good
unto us. When we banish'd him, we respected not them:
and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us.
Enter a Messenger.
Mes.
Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to your house:
The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune,
And hale him up and down; all swearing, if
The Roman ladies bring not comfort home,
They'll give him death by inches.
Enter another Messenger.
Sic.
What's the news?
Mes.
Good news, good news; The ladies have prevail'd,
The Volcians are dislodg'd, and Marcius gone:
-- 121 --
A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,
No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins.
Sic.
Friend,
Art thou certain, this is true? is it most certain?
Mes.
As certain, as I know the sun is fire:
Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it?
Ne'er through an arch so hurry'd the blown tide,
As the recomforted through the gates. Why, hark you,
[Noise within, of Shoutings, and loud Musick.
The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes,
Tabors, and cymbals, and the shouting Romans,
Make the sun dance. Hark you!
[Shout again.
Men.
This is good news:
I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia
Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians,
A city full; of tribunes, such as you,
A sea and land full: You have pray'd well to-day;
This morning, for ten thousand of your throats
I'd not have given a doit. [Shout.] Hark, how they joy!
Sic.
First, the gods bless you for your tidings: next,
Accept my thankfulness.
Mes.
Sir, we have all
Great cause to give great thanks.
Sic.
They are near the city?
Mes.
Almost at point to enter.
Sic.
We will meet them,
And help the joy.
[going.
Enter, in Procession, the Ladies; with a great Press of Senators, Patricians, and People.
1. S.
Behold our patroness, the life of Rome:
Call all your tribes together, praise the gods,
And make triumphant fires; strew note flowers before them:
-- 122 --
Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius,
Repeal him with the welcome of his mother;
Cry, Welcome, ladies, welcome!
all.
Welcome, ladies, welcome!
[Flourish. Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Antium. A publick Place.
Enter Aufidius, attended.
Auf.
Go tell the lords o'the city, I am here:
Deliver them this &dagger2; paper: having read it,
Bid them repair to the market-place; where I,
Even in theirs and in the commons' ears,
Will vouch the truth of it. He I note accuse
The city ports by this hath enter'd, and
Intends to appear before the people, hoping
To purge himself with words: Dispatch.—
[Exit Att.
Enter certain Friends of Aufidius, Conspirators against Marcius.
Most welcome.
1. C.
How is it with our general?
Auf.
Even so,
As with a man by his own alms impoison'd,
And with his charity slain.
2. C.
Most noble sir,
If you do hold the same intent wherein
You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you
Of your great danger.
Auf.
Sir, I cannot tell;
We must proceed, as we do find the people.
3. C.
The people will remain uncertain, whilst
'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either
Makes the survivor heir of all.
Auf.
I know it;
-- 123 --
And my pretext to strike at him admits
A good construction. I rais'd him, pawn'd note
Mine honour for his truth: Who being so heighten'd,
He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery,
Seducing so my friends: and, to this end,
He bow'd his nature, never known before
But to be rough,14Q1013 unswayable: note
3. C.
Sir, his stoutness
When he did stand for consul, which he lost
By lack of stooping,—
Auf.
That I would have spoke of:
Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth;
Presented to my knife his throat: I took him;
Made him joint-servant with me; gave him way
In all his own desires; nay, let him choose
Out my note files, his projects to accomplish,
My best and freshest men; serv'd his designments
In mine own person; holp to note reap the same,
Which he did end all his; and took some pride
To do myself this wrong: 'till, at the last,
I seem'd his follower, not partner; and
He wag'd me with his countenance, as if
I had been mercenary.
1. C.
So he did, my lord:
The army marvel'd at it. And, in the last,
When he had carry'd Rome; and that we look'd
For no less spoil, than glory,—
Auf.
There was it;—
For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him.
At a few drops of women's rheum, which are
As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour
Of our great action; Therefore shall he die,
-- 124 --
And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark.
[Noise within, of Drums, Trumpets, and great Shoutings.
1. C.
Your native town you enter'd like a post,
And had no welcomes home; but he returns,
Splitting the air with noise.
2. C.
And patient fools,
Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear,
With giving him note glory.
3. C.
Therefore, at your vantage,
Ere he express himself, or move the people
With what he would say, let him feel your sword,
Which we will second. When he lies along,
After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury
His reasons with his body.
Auf.
Say no more;
Here come the lords.
Enter the Lords of the City.
Lor.
You are most welcome home.
Auf.
I have not deserv'd it.
But, worthy lords, have you with heed perus'd
What I have written to you?
Lor.
We have.
1. L.
And grieve to hear it.
What faults he made before the last, I think,
Might have found easy fines: but there to end,
Where he was to begin; and give away
The benefit of our levies, answering note us
With our own charge; making a treaty, where
There was a yielding; This admits no excuse.
Auf.
He approaches, you shall hear him.
Enter Coriolanus, with Drum and Colours;
-- 125 --
Crowd of Citizens with him.
Cor.
Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier;
No more infected with my country's love,
Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting
Under your great commmand. You are to know,
That prosp'rously I have attempted, and
With bloody passage led your wars, even to
The gates of Rome. Our spoil note, we have brought home,
Doth more than counterpoise, a full third part,
The charges of the action. We have made peace,
With no less honour to the Antiates,
Than shame to the Romans: And we here &dagger2; deliver,
Subscrib'd by the consuls and patricians,
Together with the seal o'the senate, what
We have compounded on.
Auf.
Read it not, noble lords;
But tell the traitor, in the highest degree
He hath abus'd your powers.
Cor.
Traitor! How now?
Auf.
Ay, traitor, Marcius.
Cor.
Marcius!
Auf.
Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius; Dost thou think
I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stoln name
Coriolanus in Corioli?—
You lords and heads o'the state, perfidiously
He has betray'd your business, and given up,
For certain drops of salt, your city Rome
(I say, your city) to his wife and mother:
Breaking his oath and resolution, like
A twist of rotten silk; never admitting
Council o'the war: but at his nurse's tears
He whin'd and roar'd away your victory;
-- 126 --
That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart
Look'd wond'ring each at other note.
Cor.
Hear'st thou, Mars?
Auf.
Name not the god, thou boy of tears,—
Cor.
Ha!
Auf.
No more.
Cor.
Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart
Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave!—
Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever
I was forc'd to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords,
Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion,
(Who wears my stripes imprest upon him; that
Must bear my beating to his grave) shall join
To thrust the lie unto him.
1. L.
Peace, both, and hear me speak.
Cor.
Cut me to pieces, Volcians, men and lads,
Stain all your edges on me.—Boy! False hound!
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I
Flutter'd note your Volcians in Corioli:
Alone I did it. Boy!
Auf.
Why, noble lords,
Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune,
Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart,
'Fore your own eyes and ears?
Con.
Let him die for't.
Cit. [confusedly.]
Tear him to pieces,—Do it presently:
—He kill'd my son,—My daughter;—He kill'd
my cousin Marcus;—He kill'd my father. note
2. L.
Peace, ho; no outrage; peace.
The man is noble, and his fame folds in
This orb o'the earth: His last offences to us
-- 127 --
Shall have judicious hearing.—Stand, Aufidius,
And trouble not the peace.
Cor.
O, that I had him,
With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe,
To use my lawful sword!
Auf.
Insolent villain!
Con.
Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.
[Aufidius and the Conspirators draw, and kill Marcius;
who falls, and Aufidius stands on him.
Lor.
Hold, hold, hold, hold.
Auf.
My noble masters, hear me speak.
1. L.
O Tullus,—
2. L.
Thou hast done a deed, whereat
Valour will weep.
3. L.
Tread not upon him.—Masters all, be quiet;
Put up your swords.
Auf.
My lords, when you shall know (as in this rage,
Provok'd by him, you cannot) the great danger
Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice
That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours
To call me to your senate, I'll deliver
Myself your loyal servant, or endure
Your heaviest censure.
1. L.
Bear from hence his body,—
And mourn you for him:—let him be regarded
As the most noble corse, that ever herald
Did follow to his urn.
2. L.
His own impatience
Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.
Let's make the best of it.
Auf.
My rage is gone,
And I am struck with sorrow.—Take him up:—
-- 128 --
Help, three o'the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.—14Q1014
Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully:—
Trail your steel pikes.—Though in this city he
Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail the injury,
Yet he shall have a noble memory.—
Assist.
[Exeunt, bearing the Body of Marcius.
A dead March sounded.
