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

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

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,

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

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.

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,

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

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.

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