Brutus.
Menenius.
The Augur 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 Martius.
Sic.
Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.
Men.
Pray you, whom does the wolf love?
Sic.
The lamb.
Men.
Ay, to devour him, as the hungry Plebeians would
the noble Martius.
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.
-- 121 --
Men.
In what enormity is Martius poor, that you two have
not in abundance?
Bru.
He's poor in no one fault, but stor'd with all.
Sic.
Especially in pride.
Bru.
And topping all others in boast.
Men.
This is strange now! do you two know how you are
censur'd here in the city, I mean of us o'th' right file, do you?
Bru.
Why—how are we censur'd?
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 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 Martius for being proud.
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—oh, that you could turn your eyes towards the
napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your
good selves. Oh that you could!
Bru.
What then, Sir?
Men.
Why then you should discover a brace of as unmeriting,
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 a drop of allaying Tiber in't:
said to be something imperfect in favouring the first complaint,
hasty and tinder-like, upon too 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 weals-men as you are
-- 122 --
(I cannot call you Lycurgusses) if the drink you give me touch
my palate adversly, I make a crooked face at it. I can say,
your worships have deliver'd the matter well, when I find the
ass in compound with the major part of your syllables; and
tho' I must be content to bear with those that say you are reverend
grave men, yet they lie deadly that tell you, you 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 besom 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, your selves, 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-wife and fosset-seller, and then adjourn a controversy
of three-pence to a second day of audience.—When you are
hearing a matter between a party and party, if you chance to
be pinch'd with the cholick, you make faces like mummers,
set up the bloody flag against all patience—and in roaring
for a chamber-pot, dismiss the controversie bleeding, the more
intangled 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
gyber 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 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 intomb'd in an ass's pack-saddle.
Yet you must be saying, Martius is proud; who in a cheap
estimation, is worth all your predecessors since Deucalion, though
peradventure some of the best of them were hereditary hangmen.
-- 123 --
Good-een to your worships; more of your conversation would
infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly Plebeians.
I will be bold to take my leave of you.
[Exe. Brutus and Sicinius.
SCENE II.
Enter Volumnia, Virgilia and Valeria.
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 Martius approaches; for
the love of Juno let's go.
Men.
Ha! Martius coming home?
Vol.
Ay, worthy Menenius, and with most prosperous approbation.
Men.
Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee—hoo, Martius
coming home!
Both.
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 soveraign prescription in Galen is but Emperic, and to
this preservative of no better report than a horse-drench. Is
he not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded.
Vir.
Oh no, no, no.
Vol.
Oh, he is wounded, I thank the Gods for't.
Men.
So do I too, if he be not too much; brings he a
victory in his pocket? the wounds become him.
Vol.
On's brows; Menenius, he comes the third time home
with the oaken garland.
-- 124 --
Men.
Hath he disciplin'd 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: if
he had staid by him, I would not have been so fidius'd for all
the chests in Corioli, and the gold that's in them. Is the Senate
possest 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 out-done 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 waw.
Men.
True? I'll be sworn they are true. Where is he wounded,
God save your good worships? Martius is coming home;
he has more cause to be proud: where is he wounded?
Vol.
I'th' shoulder, and i'th' left arm; there will be large
cicatrices to shew the people, when he shall stand for his place.
He receiv'd in the repulse of Tarquin seven hurts i'th' body.
Men.
One i'th' neck, and two i'th' thigh; there's nine that
I know.
Vol.
He had, before his last expedition, twenty five wounds
upon him.
Men.
Now 'tis twenty seven: every gash was an enemy's
grave. Hark, the trumpets.
[A shout and flourish.
Vol.
These are the ushers of Martius; before him he carries
noise, and behind him he leaves tears:
Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lye,
Which being advanc'd, declines, and then men die.
-- 125 --
SCENE III.
Trumpets sound. Enter Cominius the General and Titus Lartius;
between them Coriolanus, crown'd with an oaken garland, with
Captains and soldiers, and a herald.
Her.
Know, Rome, that all alone Martius did fight
Within Corioli gates, where he hath won,
With fame, a name to Caius Martius.
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus.
[Sound. Flourish.
All.
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus.
Cor.
No more of this, it does offend my heart;
Pray now no more.
Com.
Look, Sir, your mother.
Cor.
Oh!
You have, I know, petition'd all the Gods
For my prosperity.
[Kneels.
Vol.
Nay my soldier, up:
My gentle Martius, worthy Caius,
By deed-atchieving honour newly nam'd,
What is it, Coriolanus, must I call thee?
But oh, thy wife—
Cor.
My gracious silence, hail:
Would'st 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,
And mothers that lack sons.
Men.
Now the Gods crown thee.
Com.
And live you yet? O my sweet lady, pardon.
Vol.
I know not where to turn. O welcome home;
And welcome General, y'are welcome all.
Men.
A hundred thousand welcomes: I could weep,
-- 126 --
And I could laugh, I'm light and heavy; welcome:
A curse begin at very root on's heart
That is not glad to see thee. You are three
That Rome should dote on: yet by the faith of men,
We've some old crab-trees here at home, that will not
Be grafted to your relish. Welcome warriors;
We call a nettle, but a nettle, and
The faults of fools, but folly.
Com.
Ever right.
Cor.
Menenius, ever, ever.
Her.
Give way there, and go on.
Cor.
Your hand, and yours.
Ere in our own house I do shade my head,
The good patricians must be visited,
From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings,
But with them, change of honours.
Vol.
I have lived,
To see inherited my very wishes,
And buildings of my fancy; only one thing
Is wanting, which I doubt not but our Rome
Will cast upon thee.
Cor.
Know, good mother, I
Had rather be their servant in my way,
Than sway with them in theirs
Com.
On, to the Capitol.
[Flourish. Cornets.
[Exeunt in state, as before.
SCENE IV.
Enter Brutus and Sicinius.
&plquo;Bru.
&plquo;All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights
&plquo;Are spectacled to see him. Your pratling nurse
-- 127 --
&plquo;Into a rapture lets her baby cry,
&plquo;While she chats him: the kitchen maukin pins
&plquo;Her richest † notelockram 'bout her reechy neck,
&plquo;Clambring the walls to eye him; stalls, bulks, windows,
&plquo;Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges hors'd
&plquo;With variable complexions; all agreeing
&plquo;In earnestness to see him: seld-shown Flamins
&plquo;Do press among the popular throngs, and puff
&plquo;To win a vulgar station; our veil'd dames
&plquo;Commit the war of white and damask in
&plquo;Their nicely gawded cheeks, to th' wanton spoil
&plquo;Of Phœbus' burning kisses; such a pother,
&plquo;As if that whatsoever God who leads him,
&plquo;Were slily crept into his human powers,
&plquo;And gave him graceful posture.
Sic.
On the sudden,
I warrant him Consul.
Bru.
Then our office may,
During his power, go sleep.
Sic.
He cannot temp'rately transport his honours,
From where he should begin and end, but will
Lose those he'ath won.
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
That he will give, make I as little question
As he is proud to do't.
Bru.
I heard him swear,
Were he to stand for Consul, never would he
Appear i'th' market-place, nor on him put
-- 128 --
The napless vesture of humility,
Nor shewing, as the manner is, his wounds
To th' people, beg their stinking breaths.
Sic.
'Tis right.
Bru.
It was his word: oh he would miss it, rather
Than carry it, but by the suit o'th' gentry,
And the desire o'th' nobles.
Sic.
I wish no better,
Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it
In execution.
Bru.
'Tis most like he will.
Sic.
It shall be to him then, as our good wills;
A sure destruction.
Bru.
So it must fall out
To him, or our authorities. For an end,
We must suggest the people, in what hatred
He still hath held them; that to's power he would
Have made them mules, silenc'd their pleaders, and
d noteDisproperty'd their freedoms: holding them,
In human action and capacity,
Of no more soul nor fitness for the world,
Than camels in their war, who have their provender
Only for bearing burthens, and sore blows
For sinking under them.
Sic.
This, as you say, suggested
At some time, when his soaring insolence
Shall teach the people, which (time shall not want,
If he be put upon't, and that's as easie,
As to set dogs on sheep) will be the fire
To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze
Shall darken him for ever.
-- 129 --
Enter a Messenger.
Bru.
What's the matter?
Mes.
You're sent for to the Capitol: 'tis thought
That Martius shall be Consul: I have seen
The dumb men throng to see him, and the blind
To hear him speak; the matrons flung their gloves,
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs,
Upon him as he pass'd; the nobles bended
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 th' time,
But hearts for the event.
Sic.
Have with you.
Exeunt.
SCENE V.
The Capitol.
Enter two Officers, to lay cushions.
1 Off.
Come, come, they are almost here; how many stand
for consulships?
2 Off.
Three they say; but 'tis thought of every one, Coriolanus
will carry it.
1 Off.
That's a brave fellow, but he's vengeance proud, and
loves not the common people.
2 Off.
'Faith there have been many great men that have flatter'd
the people, who ne'er lov'd them, and there be many that
they have loved, they know not wherefore; so that if they love they
know not why, they hate upon no better a ground. Therefore,
for Coriolanus neither to care whether they love, or hate him,
-- 130 --
manifests the true knowledge he has in their disposition, and out
of his noble carelessness lets them plainly see't.
1 Off.
If he did not care whether he had their love or no,
he waved indifferently 'twixt doing them neither good, nor
harm: but he seeks their hate with greater devotion than they
can render it him; and leaves nothing undone, that may
fully discover him their opposite. Now to seem to affect the
malice and displeasure of the people, is as bad as that which he
dislikes, to flatter them for their love.
2 Off.
He hath deserved worthily of his country: and his
ascent is not by such easie degrees as those who have been supple
and courteous to the people, bonnetted without any further deed
to e noteheave them at all into their estimation and report: but he
hath so planted his honours in their eyes, and his actions in their
hearts, that for their tongues to be silent, and not confess so
much, were a kind of ingrateful injury; to report otherwise, were
a malice that giving it self the lie, would pluck reproof and rebuke
from ev'ry ear that heard it.
1 Off.
No more of him, he is a worthy man: make way,
they are coming.
SCENE VI.
Enter the Patricians, and the Tribunes of the people, Lictors before
them; Coriolanus, Menenius, Cominius the Consul: Sicinius
and Brutus take their places by themselves.
Men.
Having determin'd of the Volscians, and
To send for Titus Lartius; it remains,
As the main point of this our after-meeting,
To gratifie his noble service, that
Hath thus stood for his country. Therefore, please you,
Most reverend and grave elders, to desire
The present Consul, and last General,
-- 131 --
In our well-found successes, to report
A little of that worthy work perform'd
By Caius Martius Coriolanus; whom
We met here, both to thank, and to remember
With honours like himself.
1 Sen.
Speak, good Cominius:
Leave nothing out for length, and make us think
Rather our state's defective for requital,
Than we to stretch it out. Masters o'th' people,
We do request your kindest ear, and after,
Your loving motion toward the common body,
To yield what passes here
Sic.
We are convented
Upon a pleasing treaty, and have hearts
Inclinable to honour and advance
The theam of our assembly.
Bru.
Which the rather
We shall be blest to do, if he remember
A kinder value of the people, than
He hath hitherto priz'd them at.
Men.
That's off, that's off:
I would you rather had been silent: please you
To hear Cominius speak?
Bru.
Most willingly:
But yet my caution was more pertinent
Than the rebuke you give.
Men.
He loves your people,
But tye him not to be their bedfellow:
Worthy Cominius, speak.
[Coriolanus rises and offers to go away.
Nay, keep your place.
1 Sen.
Sit Coriolanus, never shame to hear
What you have nobly done.
-- 132 --
Cor.
Your honour's pardon:
I had rather have my wounds to heal again,
Than hear say how I got them.
Bru.
Sir, I hope
My words dis-bench'd you not?
Cor.
No, Sir; yet oft,
When blows have made me stay, I fled from words.
You sooth not, therefore hurt not: but your people,
I love them as they weigh—
Men.
Pray now, sit down.
Cor.
I had rather have one scratch my head i'th' sun,
When the alarum were struck, than idly sit
To hear my nothings monster'd.
[Exit Coriolanus.
Men.
Masters of the people,
Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter,
That's thousand to one good one? when you see
He had rather venture all his limbs for honour,
Than one of's ears to hear't. Proceed, Cominius.
Com.
I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus
Should not be utter'd feebly. It is held
That valour is the chiefest virtue, and
Most dignifies the haver: if it be,
The man I speak of cannot in the world
Be singly counter-pois'd. At sixteen years,
When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought
Beyond the mark of others: our then Dictator,
Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight,
When with his Amazonian chin he drove
The bristled lips before him: he bestrid
An o'er-prest Roman, and i'th' Consul's view
Slew three opposers: Tarquin's self he met,
And struck him on his knee: in that day's feats,
When he might act the woman in the scene,
-- 133 --
He prov'd best man i'th' field, and for his meed
Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil-age
Man-entred thus, he f notewaxed like a sea,
And in the brunt of seventeen battels since
He lurcht all swords o'th' garland. For this last,
Before, and in Corioli, let me say
I cannot speak him home: he stopt the fliers,
And by his rare example made the coward
Turn terror into sport. As waves before
A vessel under sail, so men obey'd,
And fell below his g notestern: his sword (death's stamp)
Where it did mark, it took from face to foot:
He was a thing of blood, whose every motion
Was h notetim'd with dying cries: alone he enter'd
The mortal gate o'th' city, which he painted
With shunless i notedestiny: aidless came off,
And with a sudden re-enforcement struck
Corioli, like a planet. Nor all's this;
For by and by the din of war 'gan pierce
His ready sense, when streight his doubled spirit
Requicken'd what in flesh was fatigate,
And to the battel came he; where he did
Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if
'Twere a perpetual spoil; and 'till we call'd
Both field and city ours, he never stood
To ease his breast with panting.
Men.
Worthy man!
1 Sen.
He cannot but with measure fit the honours
Which we devise him.
Com.
Our spoils he kick'd at,
And look'd upon things precious, as they were
The common muck o'th' world: he covets less
Than misery it self would give, rewards
-- 134 --
His deeds with doing them, and is content
To spend his time to end it.
Men.
He's right noble,
Let him be called for.
Sen.
Call Coriolanus.
Off.
He doth appear.
Enter Coriolanus.
Men.
The Senate, Coriolanus, are well pleas'd
To make thee Consul.
Cor.
I do owe them still
My life, and services.
Men.
It then remains
That you do speak to th' people.
Cor.
I beseech you,
Let me o'er-leap that custom; for I cannot
Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them,
For my wounds sake, to give their suffrages:
Please you that I may pass this doing.
Sic.
Sir, the people must have their voices,
Nor will they bate one jot of ceremony.
Men.
Put them not to't: pray fit you to the custom,
And take t'ye, as your predecessors have,
Your honour with your form.
Cor.
It is a part
That I shall blush in acting, and might well
Be taken from the people.
Bru.
Mark you that?
Cor.
To brag unto them, thus I did, and thus,
Shew them th' unaking scars, which I would hide,
As if I had receiv'd them for the hire
Of their breath only.
Men.
Do not stand upon't:
-- 135 --
We recommend t'ye, Tribunes of the people,
Our purpose to them, and to our noble Consul
Wish we all joy and honour.
Sic.
To Coriolanus come all joy and honour!
[Flourish Cornets. Then Exeunt.
Manent Sicinius and Brutus.
Bru.
You see how he intends to use the people.
Sic.
May they perceive's intent: he will require them,
As if he did contemn what he requested
Should be in them to give.
Bru.
Come, we'll inform them
Of our proceedings here on th' market-place,
I know they do attend us.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VII.
Enter seven or eight Citizens.
1 Cit.
Oons! if he do require our voices, we ought not to
deny him.
2 Cit.
We may, Sir, if we will.
3 Cit.
We have power in our selves to do it, but it is a power
that we have no power to do; for, if he shew us his wounds,
and tell us his deeds, we are to put our tongues into those
wounds, and speak for them: so, if he tells us his noble deeds,
we must also tell him of our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude
is monstrous, and for the multitude to be ingrateful,
were to make a monster of the multitude; of the which, we
being members, should bring our selves to be monstrous members.
1 Cit.
And to make us no better thought of, a little help
will serve: for once when we stood up about the corn, he himself
stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude.
3 Cit.
We have been call'd so of many, not that our heads are
-- 136 --
some brown, some black, some auburn, some bald; but that
our wits are so diversly colour'd; and truly, I think, if all our
wits were to issue out of one scull, they would fly East, West,
North, South, and their consent of one direct way, would be
at once to all points o'th' compass.
2 Cit.
Think you so? which way do you judge my wit
would fly.
3 Cit.
Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another man's
will, 'tis strongly wedg'd up in a blockhead: but if it were at
liberty, 'twould sure southward.
2 Cit.
Why that way?
3 Cit.
To lose it self in a fog, where being three parts melted
away with rotten dews, the fourth would return for conscience
sake, to help to get thee a wife.
2 Cit.
You are never without your tricks—you may, you
may—
3 Cit.
Are you all resolved to give your voices? but that's
no matter, the greater part carries it, I say. If he would incline
to the people, there was never a worthier man.
Enter Coriolanus in a gown, with Menenius.
Here he comes, and in the gown of humility, mark his behaviour:
we are not to stay all together, but to come by him
where he stands, by one's, by two's, and by threes. He's to
make his requests by particulars, where every one of us has a
single honour, in giving him our own voices with our own
tongues: therefore follow me, and I'll direct you how you
shall go by him.
All.
Content, content.
Men.
Oh Sir, you are not right; have you not known
The worthiest men have done't?
Cor.
What must I say,
I pray, Sir? plague upon't, I cannot bring
-- 137 --
My tongue to such a pace. Look, Sir,—my wounds—
I got them in my country's service, when
Some certain of your brethren roar'd, and ran
From noise of our own drums.
Men.
Oh me the Gods!
You must not speak of that, you must desire them
To think upon you.
Cor.
Think upon me? hang 'em.
I would they would forget me, like the virtues
Which our divines lose by 'em.
Men.
You'll mar all.
I'll leave you: pray you to speak to 'em, I pray you,
In wholsome manner.
[Exit.
Citizens approach.
Cor.
Bid them wash their faces,
And keep their teeth clean—so, here comes a brace:
You know the cause, Sirs, of my standing here.
1 Cit.
We do, Sir; tell us what hath brought you to't.
Cor.
Mine own desert.
2 Cit.
Your own desert?
Cor.
Ay, not mine own desire.
1 Cit.
How, not your own desire?
Cor.
No, Sir, 'twas never my desire yet to trouble the poor
with begging.
1 Cit.
You must think, if we give you any thing, we hope
to gain by you.
Cor.
Well then, I pray your price o'th' Consulship?
1 Cit.
The price is, to ask it kindly.
Cor.
Kindly, Sir, I pray let me ha't: I have wounds to shew
you, which shall be yours in private: your good voice, Sir;
what say you?
-- 138 --
2 Cit.
You shall ha't, worthy Sir.
Cor.
A match, Sir; there's in all two worthy voices begg'd:
I have your alms, adieu.
1 Cit.
But this is something odd.
2 Cit.
An 'twere to give again:—but 'tis no matter.
[Exe.
Two other Citizens.
Cor.
Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your
voices, that I may be Consul, I have here the customary gown.
1 Cit.
You have deserved nobly of your country, and you
have not deserved nobly.
Cor.
Your ænigma.
1 Cit.
You have been a scourge to her enemies; you have
been a rod to her friends; you have not indeed loved the common
people.
Cor.
You should account me the more virtuous, that I have
not been common in my love; I will, Sir, flatter my sworn
brother, the people, to earn a dearer estimation of them, 'tis a
condition they account gentle: and since the wisdom of their
choice, is rather to have my cap than my heart, I will practise
the insinuating nod, and be off to them most counterfeitly; that
is, Sir, I will counterfeit the bewitchment of some popular man,
and give it bountifully to the desirers: therefore, beseech you I
may be Consul.
2 Cit.
We hope to find you our friend; and therefore give
you our voices heartily.
1 Cit.
You have received many wounds for your country.
Cor.
I will not seal your knowledge with shewing them. I
will make much of your voices, and so trouble you no further.
Both.
The Gods give you joy, Sir, heartily.
[Exeunt.
Cor.
Most sweet voices—
Better it is to die, better to starve,
-- 139 --
Than crave the hire, which first we do deserve.* note
Three Citizens more.
Here come more voices.
Your voices—for your voices I have fought,
Watch'd for your voices; for your voices, bear
Of wounds two dozen and odd: battels thrice six,
I've seen, and heard of: for your voices, have
Done many things, some less, some more:—your voices:
Indeed I would be Consul.
1 Cit.
He has done nobly, and cannot go without any honest
man's voice.
2 Cit.
Therefore let him be Consul: the Gods give him joy,
and make him a good friend to the people.
All.
Amen, amen. God save thee, noble Consul.
[Exeunt.
Cor.
Worthy voices!
Enter Menenius, with Brutus and Sicinius.
Men.
You've stood your limitation: and the Tribunes
Endue you with the peoples voice. Remains,
That in th' official marks invested, you
Anon do meet the Senate.
Cor.
Is this done?
Sic.
The custom of request you have discharg'd:
-- 140 --
The people do admit you, and are summon'd
To meet anon upon your approbation.
Cor.
Where? at the senate-house?
Sic.
There, Coriolanus.
Cor.
May I change these garments?
Sic.
You may, Sir.
Cor.
That I'll straight do: and knowing my self again,
Repair to th' senate-house.
Men.
I'll keep you company. Will you along?
Bru.
We stay here for the people.
Sic.
Fare you well.
[Exeunt Coriol. and Men.
SCENE VIII.
He has it now, and by his looks, methinks
'Tis warm at's heart.
Bru.
With a proud heart he wore
His humble weeds: will you dismiss the people?
Enter Plebeians.
Sic.
How now, my masters, have you chose this man?
1 Cit.
He has our voices, Sir.
Bru.
We pray the Gods he may deserve your loves.
2 Cit.
Amen, Sir: to my poor unworthy notice,
He mock'd us, when he begg'd our voices.
3 Cit.
Certainly he flouted us down-right.
1 Cit.
No, 'tis his kind of speech, he did not mock us.
2 Cit.
Not one amongst us, save your self, but says
He us'd us scornfully: he should have shew'd us
His marks of merit, wounds receiv'd for's country.
Sic.
Why so he did, I am sure.
All.
No, no man saw 'em.
3 Cit.
He said he'd wounds, which he could shew in private:
-- 141 --
And with his cap, thus waving it in scorn,
I would be Consul, says he: aged custom,
But by your voices, will not so permit me;
Your voices therefore: when we granted that,
Here was—I thank you for your voices—thank you—
Your most sweet voices—now you have left your voices,
I have nothing further with you. Wa'nt this mockery?
Sic.
Why, either were you ignorant to see't?
Or seeing it, of such childish friendliness,
To yield your voices?
Bru.
Could you not have told him,
As you were lesson'd; when he had no power,
But was a petty servant to the state,
He was your enemy, still spake against
Your liberties, and charters that you bear
I'th' body of the weal: and now arriving
At place of potency, and sway o'th' state,
If he should still malignantly remain
Fast foe to th' plebeians, your voices might
Be curses to your selves. You should have said,
That as his worthy deeds did claim no less
Than what he stood for; so his gracious nature
Would think upon you for your voices, and
Translate his malice tow'rds you, into love,
Standing your friendly lord.
Sic.
Thus to have said,
As you were fore-advis'd, had touch'd his spirit,
And try'd his inclination; from him pluckt
Either his gracious promise, which you might,
As cause had call'd you up, have held him to;
Or else it would have gall'd his surly nature;
Which easily endures not article,
Tying him to ought; so putting him to rage,
-- 142 --
You should have ta'en th' advantage of his choler,
And pass'd him unelected.
Bru.
Did you perceive,
He did sollicit you in free contempt,
When he did need your loves? and do you think
That his contempt shall not be bruising to you,
When he hath power to crush? why had your bodies
No heart among you? or had you tongues, to cry
Against the rectorship of judgment?
Sic.
Have you,
Ere now, deny'd the asker? and, now again
Of him that did not ask, but mock, bestow
Your su'd-for tongues?
3 Cit.
He's not confirm'd, we may deny him yet.
2 Cit.
And will deny him:
I'll have five hundred voices of that sound.
1 Cit.
Ay, twice five hundred, and their friends to piece 'em.
Bru.
Get you hence instantly, and tell those friends,
They've chose a Consul that will from them take
Their liberties, make them of no more voice
Than dogs that are as often beat for barking,
As therefore kept to do so.
Sic.
Let them assemble; and on safer judgment,
Revoke your ignorant election:
Enforce his pride, and his old hate to you:
Besides, forget not,
With what contempt he wore the humble weed,
How in his suit he scorn'd you: but your loves
Thinking upon his services, took from you
The apprehension of his present portance,
Which gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion
After th' inveterate hate he bears to you.
Bru.
Nay lay a fault on us, your Tribunes, that
-- 143 --
We labour'd (no impediment between)
But that you must cast your election on him.
Sic.
Say, you chose him, more after our commandment,
Than guided by your own affections,
And that your minds, pre-occupied with what
You rather must do, than what you should do,
Made you against the grain to voice him Consul.
Lay the fault on us.
Bru.
Ay, spare us not: say, we read lectures to you,
How youngly he began to serve his country,
How long continued, and what stock he springs of,
The noble house of Martius; from whence came
That Ancus Martius, Numa's daughter's son,
Who after great Hostilius, here was King:
Of the same house Publius and Quintus were,
That our best water brought by conduits hither.
† noteAnd Censorinus, darling of the people
(And nobly nam'd so for twice being censor)
Was his great ancestor.
Sic.
One thus descended,
That hath beside well in his person wrought,
To be set high in place, we did commend
To your remembrances; but you have found,
Scaling his present bearing with his past,
That he's your fixed enemy, and revoke
Your sudden approbation.
Bru.
Say, you ne'er had don't,
(Harp on that still) but by our putting on;
And presently, when you have drawn your number,
Repair to th' Capitol.
-- 144 --
All.
We will so; almost all repent in their election.
[Exeunt Plebeians.
Bru.
Let them go on:
This mutiny were better put in hazard,
Then stay past doubt for greater:
If, as his nature is, he fall in rage
With their refusal, both observe and answer
The vantage of his anger.
Sic.
Come; to th' Capitol.
We will be there before the stream o'th' people:
And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own,
Which we have goaded onward.
[Exeunt.
George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
