1 Cit.

Before we proceed any farther, hear me speak.

All.

Speak, speak.

1 Cit.

You are all resolved rather to die, than to famish?

All.

Resolved, resolved.

1 Cit.

First you know, Caius Marcius is chief enemy to the people.

All.

We know't, we know't.

1 Cit.

Let us kill him, and we'll have corn at our own price. Is't a verdict?

All.

No more talking on't; let it be done. Away, away!

2 Cit.

One word, good citizens.

1 Cit.

We are accounted poor citizens; the patricians good. What authority surfeits on, would relieve us: if they would yield us but the superfluity, while it were wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely; but they think, we are too dear: the leanness that afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an inventory to particularize their abundance; our sufferance is a gain to them. 11Q0859—Let us revenge this with our

pikes, ere we become rakes: for the gods know, I speak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge.

2 Cit.

Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcius?

All.

Against him first: he's a very dog to the commonalty.

2 Cit.

Consider you what services he has done for his country?

1 Cit.

Very well; and could be content to give him good report for't, but that he pays himself with being proud.

2 Cit.

Nay, but speak not maliciously^{1 note}.

1 Cit.

I say unto you, what he hath done famously, he did it to that end: though soft-conscienced men can be content to say it was for his country, he did it to please his mother, and to be partly proud; which he is, even to the altitude of his virtue.

2 Cit.

What he cannot help in his nature, you account a vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous.

1 Cit.

If I must not, I need not be barren of accusations: he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition. [Shouts within.] What shouts are these? The other side o' the city is risen: why stay we prating here? to the Capitol!

All.

Come, come.

1 Cit.

Soft! who comes here?

2 Cit.

Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath always loved the people.

1 Cit.

He's one honest enough: would, all the rest were so!

Men.
What work's, my countrymen, in hand? Where go you
With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray you.

2 Cit.

Our business is not unknown to the senate: they have had inkling this fortnight what we intend to do, which now we'll show 'em in deeds. They say, poor suitors have strong breaths: they shall know, we have strong arms too^{2 note}.

Men.
Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbours,
Will you undo yourselves?

2 Cit.
We cannot, sir; we are undone already.

Men.
I tell you, friends, most charitable care
Have the patricians of you. For your wants,
Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well
Strike at the heaven with your staves, as lift them
Against the Roman state; whose course will on
The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs
Of more strong link asunder, than can ever
Appear in your impediment. For the dearth,
The gods, not the patricians, make it; and
Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack!
You are transported by calamity
Thither where more attends you; and you slander
The helms o' the state, who care for you like fathers,
When you curse them as enemies.

2 Cit.

Care for us?—True, indeed!—They ne'er cared for us yet. Suffer us to famish, and their store-houses crammed with grain; make edicts for usury, to support usurers; repeal daily any wholesome act established against the rich, and provide more piercing

statutes daily to chain up and restrain the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and there's all the love they bear us.

Men.
Either you must
Confess yourselves wondrous malicious,
Or be accus'd of folly. I shall tell you
A pretty tale: it may be, you have heard it;
But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture
To scale 't a little more^{3 note}.

2 Cit.

Well, I'll hear it, sir: yet you must not think to fob off our disgrace with a tale; but, an't please you, deliver.

Men.
There was a time, when all the body's members
Rebell'd against the belly; thus accus'd it:—
That only like a gulf it did remain
I' the midst o' the body^{4 note}, idle and unactive,
Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing
Like labour with the rest; where th' other instruments
Did see, and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel,
And, mutually participate, did minister
Unto the appetite, and affection common
Of the whole body. The belly answered,—

2 Cit.
Well, sir, what answer made the belly?

Men.
Sir, I shall tell you.—With a kind of smile,
Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus,
(For, look you, I may make the belly smile,
As well as speak) it tauntingly replied^{5 note}
T' the discontented members, the mutinous parts
That envied his receipt; even so most fitly

As you malign our senators, for that
They are not such as you.

2 Cit.
Your belly's answer? What!
The kingly crowned head, the vigilant eye,
The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier,
Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter,
With other muniments and petty helps
In this our fabric, if that they—

Men.
What then?—
'Fore me, this fellow speaks!—what then? what then?

2 Cit.
Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd,
Who is the sink o' the body,—

Men.
Well, what then?

2 Cit.
The former agents, if they did complain,
What could the belly answer?

Men.
I will tell you,
If you'll bestow a small (of what you have little)
Patience a while, you'll hear the belly's answer.

2 Cit.
Y'are long about it.

Men.
Note me this, good friend;
Your most grave belly was deliberate,
Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd:—
“True is it, my incorporate friends,” quoth he,
“That I receive the general food at first,
Which you do live upon; and fit it is,
Because I am the store-house, and the shop
Of the whole body: but if you do remember,
I send it through the rivers of your blood,
Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o' the brain;
And through the cranks and offices of man, 11Q0860
The strongest nerves, and small inferior veins,
From me receive that natural competency
Whereby they live. And though that all at once,
You, my good friends,” this says the belly, mark me,—

2 Cit.
Ay, sir; well, well.

Men.
“Though all at once cannot
See what I do deliver out to each,

Yet I can make my audit up, that all
From me do back receive the flour of all,
And leave me but the bran.” What say you to't?

2 Cit.
It was an answer. How apply you this?

Men.
The senators of Rome are this good belly,
And you the mutinous members: for examine
Their counsels, and their cares; digest things rightly,
Touching the weal o' the common, you shall find,
No public benefit which you receive,
But it proceeds, or comes, from them to you,
And no way from yourselves.—What do you think?
You, the great toe of this assembly?—

2 Cit.
I the great toe? Why the great toe?

Men.
For that being one o' the lowest, basest, poorest,
Of this most wise rebellion, thou go'st foremost:
Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run,
Lead'st first to win some vantage.—
But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs,
Rome and her rats are at the point of battle;
The one side must have bale^{6 note}.—Hail, noble Marcius! Enter Caius Marcius.

Mar.
Thanks.—What's the matter, you dissentious rogues,
That rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,
Make yourselves scabs?

2 Cit.
We have ever your good word.

Mar.
He that will give good words to thee, will flatter
Beneath abhorring.—What would you have, you curs,
That like nor peace, nor war? the one affrights you;
The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you,
Where he should find you lions, finds you hares;
Where foxes, geese: you are no surer, no,

Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,
Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is
To make him worthy, whose offence subdues him,
And curse that justice did it. Who deserves greatness,
Deserves your hate; and your affections are
A sick man's appetite, who desires most that
Which would increase his evil. He that depends
Upon your favours, swims with fins of lead,
And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust ye?
With every minute you do change a mind,
And call him noble, that was now your hate,
Him vile, that was your garland. What's the matter,
That in these several places of the city
You cry against the noble senate, who,
Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else
Would feed on one another?—What's their seeking?

Men.
For corn at their own rates; whereof, they say,
The city is well stor'd.

Mar.
Hang 'em! They say?
They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know
What's done i' the Capitol; who's like to rise,
Who thrives, and who declines; side factions, and give out
Conjectural marriages; making parties strong,
And feebling such as stand not in their liking
Below their cobbled shoes. They say, there's grain enough?
Would the nobility lay aside their ruth,
And let me use my sword, I'd make a quarry^{7 note}
With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high
As I could pick my lance^{8 note}.

Men.
Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded; 11Q0861
For though abundantly they lack discretion,
Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you,
What says the other troop?

Mar.
They are dissolved. Hang 'em!
They said, they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth proverbs,—
That hunger broke stone walls; that dogs must eat;
That meat was made for mouths; that the gods sent not
Corn for the rich men only.—With these shreds
They vented their complainings; which being answer'd,
And a petition granted them, a strange one,
(To break the heart of generosity^{9 note},
And make bold power look pale) they threw their caps
As they would hang them on the horns o' the moon,
Shouting their emulation.

Men.
What is granted them?

Mar.
Five tribunes, to defend their vulgar wisdoms,
Of their own choice: one's Junius Brutus,
Sicinius Velutus, and I know not—'Sdeath!
The rabble should have first unroof'd the city,
Ere so prevail'd with me: it will in time
Win upon power, and throw forth greater themes
For insurrection's arguing.

Men.
This is strange.

Mar.
Go; get you home, you fragments! Enter a Messenger.

Mess.
Where's Caius Marcius?

Mar.
Here. What's the matter?

Mess.
The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms.

Mar.
I am glad on't: then, we shall have means to vent
Our musty superfluity.—See, our best elders.

Enter Cominius, Titus Lartius, and other Senators; Junius Brutus, and Sicinius Velutus.

1 Sen.
Marcius, 'tis true, that you have lately told us;
The Volsces are in arms.

Mar.
They have a leader,
Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to't.
I sin in envying his nobility;
And were I any thing but what I am,
I would wish me only he.

Com.
You have fought together.

Mar.
Were half to half the world by th' ears, and he
Upon my party, I'd revolt, to make
Only my wars with him: he is a lion
That I am proud to hunt.

1 Sen.
Then, worthy Marcius,
Attend upon Cominius to these wars.

Com.
It is your former promise.

Mar.
Sir, it is;
And I am constant.—Titus Lartius, thou
Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face.
What! art thou stiff? stand'st out?

Tit.
No, Caius Marcius;
I'll lean upon one crutch, and fight with the other,
Ere stay behind this business.

Men.
O, true bred!

1 Sen.
Your company to the Capitol; where, I know,
Our greatest friends attend us.

Tit.
Lead you on:
Follow, Cominius; we must follow you;
Right worthy you priority.

Com.
Noble Marcius!

1 Sen.
Hence! To your homes! be gone. [To the Citizens.

Mar.
Nay, let them follow.

The Volsces have much corn: take these rats thither,
To gnaw their garners.—Worshipful mutineers,
Your valour puts well forth: pray, follow. [Exeunt Senators, Com. Mar. Tit. and Menen. Citizens steal away.

Sic.
Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius?

Bru.
He has no equal.

Sic.
When we were chosen tribunes for the people,—

Bru.
Mark'd you his lip, and eyes?

Sic.
Nay, but his taunts.

Bru.
Being mov'd, he will not spare to gird the gods^{10 note}.

Sic.
Bemock the modest moon.

Bru.
The present wars devour him: he is grown
Too proud to be so valiant.

Sic.
Such a nature,
Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow
Which he treads on at noon. But I do wonder,
His insolence can brook to be commanded
Under Cominius.

Bru.
Fame, at the which he aims,
In whom already he is well grac'd, cannot
Better be held, nor more attain'd, than by
A place below the first; for what miscarries
Shall be the general's fault, though he perform
To the utmost of a man; and giddy censure
Will then cry out of Marcius, “O, if he
Had borne the business!”

Sic.
Besides, if things go well,
Opinion, that so sticks on Marcius, shall
Of his demerits rob Cominius^{1 note}.

Bru.
Come:

Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius,
Though Marcius earn'd them not; and all his faults
To Marcius shall be honours, though, indeed,
In aught he merit not.

Sic.
Let's hence, and hear
How the despatch is made; and in what fashion,
More than his singularity^{2 note}, he goes
Upon his present action.

Bru.
Let's along. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Corioli. The Senate-House. Enter Tullus Aufidius, and Senators.

1 Sen.
So, your opinion is, Aufidius,
That they of Rome are enter'd in our counsels,
And know how we proceed.

Auf.
It is not yours?
What ever have been thought on in this state,
That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome
Had circumvention? 'Tis not four days gone,
Since I heard thence; these are the words: I think,
I have the letter here; yes, here it is:— [Reads.
“They have press'd a power, but it is not known
Whether for east, or west. The dearth is great;
The people mutinous; and it is rumour'd,
Cominius, Marcius your old enemy,
(Who is of Rome worse hated than of you)
And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman,
These three lead on this preparation
Whither 'tis bent: most likely, 'tis for you.
Consider of it.”

1 Sen.
Our army's in the field.
We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready
To answer us.

Auf.
Nor did you think it folly,
To keep your great pretences veil'd, till when
They needs must show themselves; which in the hatching,
It seem'd, appear'd to Rome. By the discovery,
We shall be shorten'd in our aim; which was,
To take in many towns^{3 note}, ere, almost, Rome
Should know we were afoot.

2 Sen.
Noble Aufidius,
Take your commission; hie you to your bands.
Let us alone to guard Corioli:
If they set down before 's, for the remove
Bring up your army; but, I think, you'll find
They've not prepar'd for us.

Auf.
O! doubt not that;
I speak from certainties. Nay, more;
Some parcels of their power are forth already,
And only hitherward. I leave your honours.
If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet,
'Tis sworn between us, we shall ever strike
Till one can do no more^{4 note}
.

All.
The gods assist you!

Auf.
And keep your honours safe!

1 Sen.
Farewell.

2 Sen.
Farewell.

All.
Farewell. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. Rome. An Apartment in Marcius' House. Enter Volumnia, and Virgilia. They sit down on two low Stools, and sew.

Vol.

I pray you, daughter, sing; or express yourself in a more comfortable sort. If my son were my husband, I should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won honour, than in the embracements of his bed, where he would show most love. When yet he was but tender-bodied, and the only son of my womb; when youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way; when, for a day of king's entreaties, a mother should not sell him an hour from her beholding; I,—considering how honour would become such a person; that it was no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if renown made it not stir,—was pleased to let him seek danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child, than now in first seeing he had proved himself a man.

Vir.

But had he died in the business, madam? how then?

Vol.

Then, his good report should have been my son: I therein would have found issue. Hear me profess sincerely:—had I a dozen sons,—each in my love alike, and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius,—I had rather had eleven die nobly for their country, than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.

Gent.
Madam, the lady Valeria is come to visit you.

Vir.
'Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.

Vol.
Indeed, you shall not.
Methinks, I hear hither your husband's drum,
See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair;
As children from a bear the Volsces shunning him:
Methinks, I see him stamp thus, and call thus,—
“Come on, you cowards! you were got in fear,
Though you were born in Rome.” His bloody brow
With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes,
Like to a harvest-man, that's task'd to mow
Or all, or lose his hire.

Vir.
His bloody brow? O, Jupiter! no blood.

Vol.
Away, you fool! it more becomes a man,
Than gilt his trophy^{5 note}: the breasts of Hecuba,
When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier
Than Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood
At Grecian sword's contending 11Q0862^{6 note}.—Tell Valeria,
We are fit to bid her welcome. [Exit Gent.

Vir.
Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!

Vol.
He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee,
And tread upon his neck. Re-enter Gentlewoman, with Valeria and her Usher.

Val.

My ladies both, good day to you.

Vol.

Sweet madam,—

Vir.

I am glad to see your ladyship.

Val.

How do you both? you are manifest house-keepers. What are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good faith.—How does your little son?

Vir.

I thank your ladyship; well, good madam.

Vol.

He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, than look upon his school-master.

Val.

O' my word, the father's son: I'll swear, 'tis a very pretty boy. O' my troth, I looked upon him o' Wednesday half an hour together: he has such a confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded butterfly; and when he caught it, he let it go again; and after it again; and over and over he comes, and up again; catched it again: or whether his fall enraged him, or how 'twas, he did so set his teeth, and tear it; O! I warrant, how he mammocked it!

Vol.

One of his father's moods.

Val.

Indeed la, 'tis a noble child.

Vir.

A crack, madam^{7 note}.

Val.

Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play the idle huswife with me this afternoon.

Vir.

No, good madam; I will not out of doors.

Val.

Not out of doors!

Vol.

She shall, she shall.

Vir.

Indeed, no, by your patience: I will not over the threshold, till my lord return from the wars.

Vol.

Fie! you confine yourself most unreasonably. Come; you must go visit the good lady that lies in.

Vir.

I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with my prayers; but I cannot go thither.

Vol.

Why, I pray you?

Vir.

'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love.

Val.

You would be another Penelope; yet, they say, all the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence did but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come: I would, your cambric where sensible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us.

Vir.

No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth.

Val.

In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you excellent news of your husband.

Vir.

O! good madam, there can be none yet.

Val.

Verily, I do not jest with you: there came news from him last night.

Vir.

Indeed, madam?

Val.

In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it. Thus it is:—The Volsces have an army forth, against whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of our Roman power: your lord, and Titus Lartius, are set down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief wars. This is true on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us.

Vir.

Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every thing hereafter.

Vol.

Let her alone, lady: as she is now, she will but disease our better mirth.

Val.

In troth, I think, she would.—Fare you well then.—Come, good sweet lady.—Pr'ythee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o' door, and go along with us.

Vir.

No, at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish you much mirth.

Val.

Well then, farewell.