| [Enter MENENIUS, COMINIUS, SICINIUS, BRUTUS,
and others] | |
| MENENIUS | No, I'll not go: you hear what he hath said
Which was sometime his general; who loved 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 The way into his mercy: nay, if he coy'd To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home. |
| COMINIUS | He would not seem to know me. |
| MENENIUS | Do you hear? |
| COMINIUS | Yet one time he did call me by my name:
I urged 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 forged himself a name o' the fire Of burning Rome. |
| MENENIUS | Why, so: you have made good work!
A pair of tribunes that have rack'd for Rome, To make coals cheap,--a noble memory! |
| COMINIUS | I minded him how royal 'twas to pardon
When it was less expected: he replied, It was a bare petition of a state To one whom they had punish'd. |
| MENENIUS | Very well:
Could he say less? |
| COMINIUS | I offer'd to awaken his regard
For's 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. |
| MENENIUS | For one poor grain or two!
I am one of those; his mother, wife, his child, 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. |
| SICINIUS | Nay, pray, be patient: if you refuse your aid
In this so never-needed help, yet do not Upbraid's 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. |
| MENENIUS | No, I'll not meddle. |
| SICINIUS | Pray you, go to him. |
| MENENIUS | What should I do? |
| BRUTUS | Only make trial what your love can do
For Rome, towards Marcius. |
| MENENIUS | Well, and say that Marcius
Return me, as Cominius is return'd, Unheard; what then? But as a discontented friend, grief-shot With his unkindness? say't be so? |
| SICINIUS | Yet your good will
must have that thanks from Rome, after the measure As you intended well. |
| MENENIUS | 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 dined: 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 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, And then I'll set upon him. |
| BRUTUS | You know the very road into his kindness,
And cannot lose your way. |
| MENENIUS | Good faith, I'll prove him,
Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge Of my success. |
| [Exit] | |
| COMINIUS | He'll never hear him. |
| SICINIUS | Not? |
| COMINIUS | I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye
Red as 'twould burn Rome; and his injury The gaoler 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, 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 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] |
| [Enter to them, MENENIUS] | |
| First Senator | Stay: whence are you? |
| Second Senator | Stand, and go back. |
| MENENIUS | You guard like men; 'tis well: but, by your leave,
I am an officer of state, and come To speak with Coriolanus. |
| First Senator | From whence? |
| MENENIUS | From Rome. |
| First Senator | You may not pass, you must return: our general
Will no more hear from thence. |
| Second Senator | You'll see your Rome embraced with fire before
You'll speak with Coriolanus. |
| MENENIUS | 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. |
| First Senator | Be it so; go back: the virtue of your name
Is not here passable. |
| MENENIUS | I tell thee, fellow,
The general is my lover: I have been The book of his good acts, whence men have read His name unparallel'd, haply amplified; For I have ever verified 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 tumbled past the throw; and in his praise Have almost stamp'd the leasing: therefore, fellow, I must have leave to pass. |
| First Senator | Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies in his
behalf as you have uttered words in your own, you should not pass here; no, though it were as virtuous to lie as to live chastely. Therefore, go back. |
| MENENIUS | Prithee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius,
always factionary on the party of your general. |
| Second Senator | 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. |
| MENENIUS | Has he dined, canst thou tell? for I would not
speak with him till after dinner. |
| First Senator | You are a Roman, are you? |
| MENENIUS | I am, as thy general is. |
| First Senator | Then you should hate Rome, as he does. Can you,
when you have pushed out your gates the very defender of them, and, in a violent popular ignorance, given your enemy your shield, think to front his revenges with the easy groans of old women, the virginal palms of your daughters, or with the palsied intercession of such a decayed dotant 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 deceived; therefore, back to Rome, and prepare for your execution: you are condemned, our general has sworn you out of reprieve and pardon. |
| MENENIUS | Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here, he would
use me with estimation. |
| Second Senator | Come, my captain knows you not. |
| MENENIUS | I mean, thy general. |
| First Senator | 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. |
| MENENIUS | Nay, but, fellow, fellow,-- |
| [Enter CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS] | |
| CORIOLANUS | What's the matter? |
| MENENIUS | 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, but by my entertainment with him, if thou standest 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. |
| [To CORIOLANUS] | |
| 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 moved to come to thee; but being assured none but myself could move thee, I have been blown out of your gates 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 denied my access to thee. | |
| CORIOLANUS | Away! |
| MENENIUS | How! away! |
| CORIOLANUS | Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs
Are servanted to others: though I owe My revenge properly, my remission lies 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 |
| [Gives a letter] | |
| And would have rent it. Another word, Menenius,
I will not hear thee speak. This man, Aufidius, Was my beloved in Rome: yet thou behold'st! | |
| AUFIDIUS | You keep a constant temper. |
| [Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS] | |
| First Senator | Now, sir, is your name Menenius? |
| Second Senator | 'Tis a spell, you see, of much power: you know the
way home again. |
| First Senator | Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your
greatness back? |
| Second Senator | What cause, do you think, I have to swoon? |
| MENENIUS | I neither care for the world nor your general: for
such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, ye'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] | |
| First Senator | A noble fellow, I warrant him. |
| Second Senator | The worthy fellow is our general: he's the rock, the
oak not to be wind-shaken. |
| [Exeunt] |
| [Enter CORIOLANUS, AUFIDIUS, and others] | |
| CORIOLANUS | We will before the walls of Rome tomorrow
Set down our host. My partner in this action, You must report to the Volscian lords, how plainly I have borne this business. |
| AUFIDIUS | Only their ends
You have respected; stopp'd your ears against The general suit of Rome; never admitted A private whisper, no, not with such friends That thought them sure of you. |
| CORIOLANUS | This last old man,
Whom with a crack'd heart I have sent to Rome, Loved 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 show'd sourly 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 embassies and suits, Nor from 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 in mourning habits, VIRGILIA, VOLUMNIA,
leading young MARCIUS, VALERIA, and Attendants] | |
| My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mould
Wherein this trunk was framed, and in her hand The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affection! All bond and privilege of nature, break! Let it be virtuous to be obstinate. What is that curt'sy worth? or those doves' eyes, Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not Of stronger earth than others. My mother bows; As if Olympus to a molehill should In supplication nod: and my young boy Hath an aspect of intercession, which Great nature cries 'Deny not.' let the Volsces Plough Rome and harrow Italy: I'll never Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand, As if a man were author of himself And knew no other kin. | |
| VIRGILIA | My lord and husband! |
| CORIOLANUS | These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome. |
| VIRGILIA | The sorrow that delivers us thus changed
Makes you think so. |
| CORIOLANUS | 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 prate, And the most noble mother of the world Leave unsaluted: sink, my knee, i' the earth; |
| [Kneels] | |
| Of thy deep duty more impression show
Than that of common sons. | |
| VOLUMNIA | O, stand up blest!
Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint, I kneel before thee; and unproperly Show duty, as mistaken all this while Between the child and parent. |
| [Kneels] | |
| CORIOLANUS | What is this?
Your knees to me? to your corrected son? Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun; Murdering impossibility, to make What cannot be, slight work. |
| VOLUMNIA | Thou art my warrior;
I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady? |
| CORIOLANUS | The noble sister of Publicola,
The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle That's curdied by the frost from purest snow And hangs on Dian's temple: dear Valeria! |
| VOLUMNIA | This is a poor epitome of yours,
Which by the interpretation of full time May show like all yourself. |
| CORIOLANUS | The god of soldiers,
With the consent of supreme Jove, inform Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou mayst prove To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' the wars Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw, And saving those that eye thee! |
| VOLUMNIA | Your knee, sirrah. |
| CORIOLANUS | That's my brave boy! |
| VOLUMNIA | Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself,
Are suitors to you. |
| CORIOLANUS | I beseech you, peace:
Or, if you'ld ask, remember this before: The thing 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 mechanics: tell me not Wherein I seem unnatural: desire not To ally my rages and revenges with Your colder reasons. |
| VOLUMNIA | 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 you fail in our request, the blame May hang upon your hardness: therefore hear us. |
| CORIOLANUS | Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark; for we'll
Hear nought from Rome in private. Your request? |
| VOLUMNIA | 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 thyself How more unfortunate than all living 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 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 evident calamity, though we had Our wish, which side should win: for either thou Must, as a foreign recreant, be led With manacles thorough 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 show 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. |
| VIRGILIA | Ay, and mine,
That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name Living to time. |
| Young MARCIUS | A' shall not tread on me;
I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I'll fight. |
| CORIOLANUS | Not of a woman's tenderness to be,
Requires nor child nor woman's face to see. I have sat too long. |
| [Rising] | |
| VOLUMNIA | Nay, go not from us thus.
If it were so that our request did tend To save the Romans, thereby to destroy The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us, As poisonous of your honour: no; our suit Is that you reconcile them: while the Volsces May say 'This mercy we have show'd;' the Romans, 'This we received;' 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 wiped it out; Destroy'd his country, and his name remains To the ensuing age abhorr'd.' Speak to me, son: Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour, To imitate the graces of the gods; To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' the air, And yet to charge 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's no man in the world More bound to 's mother; yet here he lets me prate Like one i' the stocks. Thou hast never in thy life Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy, 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 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 's: This boy, that cannot tell what he would have But kneels and holds up bands 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 Corioli and his child Like him by chance. Yet give us our dispatch: I am hush'd until our city be a-fire, And then I'll speak a little. |
| [He holds her by the hand, silent] | |
| CORIOLANUS | O mother, mother!
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 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? |
| AUFIDIUS | I was moved withal. |
| CORIOLANUS | 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! |
| AUFIDIUS | [Aside] I am glad thou hast set thy mercy and
thy honour At difference in thee: out of that I'll work Myself a former fortune. |
| [The Ladies make signs to CORIOLANUS] | |
| CORIOLANUS | Ay, by and by; |
| [To VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, &c] | |
| 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] |
| [Enter MENENIUS and SICINIUS] | |
| MENENIUS | See you yond coign o' the Capitol, yond
corner-stone? |
| SICINIUS | Why, what of that? |
| MENENIUS | 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 sentenced and stay upon execution. |
| SICINIUS | Is't possible that so short a time can alter the
condition of a man! |
| MENENIUS | There is differency between a grub and a butterfly;
yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown from man to dragon: he has wings; he's more than a creeping thing. |
| SICINIUS | He loved his mother dearly. |
| MENENIUS | 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 finished with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but eternity and a heaven to throne in. |
| SICINIUS | Yes, mercy, if you report him truly. |
| MENENIUS | 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 tiger; that shall our poor city find: and all this is long of you. |
| SICINIUS | The gods be good unto us! |
| MENENIUS | No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto
us. When we banished him, we respected not them; and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us. |
| [Enter a Messenger] | |
| Messenger | Sir, if you'ld 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 a second Messenger] | |
| SICINIUS | What's the news? |
| Second Messenger | Good news, good news; the ladies have prevail'd,
The Volscians are dislodged, and Marcius gone: A merrier day did never yet greet Rome, No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins. |
| SICINIUS | Friend,
Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain? |
| Second Messenger | 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 hurried the blown tide, As the recomforted through the gates. Why, hark you! |
| [Trumpets; hautboys; drums beat; all together] | |
| The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries and fifes,
Tabours and cymbals and the shouting Romans, Make the sun dance. Hark you! | |
| [A shout within] | |
| MENENIUS | 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. Hark, how they joy! |
| [Music still, with shouts] | |
| SICINIUS | First, the gods bless you for your tidings; next,
Accept my thankfulness. |
| Second Messenger | Sir, we have all
Great cause to give great thanks. |
| SICINIUS | They are near the city? |
| Second Messenger | Almost at point to enter. |
| SICINIUS | We will meet them,
And help the joy. |
| [Exeunt] |
| [Enter two Senators with VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA,
VALERIA, &c. passing over the stage, followed by Patricians and others] | |
| First Senator | Behold our patroness, the life of Rome!
Call all your tribes together, praise the gods, And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before them: Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius, Repeal him with the welcome of his mother; Cry 'Welcome, ladies, welcome!' |
| All | Welcome, ladies, Welcome! |
| [A flourish with drums and trumpets. Exeunt] |
| [Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, with Attendants] | |
| AUFIDIUS | Go tell the lords o' the city I am here:
Deliver them this 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. Him I accuse The city ports by this hath enter'd and Intends to appear before the people, hoping To purge herself with words: dispatch. |
| [Exeunt Attendants] | |
| [Enter three or four Conspirators of AUFIDIUS' faction] | |
| Most welcome! | |
| First Conspirator | How is it with our general? |
| AUFIDIUS | Even so
As with a man by his own alms empoison'd, And with his charity slain. |
| Second Conspirator | Most noble sir,
If you do hold the same intent wherein You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you Of your great danger. |
| AUFIDIUS | Sir, I cannot tell:
We must proceed as we do find the people. |
| Third Conspirator | The people will remain uncertain whilst
'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either Makes the survivor heir of all. |
| AUFIDIUS | I know it;
And my pretext to strike at him admits A good construction. I raised him, and I pawn'd 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, unswayable and free. |
| Third Conspirator | Sir, his stoutness
When he did stand for consul, which he lost By lack of stooping,-- |
| AUFIDIUS | 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 of my files, his projects to accomplish, My best and freshest men; served his designments In mine own person; holp to reap the fame 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 waged me with his countenance, as if I had been mercenary. |
| First Conspirator | So he did, my lord:
The army marvell'd at it, and, in the last, When he had carried Rome and that we look'd For no less spoil than glory,-- |
| AUFIDIUS | 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, And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark! |
| [Drums and trumpets sound, with great shouts of
the People] | |
| First Conspirator | Your native town you enter'd like a post,
And had no welcomes home: but he returns, Splitting the air with noise. |
| Second Conspirator | And patient fools,
Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear With giving him glory. |
| Third Conspirator | 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 pronounced shall bury His reasons with his body. |
| AUFIDIUS | Say no more:
Here come the lords. |
| [Enter the Lords of the city] | |
| All The Lords | You are most welcome home. |
| AUFIDIUS | I have not deserved it.
But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused What I have written to you? |
| Lords | We have. |
| First Lord | And grieve to hear't.
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 us With our own charge, making a treaty where There was a yielding,--this admits no excuse. |
| AUFIDIUS | He approaches: you shall hear him. |
| [Enter CORIOLANUS, marching with drum and
colours; commoners being with him] | |
| CORIOLANUS | 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 command. You are to know That prosperously I have attempted and With bloody passage led your wars even to The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home Do 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 deliver, Subscribed by the consuls and patricians, Together with the seal o' the senate, what We have compounded on. |
| AUFIDIUS | Read it not, noble lords;
But tell the traitor, in the high'st degree He hath abused your powers. |
| CORIOLANUS | Traitor! how now! |
| AUFIDIUS | Ay, traitor, Marcius! |
| CORIOLANUS | Marcius! |
| AUFIDIUS | Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius: dost thou think
I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n 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 Counsel o' the war, but at his nurse's tears He whined and roar'd away your victory, That pages blush'd at him and men of heart Look'd wondering each at other. |
| CORIOLANUS | Hear'st thou, Mars? |
| AUFIDIUS | Name not the god, thou boy of tears! |
| CORIOLANUS | Ha! |
| AUFIDIUS | No more. |
| CORIOLANUS | 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 forced to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords, Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion-- Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him; that Must bear my beating to his grave--shall join To thrust the lie unto him. |
| First Lord | Peace, both, and hear me speak. |
| CORIOLANUS | Cut me to pieces, Volsces; 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 your Volscians in Corioli: Alone I did it. Boy! |
| AUFIDIUS | 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? |
| All Conspirators | Let him die for't. |
| All The People | 'Tear him to pieces.' 'Do it presently.' 'He kill'd
my son.' 'My daughter.' 'He killed my cousin Marcus.' 'He killed my father.' |
| Second Lord | Peace, ho! no outrage: peace!
The man is noble and his fame folds-in This orb o' the earth. His last offences to us Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius, And trouble not the peace. |
| CORIOLANUS | O that I had him,
With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, To use my lawful sword! |
| AUFIDIUS | Insolent villain! |
| All Conspirators | Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him! |
| [The Conspirators draw, and kill CORIOLANUS:
AUFIDIUS stands on his body] | |
| Lords | Hold, hold, hold, hold! |
| AUFIDIUS | My noble masters, hear me speak. |
| First Lord | O Tullus,-- |
| Second Lord | Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep. |
| Third Lord | Tread not upon him. Masters all, be quiet;
Put up your swords. |
| AUFIDIUS | My lords, when you shall know--as in this rage,
Provoked 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. |
| First Lord | 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. |
| Second Lord | His own impatience
Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame. Let's make the best of it. |
| AUFIDIUS | My rage is gone;
And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up. Help, three o' the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one. 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 CORIOLANUS. A dead
march sounded] |