ACT VSCENE I. Rome. A public placeEnterMenenius, Cominius, Sicinius, Brutus(the two Tribunes), with others.MENENIUS.No, I’ll not go. You hear what he hath saidWhich was sometime his general, who loved himIn a most dear particular. He called me father,But what o’ that? Go you that banished him;A mile before his tent, fall down, and kneeThe way into his mercy. Nay, if he coyedTo 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 dropsThat we have bled together. “Coriolanus”He would not answer to, forbade all names.He was a kind of nothing, titleless,Till he had forged himself a name i’ th’ fireOf burning Rome.MENENIUS.Why, so; you have made good work!A pair of tribunes that have wracked RomeTo make coals cheap! A noble memory!COMINIUS.I minded him how royal ’twas to pardonWhen it was less expected. He repliedIt was a bare petition of a stateTo one whom they had punished.MENENIUS.Very well.Could he say less?COMINIUS.I offered to awaken his regardFor’s private friends. His answer to me wasHe could not stay to pick them in a pileOf noisome musty chaff. He said ’twas follyFor one poor grain or two to leave unburntAnd still to nose th’ 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 smeltAbove the moon. We must be burnt for you.SICINIUS.Nay, pray, be patient. If you refuse your aidIn this so-never-needed help, yet do notUpbraid’s with our distress. But sure, if youWould 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 doFor Rome, towards Martius.MENENIUS.Well, and say that MartiusReturn me, as Cominius is returned, unheard,What then? But as a discontented friend,Grief-shot with his unkindness? Say’t be so?SICINIUS.Yet your good willMust have that thanks from Rome after the measureAs you intended well.MENENIUS.I’ll undertake’t.I think he’ll hear me. Yet to bite his lipAnd hum at good Cominius much unhearts me.He was not taken well; he had not dined.The veins unfilled, our blood is cold, and thenWe pout upon the morning, are unaptTo give or to forgive; but when we have stuffedThese pipes and these conveyances of our bloodWith wine and feeding, we have suppler soulsThan in our priestlike fasts. Therefore I’ll watch himTill he be dieted to my request,And then I’ll set upon him.BRUTUS.You know the very road into his kindnessAnd cannot lose your way.MENENIUS.Good faith, I’ll prove him,Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledgeOf my success.[Exit.]COMINIUS.He’ll never hear him.SICINIUS.Not?COMINIUS.I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eyeRed as ’twould burn Rome; and his injuryThe jailer to his pity. I kneeled before him;’Twas very faintly he said “Rise”; dismissed meThus with his speechless hand. What he would doHe sent in writing after me; what heWould not, bound with an oath to yield to hisConditions. So that all hope is vainUnless his noble mother and his wife,Who, as I hear, mean to solicit himFor mercy to his country. Therefore let’s henceAnd with our fair entreaties haste them on.[Exeunt.]SCENE II. An Advanced post of the Volscian camp before Rome.EnterMeneniusto the Watch, or Guard.FIRST WATCH.Stay! Whence are you?SECOND WATCH.Stand, and go back.MENENIUS.You guard like men; ’tis well. But by your leave,I am an officer of state and comeTo speak with Coriolanus.FIRST WATCH.From whence?MENENIUS.From Rome.FIRST WATCH.You may not pass; you must return. Our generalWill no more hear from thence.SECOND WATCH.You’ll see your Rome embraced with fire beforeYou’ll speak with Coriolanus.MENENIUS.Good my friends,If you have heard your general talk of RomeAnd of his friends there, it is lots to blanksMy name hath touched your ears. It is Menenius.FIRST WATCH.Be it so; go back. The virtue of your nameIs not here passable.MENENIUS.I tell thee, fellow,Thy general is my lover. I have beenThe book of his good acts, whence men have readHis fame unparalleled happily amplified;For I have ever verified my friends—Of whom he’s chief—with all the size that verityWould without lapsing suffer. Nay, sometimes,Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground,I have tumbled past the throw, and in his praiseHave almost stamped the leasing. Therefore, fellow,I must have leave to pass.FIRST WATCH.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 WATCH.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, can’st thou tell? For I would not speak with him till after dinner.FIRST WATCH.You are a Roman, are you?MENENIUS.I am, as thy general is.FIRST WATCH.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 WATCH.Come, my captain knows you not.MENENIUS.I mean thy general.FIRST WATCH.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—EnterCoriolanuswithAufidius.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 stand’st not i’ th’ 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 affairsAre servanted to others. Though I oweMy revenge properly, my remission liesIn Volscian breasts. That we have been familiar,Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison ratherThan pity note how much. Therefore begone.Mine ears against your suits are stronger thanYour gates against my force. Yet, for I loved thee,Take this along; I writ it for thy sake,[He givesMeneniusa paper.]And would have sent 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.[They exit.][TheGuardandMeneniusremain.]FIRST WATCH.Now, sir, is your name Menenius?SECOND WATCH.’Tis a spell, you see, of much power. You know the way home again.FIRST WATCH.Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your Greatness back?SECOND WATCH.What cause do you think I have to swoon?MENENIUS.I neither care for th’ world nor your general. For such things as you, I can scarce think there’s any, you’re so slight. He that hath a will to die by himself fears it not from another. Let your general do his worst. For you, be that you are, long; and your misery increase with your age! I say to you, as I was said to, away![Exit.]FIRST WATCH.A noble fellow, I warrant him.SECOND WATCH.The worthy fellow is our general. He is the rock, the oak not to be wind-shaken.[Exeunt.]SCENE III. The tent of CoriolanusEnterCoriolanusandAufidius.CORIOLANUS.We will before the walls of Rome tomorrowSet down our host. My partner in this action,You must report to th’ Volscian lords how plainlyI have borne this business.AUFIDIUS.Only their endsYou have respected, stopped your ears againstThe general suit of Rome; never admittedA private whisper, no, not with such friendsThat thought them sure of you.CORIOLANUS.This last old man,Whom with cracked heart I have sent to Rome,Loved me above the measure of a father,Nay, godded me indeed. Their latest refugeWas to send him, for whose old love I have—Though I showed sourly to him—once more offeredThe first conditions, which they did refuseAnd cannot now accept, to grace him onlyThat thought he could do more. A very littleI have yielded to. Fresh embassies and suits,Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafterWill I lend ear to.[Shout within.]Ha? What shout is this?Shall I be tempted to infringe my vowIn the same time ’tis made? I will not.EnterVirgilia, Volumnia, Valeria,youngMartiuswith attendants.My wife comes foremost, then the honoured moldWherein this trunk was framed, and in her handThe grandchild to her blood. But out, affection!All bond and privilege of nature, break!Let it be virtuous to be obstinate.What is that curtsy worth? Or those doves’ eyes,Which can make gods forsworn? I melt and am notOf stronger earth than others. My mother bows,As if Olympus to a molehill shouldIn supplication nod; and my young boyHath an aspect of intercession whichGreat Nature cries “Deny not!” Let the VolscesPlough Rome and harrow Italy, I’ll neverBe such a gosling to obey instinct, but standAs 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 changedMakes 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 sayFor that, “Forgive our Romans.”[They kiss.]O, a kissLong as my exile, sweet as my revenge!Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kissI carried from thee, dear, and my true lipHath virgined it e’er since. You gods! I prateAnd the most noble mother of the worldLeave unsaluted. Sink, my knee, i’ th’ earth;[Kneels.]Of thy deep duty more impression showThan that of common sons.VOLUMNIA.O, stand up blest,[He rises.]Whilst with no softer cushion than the flintI kneel before thee and unproperlyShow duty, as mistaken all this whileBetween the child and parent.[She kneels.]CORIOLANUS.What is this?Your knees to me? To your corrected son?[He raises her up.]Then let the pebbles on the hungry beachFillip the stars! Then let the mutinous windsStrike the proud cedars ’gainst the fiery sun,Murdering impossibility to makeWhat 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 icicleThat’s curdied by the frost from purest snowAnd hangs on Dian’s temple!—Dear Valeria.VOLUMNIA.This is a poor epitome of yours,Which by th’ interpretation of full timeMay show like all yourself.CORIOLANUS.The god of soldiers,With the consent of supreme Jove, informThy thoughts with nobleness, that thou mayst proveTo shame unvulnerable, and stick i’ th’ warsLike a great seamark standing every flawAnd saving those that eye thee.VOLUMNIA.[To young Martius.] Your knee, sirrah.[He kneels.]CORIOLANUS.That’s my brave boy!VOLUMNIA.Even he, your wife, this lady, and myselfAre suitors to you.[YoungMartiusrises.]CORIOLANUS.I beseech you, peace;Or, if you’d ask, remember this before:The thing I have forsworn to grant may neverBe held by you denials. Do not bid meDismiss my soldiers or capitulateAgain with Rome’s mechanics. Tell me notWherein I seem unnatural; desire notT’ allay my rages and revenges withYour colder reasons.VOLUMNIA.O, no more, no more!You have said you will not grant us anything;For we have nothing else to ask but thatWhich you deny already. Yet we will ask,That if you fail in our request, the blameMay hang upon your hardness. Therefore hear us.CORIOLANUS.Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark, for we’llHear naught from Rome in private. Your request?VOLUMNIA.Should we be silent and not speak, our raimentAnd state of bodies would bewray what lifeWe have led since thy exile. Think with thyselfHow more unfortunate than all living womenAre we come hither; since that thy sight, which shouldMake 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 seeThe son, the husband, and the father tearingHis country’s bowels out. And to poor weThine enmity’s most capital. Thou barr’st usOur prayers to the gods, which is a comfortThat 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 loseThe country, our dear nurse, or else thy person,Our comfort in the country. We must findAn evident calamity, though we hadOur wish, which side should win, for either thouMust as a foreign recreant be ledWith manacles through our streets, or elseTriumphantly tread on thy country’s ruinAnd bear the palm for having bravely shedThy wife and children’s blood. For myself, son,I purpose not to wait on fortune tillThese wars determine. If I cannot persuade theeRather to show a noble grace to both partsThan seek the end of one, thou shalt no soonerMarch to assault thy country than to tread—Trust to’t, thou shalt not—on thy mother’s wombThat brought thee to this world.VIRGILIA.Ay, and mine,That brought you forth this boy to keep your nameLiving to time.YOUNG MARTIUS.He 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 beRequires nor child nor woman’s face to see.—I have sat too long.[He rises.]VOLUMNIA.Nay, go not from us thus.If it were so, that our request did tendTo save the Romans, thereby to destroyThe Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn usAs poisonous of your honour. No, our suitIs that you reconcile them, while the VolscesMay say “This mercy we have showed,” the Romans“This we received,” and each in either sideGive the all-hail to thee and cry, “Be blessedFor making up this peace!” Thou know’st, great son,The end of war’s uncertain, but this certain,That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefitWhich thou shalt thereby reap is such a nameWhose repetition will be dogged with curses,Whose chronicle thus writ: “The man was noble,But with his last attempt he wiped it out;Destroyed his country, and his name remainsTo th’ ensuing age abhorred.” Speak to me, son.Thou hast affected the fine strains of honourTo imitate the graces of the gods,To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o’ th’ airAnd yet to charge thy sulphur with a boltThat should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak?Think’st thou it honourable for a noble manStill to remember wrongs?—Daughter, speak you.He cares not for your weeping.—Speak thou, boy.Perhaps thy childishness will move him moreThan can our reasons.—There’s no man in the worldMore bound to’s mother, yet here he lets me prateLike one i’ th’ stocks. Thou hast never in thy lifeShowed thy dear mother any courtesyWhen she, poor hen, fond of no second brood,Has clucked thee to the wars and safely home,Loaden with honour. Say my request’s unjustAnd spurn me back; but if it be not so,Thou art not honest, and the gods will plague theeThat thou restrain’st from me the duty whichTo a mother’s part belongs.—He turns away.—Down, ladies! Let us shame him with our knees.To his surname Coriolanus ’longs more prideThan pity to our prayers. Down! An end.[They kneel.]This is the last. So we will home to RomeAnd die among our neighbours.—Nay, behold’s.This boy that cannot tell what he would have,But kneels and holds up hands for fellowship,Does reason our petition with more strengthThan thou hast to deny’t.—Come, let us go.[They rise.]This fellow had a Volscian to his mother,His wife is in Corioles, and his childLike him by chance.—Yet give us our dispatch.I am hushed until our city be afire,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 sceneThey 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 prevailed,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 heardA 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 makeMine 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![He speaks with them aside.]AUFIDIUS.[Aside.] I am glad thou hast set thy mercy and thy honourAt difference in thee. Out of that I’ll workMyself a former fortune.CORIOLANUS.[To the Women.] Ay, by and by;But we’ll drink together, and you shall bearA better witness back than words, which we,On like conditions, will have countersealed.Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserveTo have a temple built you. All the swordsIn Italy, and her confederate arms,Could not have made this peace.[Exeunt.]SCENE IV. Rome. A public placeEnterMeneniusandSicinius.MENENIUS.See you yond coign o’ the Capitol, yond cornerstone?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 Martius 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 aMessenger.MESSENGER.Sir, if you’d save your life, fly to your house.The plebeians have got your fellow tribuneAnd hale him up and down, all swearing ifThe Roman ladies bring not comfort home,They’ll give him death by inches.Enter anotherMessenger.SICINIUS.What’s the news?SECOND MESSENGER.Good news, good news! The ladies have prevailed.The Volscians are dislodged and Martius gone.A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,No, not th’ expulsion of the Tarquins.SICINIUS.Friend,Art thou certain this is true? Is’t most certain?SECOND MESSENGER.As certain as I know the sun is fire.Where have you lurked that you make doubt of it?Ne’er through an arch so hurried the blown tideAs the recomforted through th’ gates. Why, hark you![Trumpets, hautboys, drums beat, all together.]The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes,Tabors and cymbals, and the shouting RomansMake the sun dance. Hark you![A shout within.]MENENIUS.This is good news.I will go meet the ladies. This VolumniaIs worth of consuls, senators, patriciansA city full; of tribunes such as youA sea and land full. You have prayed well today.This morning for ten thousand of your throatsI’d not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy![Sound still with the 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?MESSENGER.Almost at point to enter.SICINIUS.We’ll meet them, and help the joy.[Exeunt.]SCENE V. Rome. A street near the gateEnter two Senators, with Ladies(Volumnia, Virgilia, Valeria)passing over the stage, with other Lords.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 banished Martius,Repeal him with the welcome of his mother.Cry “Welcome, ladies, welcome!”ALL.Welcome, ladies, welcome![A flourish with drums and trumpets.][Exeunt.]SCENE VI. Antium. A public placeEnterTullus Aufidiuswith Attendants.AUFIDIUS.Go tell the lords o’ th’ city I am here.Deliver them this paper.[He gives them a paper.]Having read it,Bid them repair to th’ marketplace, where I,Even in theirs and in the commons’ ears,Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuseThe city ports by this hath entered andIntends t’ appear before the people, hopingTo purge himself with words. Dispatch.[Exeunt Attendants.]Enter three or fourConspiratorsofAufidius’sfaction.Most welcome!FIRST CONSPIRATOR.How is it with our general?AUFIDIUS.Even soAs with a man by his own alms empoisonedAnd with his charity slain.SECOND CONSPIRATOR.Most noble sir,If you do hold the same intent whereinYou wished us parties, we’ll deliver youOf 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 eitherMakes the survivor heir of all.AUFIDIUS.I know it,And my pretext to strike at him admitsA good construction. I raised him, and I pawnedMine honour for his truth, who being so heightened,He watered his new plants with dews of flattery,Seducing so my friends; and to this end,He bowed his nature, never known beforeBut to be rough, unswayable, and free.THIRD CONSPIRATOR.Sir, his stoutnessWhen he did stand for consul, which he lostBy lack of stooping—AUFIDIUS.That I would have spoke of.Being banished for’t, he came unto my hearth,Presented to my knife his throat. I took him,Made him joint servant with me, gave him wayIn all his own desires; nay, let him chooseOut of my files, his projects to accomplish,My best and freshest men; served his designmentsIn mine own person; holp to reap the fameWhich he did end all his; and took some prideTo do myself this wrong; till at the lastI seemed his follower, not partner; andHe waged me with his countenance as ifI had been mercenary.FIRST CONSPIRATOR.So he did, my lord.The army marvelled at it, and, in the last,When he had carried Rome and that we lookedFor no less spoil than glory—AUFIDIUS.There was itFor which my sinews shall be stretched upon him.At a few drops of women’s rheum, which areAs cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labourOf 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 entered like a postAnd had no welcomes home, but he returnsSplitting the air with noise.SECOND CONSPIRATOR.And patient fools,Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tearWith giving him glory.THIRD CONSPIRATOR.Therefore at your vantage,Ere he express himself or move the peopleWith what he would say, let him feel your sword,Which we will second. When he lies along,After your way his tale pronounced shall buryHis reasons with his body.AUFIDIUS.Say no more.Here come the lords.Enter theLordsof the city.ALL LORDS.You are most welcome home.AUFIDIUS.I have not deserved it.But, worthy lords, have you with heed perusedWhat I have written to you?ALL LORDS.We have.FIRST LORD.And grieve to hear’t.What faults he made before the last, I thinkMight have found easy fines, but there to endWhere he was to begin and give awayThe benefit of our levies, answering usWith our own charge, making a treaty whereThere was a yielding—this admits no excuse.EnterCoriolanusmarching with Drum and Colours, the Commoners being with him.AUFIDIUS.He approaches. You shall hear him.CORIOLANUS.Hail, lords! I am returned your soldier,No more infected with my country’s loveThan when I parted hence, but still subsistingUnder your great command. You are to knowThat prosperously I have attempted, andWith bloody passage led your wars even toThe gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought homeDoth more than counterpoise a full third partThe charges of the action. We have made peaceWith no less honour to the AntiatesThan shame to th’ Romans, and we here deliver,Subscribed by th’ Consuls and patricians,Together with the seal o’ th’ Senate, whatWe have compounded on.[He offers the lords a paper.]AUFIDIUS.Read it not, noble lords,But tell the traitor in the highest degreeHe hath abused your powers.CORIOLANUS.“Traitor?” How now?AUFIDIUS.Ay, traitor, Martius.CORIOLANUS.Martius?AUFIDIUS.Ay, Martius, Caius Martius. Dost thou thinkI’ll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol’n nameCoriolanus, in Corioles?You lords and heads o’ th’ state, perfidiouslyHe has betrayed your business and given upFor certain drops of salt your city Rome—I say your city—to his wife and mother,Breaking his oath and resolution likeA twist of rotten silk, never admittingCounsel o’ th’ war, but at his nurse’s tearsHe whined and roared away your victory,That pages blushed at him and men of heartLooked wond’ring 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 heartToo great for what contains it. “Boy”? O slave!—Pardon me, lords, ’tis the first time that everI was forced to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords,Must give this cur the lie; and his own notion—Who wears my stripes impressed upon him, thatMust bear my beating to his grave—shall joinTo 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 dovecote, IFluttered your Volscians in Corioles,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 PEOPLETear him to pieces! Do it presently! He killed 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 inThis orb o’ th’ Earth. His last offences to usShall 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![Draw theConspirators, and killsMartius, who falls.Aufidiusstands on him.]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 dangerWhich this man’s life did owe you, you’ll rejoiceThat he is thus cut off. Please it your HonoursTo call me to your senate, I’ll deliverMyself your loyal servant, or endureYour heaviest censure.FIRST LORD.Bear from hence his body,And mourn you for him. Let him be regardedAs the most noble corse that ever heraldDid follow to his urn.SECOND LORD.His own impatienceTakes 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’ th’ chiefest soldiers; I’ll be one.—Beat thou the drum that it speak mournfully.—Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city heHath widowed and unchilded many a one,Which to this hour bewail the injury,Yet he shall have a noble memory.Assist.[Exeunt, bearing the body ofMartius. A dead march sounded.]
EnterMenenius, Cominius, Sicinius, Brutus(the two Tribunes), with others.
MENENIUS.No, I’ll not go. You hear what he hath saidWhich was sometime his general, who loved himIn a most dear particular. He called me father,But what o’ that? Go you that banished him;A mile before his tent, fall down, and kneeThe way into his mercy. Nay, if he coyedTo 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 dropsThat we have bled together. “Coriolanus”He would not answer to, forbade all names.He was a kind of nothing, titleless,Till he had forged himself a name i’ th’ fireOf burning Rome.
MENENIUS.Why, so; you have made good work!A pair of tribunes that have wracked RomeTo make coals cheap! A noble memory!
COMINIUS.I minded him how royal ’twas to pardonWhen it was less expected. He repliedIt was a bare petition of a stateTo one whom they had punished.
MENENIUS.Very well.Could he say less?
COMINIUS.I offered to awaken his regardFor’s private friends. His answer to me wasHe could not stay to pick them in a pileOf noisome musty chaff. He said ’twas follyFor one poor grain or two to leave unburntAnd still to nose th’ 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 smeltAbove the moon. We must be burnt for you.
SICINIUS.Nay, pray, be patient. If you refuse your aidIn this so-never-needed help, yet do notUpbraid’s with our distress. But sure, if youWould 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 doFor Rome, towards Martius.
MENENIUS.Well, and say that MartiusReturn me, as Cominius is returned, unheard,What then? But as a discontented friend,Grief-shot with his unkindness? Say’t be so?
SICINIUS.Yet your good willMust have that thanks from Rome after the measureAs you intended well.
MENENIUS.I’ll undertake’t.I think he’ll hear me. Yet to bite his lipAnd hum at good Cominius much unhearts me.He was not taken well; he had not dined.The veins unfilled, our blood is cold, and thenWe pout upon the morning, are unaptTo give or to forgive; but when we have stuffedThese pipes and these conveyances of our bloodWith wine and feeding, we have suppler soulsThan in our priestlike fasts. Therefore I’ll watch himTill he be dieted to my request,And then I’ll set upon him.
BRUTUS.You know the very road into his kindnessAnd cannot lose your way.
MENENIUS.Good faith, I’ll prove him,Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledgeOf my success.
[Exit.]
COMINIUS.He’ll never hear him.
SICINIUS.Not?
COMINIUS.I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eyeRed as ’twould burn Rome; and his injuryThe jailer to his pity. I kneeled before him;’Twas very faintly he said “Rise”; dismissed meThus with his speechless hand. What he would doHe sent in writing after me; what heWould not, bound with an oath to yield to hisConditions. So that all hope is vainUnless his noble mother and his wife,Who, as I hear, mean to solicit himFor mercy to his country. Therefore let’s henceAnd with our fair entreaties haste them on.
[Exeunt.]
EnterMeneniusto the Watch, or Guard.
FIRST WATCH.Stay! Whence are you?
SECOND WATCH.Stand, and go back.
MENENIUS.You guard like men; ’tis well. But by your leave,I am an officer of state and comeTo speak with Coriolanus.
FIRST WATCH.From whence?
MENENIUS.From Rome.
FIRST WATCH.You may not pass; you must return. Our generalWill no more hear from thence.
SECOND WATCH.You’ll see your Rome embraced with fire beforeYou’ll speak with Coriolanus.
MENENIUS.Good my friends,If you have heard your general talk of RomeAnd of his friends there, it is lots to blanksMy name hath touched your ears. It is Menenius.
FIRST WATCH.Be it so; go back. The virtue of your nameIs not here passable.
MENENIUS.I tell thee, fellow,Thy general is my lover. I have beenThe book of his good acts, whence men have readHis fame unparalleled happily amplified;For I have ever verified my friends—Of whom he’s chief—with all the size that verityWould without lapsing suffer. Nay, sometimes,Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground,I have tumbled past the throw, and in his praiseHave almost stamped the leasing. Therefore, fellow,I must have leave to pass.
FIRST WATCH.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 WATCH.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, can’st thou tell? For I would not speak with him till after dinner.
FIRST WATCH.You are a Roman, are you?
MENENIUS.I am, as thy general is.
FIRST WATCH.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 WATCH.Come, my captain knows you not.
MENENIUS.I mean thy general.
FIRST WATCH.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—
EnterCoriolanuswithAufidius.
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 stand’st not i’ th’ 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 affairsAre servanted to others. Though I oweMy revenge properly, my remission liesIn Volscian breasts. That we have been familiar,Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison ratherThan pity note how much. Therefore begone.Mine ears against your suits are stronger thanYour gates against my force. Yet, for I loved thee,Take this along; I writ it for thy sake,
[He givesMeneniusa paper.]
And would have sent 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.
[They exit.]
[TheGuardandMeneniusremain.]
FIRST WATCH.Now, sir, is your name Menenius?
SECOND WATCH.’Tis a spell, you see, of much power. You know the way home again.
FIRST WATCH.Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your Greatness back?
SECOND WATCH.What cause do you think I have to swoon?
MENENIUS.I neither care for th’ world nor your general. For such things as you, I can scarce think there’s any, you’re so slight. He that hath a will to die by himself fears it not from another. Let your general do his worst. For you, be that you are, long; and your misery increase with your age! I say to you, as I was said to, away!
[Exit.]
FIRST WATCH.A noble fellow, I warrant him.
SECOND WATCH.The worthy fellow is our general. He is the rock, the oak not to be wind-shaken.
[Exeunt.]
EnterCoriolanusandAufidius.
CORIOLANUS.We will before the walls of Rome tomorrowSet down our host. My partner in this action,You must report to th’ Volscian lords how plainlyI have borne this business.
AUFIDIUS.Only their endsYou have respected, stopped your ears againstThe general suit of Rome; never admittedA private whisper, no, not with such friendsThat thought them sure of you.
CORIOLANUS.This last old man,Whom with cracked heart I have sent to Rome,Loved me above the measure of a father,Nay, godded me indeed. Their latest refugeWas to send him, for whose old love I have—Though I showed sourly to him—once more offeredThe first conditions, which they did refuseAnd cannot now accept, to grace him onlyThat thought he could do more. A very littleI have yielded to. Fresh embassies and suits,Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafterWill I lend ear to.
[Shout within.]
Ha? What shout is this?Shall I be tempted to infringe my vowIn the same time ’tis made? I will not.
EnterVirgilia, Volumnia, Valeria,youngMartiuswith attendants.
My wife comes foremost, then the honoured moldWherein this trunk was framed, and in her handThe grandchild to her blood. But out, affection!All bond and privilege of nature, break!Let it be virtuous to be obstinate.What is that curtsy worth? Or those doves’ eyes,Which can make gods forsworn? I melt and am notOf stronger earth than others. My mother bows,As if Olympus to a molehill shouldIn supplication nod; and my young boyHath an aspect of intercession whichGreat Nature cries “Deny not!” Let the VolscesPlough Rome and harrow Italy, I’ll neverBe such a gosling to obey instinct, but standAs 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 changedMakes 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 sayFor that, “Forgive our Romans.”
[They kiss.]
O, a kissLong as my exile, sweet as my revenge!Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kissI carried from thee, dear, and my true lipHath virgined it e’er since. You gods! I prateAnd the most noble mother of the worldLeave unsaluted. Sink, my knee, i’ th’ earth;
[Kneels.]
Of thy deep duty more impression showThan that of common sons.
VOLUMNIA.O, stand up blest,
[He rises.]
Whilst with no softer cushion than the flintI kneel before thee and unproperlyShow duty, as mistaken all this whileBetween the child and parent.
[She kneels.]
CORIOLANUS.What is this?Your knees to me? To your corrected son?
[He raises her up.]
Then let the pebbles on the hungry beachFillip the stars! Then let the mutinous windsStrike the proud cedars ’gainst the fiery sun,Murdering impossibility to makeWhat 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 icicleThat’s curdied by the frost from purest snowAnd hangs on Dian’s temple!—Dear Valeria.
VOLUMNIA.This is a poor epitome of yours,Which by th’ interpretation of full timeMay show like all yourself.
CORIOLANUS.The god of soldiers,With the consent of supreme Jove, informThy thoughts with nobleness, that thou mayst proveTo shame unvulnerable, and stick i’ th’ warsLike a great seamark standing every flawAnd saving those that eye thee.
VOLUMNIA.[To young Martius.] Your knee, sirrah.
[He kneels.]
CORIOLANUS.That’s my brave boy!
VOLUMNIA.Even he, your wife, this lady, and myselfAre suitors to you.
[YoungMartiusrises.]
CORIOLANUS.I beseech you, peace;Or, if you’d ask, remember this before:The thing I have forsworn to grant may neverBe held by you denials. Do not bid meDismiss my soldiers or capitulateAgain with Rome’s mechanics. Tell me notWherein I seem unnatural; desire notT’ allay my rages and revenges withYour colder reasons.
VOLUMNIA.O, no more, no more!You have said you will not grant us anything;For we have nothing else to ask but thatWhich you deny already. Yet we will ask,That if you fail in our request, the blameMay hang upon your hardness. Therefore hear us.
CORIOLANUS.Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark, for we’llHear naught from Rome in private. Your request?
VOLUMNIA.Should we be silent and not speak, our raimentAnd state of bodies would bewray what lifeWe have led since thy exile. Think with thyselfHow more unfortunate than all living womenAre we come hither; since that thy sight, which shouldMake 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 seeThe son, the husband, and the father tearingHis country’s bowels out. And to poor weThine enmity’s most capital. Thou barr’st usOur prayers to the gods, which is a comfortThat 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 loseThe country, our dear nurse, or else thy person,Our comfort in the country. We must findAn evident calamity, though we hadOur wish, which side should win, for either thouMust as a foreign recreant be ledWith manacles through our streets, or elseTriumphantly tread on thy country’s ruinAnd bear the palm for having bravely shedThy wife and children’s blood. For myself, son,I purpose not to wait on fortune tillThese wars determine. If I cannot persuade theeRather to show a noble grace to both partsThan seek the end of one, thou shalt no soonerMarch to assault thy country than to tread—Trust to’t, thou shalt not—on thy mother’s wombThat brought thee to this world.
VIRGILIA.Ay, and mine,That brought you forth this boy to keep your nameLiving to time.
YOUNG MARTIUS.He 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 beRequires nor child nor woman’s face to see.—I have sat too long.
[He rises.]
VOLUMNIA.Nay, go not from us thus.If it were so, that our request did tendTo save the Romans, thereby to destroyThe Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn usAs poisonous of your honour. No, our suitIs that you reconcile them, while the VolscesMay say “This mercy we have showed,” the Romans“This we received,” and each in either sideGive the all-hail to thee and cry, “Be blessedFor making up this peace!” Thou know’st, great son,The end of war’s uncertain, but this certain,That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefitWhich thou shalt thereby reap is such a nameWhose repetition will be dogged with curses,Whose chronicle thus writ: “The man was noble,But with his last attempt he wiped it out;Destroyed his country, and his name remainsTo th’ ensuing age abhorred.” Speak to me, son.Thou hast affected the fine strains of honourTo imitate the graces of the gods,To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o’ th’ airAnd yet to charge thy sulphur with a boltThat should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak?Think’st thou it honourable for a noble manStill to remember wrongs?—Daughter, speak you.He cares not for your weeping.—Speak thou, boy.Perhaps thy childishness will move him moreThan can our reasons.—There’s no man in the worldMore bound to’s mother, yet here he lets me prateLike one i’ th’ stocks. Thou hast never in thy lifeShowed thy dear mother any courtesyWhen she, poor hen, fond of no second brood,Has clucked thee to the wars and safely home,Loaden with honour. Say my request’s unjustAnd spurn me back; but if it be not so,Thou art not honest, and the gods will plague theeThat thou restrain’st from me the duty whichTo a mother’s part belongs.—He turns away.—Down, ladies! Let us shame him with our knees.To his surname Coriolanus ’longs more prideThan pity to our prayers. Down! An end.
[They kneel.]
This is the last. So we will home to RomeAnd die among our neighbours.—Nay, behold’s.This boy that cannot tell what he would have,But kneels and holds up hands for fellowship,Does reason our petition with more strengthThan thou hast to deny’t.—Come, let us go.
[They rise.]
This fellow had a Volscian to his mother,His wife is in Corioles, and his childLike him by chance.—Yet give us our dispatch.I am hushed until our city be afire,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 sceneThey 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 prevailed,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 heardA 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 makeMine 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!
[He speaks with them aside.]
AUFIDIUS.[Aside.] I am glad thou hast set thy mercy and thy honourAt difference in thee. Out of that I’ll workMyself a former fortune.
CORIOLANUS.[To the Women.] Ay, by and by;But we’ll drink together, and you shall bearA better witness back than words, which we,On like conditions, will have countersealed.Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserveTo have a temple built you. All the swordsIn Italy, and her confederate arms,Could not have made this peace.
[Exeunt.]
EnterMeneniusandSicinius.
MENENIUS.See you yond coign o’ the Capitol, yond cornerstone?
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 Martius 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 aMessenger.
MESSENGER.Sir, if you’d save your life, fly to your house.The plebeians have got your fellow tribuneAnd hale him up and down, all swearing ifThe Roman ladies bring not comfort home,They’ll give him death by inches.
Enter anotherMessenger.
SICINIUS.What’s the news?
SECOND MESSENGER.Good news, good news! The ladies have prevailed.The Volscians are dislodged and Martius gone.A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,No, not th’ expulsion of the Tarquins.
SICINIUS.Friend,Art thou certain this is true? Is’t most certain?
SECOND MESSENGER.As certain as I know the sun is fire.Where have you lurked that you make doubt of it?Ne’er through an arch so hurried the blown tideAs the recomforted through th’ gates. Why, hark you!
[Trumpets, hautboys, drums beat, all together.]
The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes,Tabors and cymbals, and the shouting RomansMake the sun dance. Hark you!
[A shout within.]
MENENIUS.This is good news.I will go meet the ladies. This VolumniaIs worth of consuls, senators, patriciansA city full; of tribunes such as youA sea and land full. You have prayed well today.This morning for ten thousand of your throatsI’d not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy!
[Sound still with the 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?
MESSENGER.Almost at point to enter.
SICINIUS.We’ll meet them, and help the joy.
[Exeunt.]
Enter two Senators, with Ladies(Volumnia, Virgilia, Valeria)passing over the stage, with other Lords.
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 banished Martius,Repeal him with the welcome of his mother.Cry “Welcome, ladies, welcome!”
ALL.Welcome, ladies, welcome!
[A flourish with drums and trumpets.]
[Exeunt.]
EnterTullus Aufidiuswith Attendants.
AUFIDIUS.Go tell the lords o’ th’ city I am here.Deliver them this paper.
[He gives them a paper.]
Having read it,Bid them repair to th’ marketplace, where I,Even in theirs and in the commons’ ears,Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuseThe city ports by this hath entered andIntends t’ appear before the people, hopingTo purge himself with words. Dispatch.
[Exeunt Attendants.]
Enter three or fourConspiratorsofAufidius’sfaction.
Most welcome!
FIRST CONSPIRATOR.How is it with our general?
AUFIDIUS.Even soAs with a man by his own alms empoisonedAnd with his charity slain.
SECOND CONSPIRATOR.Most noble sir,If you do hold the same intent whereinYou wished us parties, we’ll deliver youOf 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 eitherMakes the survivor heir of all.
AUFIDIUS.I know it,And my pretext to strike at him admitsA good construction. I raised him, and I pawnedMine honour for his truth, who being so heightened,He watered his new plants with dews of flattery,Seducing so my friends; and to this end,He bowed his nature, never known beforeBut to be rough, unswayable, and free.
THIRD CONSPIRATOR.Sir, his stoutnessWhen he did stand for consul, which he lostBy lack of stooping—
AUFIDIUS.That I would have spoke of.Being banished for’t, he came unto my hearth,Presented to my knife his throat. I took him,Made him joint servant with me, gave him wayIn all his own desires; nay, let him chooseOut of my files, his projects to accomplish,My best and freshest men; served his designmentsIn mine own person; holp to reap the fameWhich he did end all his; and took some prideTo do myself this wrong; till at the lastI seemed his follower, not partner; andHe waged me with his countenance as ifI had been mercenary.
FIRST CONSPIRATOR.So he did, my lord.The army marvelled at it, and, in the last,When he had carried Rome and that we lookedFor no less spoil than glory—
AUFIDIUS.There was itFor which my sinews shall be stretched upon him.At a few drops of women’s rheum, which areAs cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labourOf 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 entered like a postAnd had no welcomes home, but he returnsSplitting the air with noise.
SECOND CONSPIRATOR.And patient fools,Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tearWith giving him glory.
THIRD CONSPIRATOR.Therefore at your vantage,Ere he express himself or move the peopleWith what he would say, let him feel your sword,Which we will second. When he lies along,After your way his tale pronounced shall buryHis reasons with his body.
AUFIDIUS.Say no more.Here come the lords.
Enter theLordsof the city.
ALL LORDS.You are most welcome home.
AUFIDIUS.I have not deserved it.But, worthy lords, have you with heed perusedWhat I have written to you?
ALL LORDS.We have.
FIRST LORD.And grieve to hear’t.What faults he made before the last, I thinkMight have found easy fines, but there to endWhere he was to begin and give awayThe benefit of our levies, answering usWith our own charge, making a treaty whereThere was a yielding—this admits no excuse.
EnterCoriolanusmarching with Drum and Colours, the Commoners being with him.
AUFIDIUS.He approaches. You shall hear him.
CORIOLANUS.Hail, lords! I am returned your soldier,No more infected with my country’s loveThan when I parted hence, but still subsistingUnder your great command. You are to knowThat prosperously I have attempted, andWith bloody passage led your wars even toThe gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought homeDoth more than counterpoise a full third partThe charges of the action. We have made peaceWith no less honour to the AntiatesThan shame to th’ Romans, and we here deliver,Subscribed by th’ Consuls and patricians,Together with the seal o’ th’ Senate, whatWe have compounded on.
[He offers the lords a paper.]
AUFIDIUS.Read it not, noble lords,But tell the traitor in the highest degreeHe hath abused your powers.
CORIOLANUS.“Traitor?” How now?
AUFIDIUS.Ay, traitor, Martius.
CORIOLANUS.Martius?
AUFIDIUS.Ay, Martius, Caius Martius. Dost thou thinkI’ll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol’n nameCoriolanus, in Corioles?You lords and heads o’ th’ state, perfidiouslyHe has betrayed your business and given upFor certain drops of salt your city Rome—I say your city—to his wife and mother,Breaking his oath and resolution likeA twist of rotten silk, never admittingCounsel o’ th’ war, but at his nurse’s tearsHe whined and roared away your victory,That pages blushed at him and men of heartLooked wond’ring 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 heartToo great for what contains it. “Boy”? O slave!—Pardon me, lords, ’tis the first time that everI was forced to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords,Must give this cur the lie; and his own notion—Who wears my stripes impressed upon him, thatMust bear my beating to his grave—shall joinTo 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 dovecote, IFluttered your Volscians in Corioles,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 PEOPLETear him to pieces! Do it presently! He killed 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 inThis orb o’ th’ Earth. His last offences to usShall 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!
[Draw theConspirators, and killsMartius, who falls.Aufidiusstands on him.]
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 dangerWhich this man’s life did owe you, you’ll rejoiceThat he is thus cut off. Please it your HonoursTo call me to your senate, I’ll deliverMyself your loyal servant, or endureYour heaviest censure.
FIRST LORD.Bear from hence his body,And mourn you for him. Let him be regardedAs the most noble corse that ever heraldDid follow to his urn.
SECOND LORD.His own impatienceTakes 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’ th’ chiefest soldiers; I’ll be one.—Beat thou the drum that it speak mournfully.—Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city heHath widowed and unchilded many a one,Which to this hour bewail the injury,Yet he shall have a noble memory.Assist.
[Exeunt, bearing the body ofMartius. A dead march sounded.]