CORIOLANUS. "Shall"? O good but most unwise patricians, why, You grave but reckless senators, have you thus Given Hydra leave to choose an officer, That with his peremptory "shall," being but The horn and noise o' th' monster's, wants not spirit To say he'll turn your current in a ditch And make your channel his? If he have power, Then vail your ignorance; if none, awake Your dangerous lenity. If you are learned, Be not as common fools; if you are not, Let them have cushions by you. You are plebeians, If they be senators; and they are no less When, both your voices blended, the great'st taste Most palates theirs. They choose their magistrate, And such a one as he, who puts his "shall," His popular "shall," against a graver bench Than ever frowned in Greece. By Jove himself, It makes the consuls base! And my soul aches To know, when two authorities are up, Neither supreme, how soon confusion May enter 'twixt the gap of both and take The one by th' other.


COMINIUS. Well, on to th' marketplace.


CORIOLANUS. Whoever gave that counsel to give forth The corn o' th' storehouse gratis, as 'twas used Sometime in Greece—


MENENIUS. Well, well, no more of that.


CORIOLANUS. Though there the people had more absolute power, I say they nourished disobedience, fed The ruin of the state.


BRUTUS. Why shall the people give One that speaks thus their voice?


CORIOLANUS. I'll give my reasons, More worthier than their voices. They know the corn Was not our recompense, resting well assured They ne'er did service for't. Being pressed to th' war, Even when the navel of the state was touched, They would not thread the gates. This kind of service Did not deserve corn gratis. Being i' th' war, Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they showed Most valour, spoke not for them. Th' accusation Which they have often made against the Senate, All cause unborn, could never be the native Of our so frank donation. Well, what then? How shall this bosom multitude digest The senate's courtesy? Let deeds express What's like to be their words: "We did request it; We are the greater poll, and in true fear They gave us our demands." Thus we debase The nature of our seats and make the rabble Call our cares fears, which will in time Break ope the locks o' th' Senate and bring in The crows to peck the eagles.


MENENIUS. Come, enough.


BRUTUS. Enough, with over-measure.


CORIOLANUS. No, take more! What may be sworn by, both divine and human, Seal what I end withal! This double worship— Where one part does disdain with cause, the other Insult without all reason, where gentry, title, wisdom Cannot conclude but by the yea and no Of general ignorance—it must omit Real necessities and give way the while To unstable slightness. Purpose so barred, it follows Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore, beseech you— You that will be less fearful than discreet, That love the fundamental part of state More than you doubt the change on't, that prefer A noble life before a long, and wish To jump a body with a dangerous physic That's sure of death without it—at once pluck out The multitudinous tongue; let them not lick The sweet which is their poison. Your dishonour Mangles true judgment and bereaves the state Of that integrity which should become't, Not having the power to do the good it would For th' ill which doth control't.


BRUTUS. 'Has said enough.


SICINIUS. 'Has spoken like a traitor, and shall answer As traitors do.


CORIOLANUS. Thou wretch, despite o'erwhelm thee! What should the people do with these bald tribunes, On whom depending, their obedience fails To th' greater bench. In a rebellion, When what's not meet but what must be was law, Then were they chosen. In a better hour, Let what is meet be said it must be meet, And throw their power i' th' dust.


BRUTUS. Manifest treason.


SICINIUS. This a consul? No.


BRUTUS. The aediles, ho! Let him be apprehended.


SICINIUS. Go call the people;


in whose name myself Attach thee as a traitorous innovator, A foe to th' public weal. Obey, I charge thee, And follow to thine answer.


CORIOLANUS. Hence, old goat.


ALL PATRICIANS. We'll surety him.


COMINIUS. [to Sicinius.] Aged sir, hands off.


CORIOLANUS. [to Sicinius.] Hence, rotten thing, or I shall shake thy bones Out of thy garments.


SICINIUS. Help, ye citizens!


Enter a rabble of Plebeians with the Aediles.


MENENIUS. On both sides more respect!


SICINIUS. Here's he that would take from you all your power.


ALL PLEBEIANS. Down with him, down with him!


SECOND SENATOR. Weapons, weapons, weapons!


[They all bustle about Coriolanus.]


Tribunes, patricians, citizens, what, ho! Sicinius, Brutus, Coriolanus, citizens!


ALL. Peace, peace, peace! Stay, hold, peace!


MENENIUS. What is about to be? I am out of breath. Confusion's near. I cannot speak. You tribunes To th' people!—Coriolanus, patience!— Speak, good Sicinius.


SICINIUS. Hear me, people! Peace!


ALL PLEBEIANS. Let's hear our tribune. Peace! Speak, speak, speak.


SICINIUS. You are at point to lose your liberties. Martius would have all from you, Martius, Whom late you have named for consul.


MENENIUS. Fie, fie, fie! This is the way to kindle, not to quench.


FIRST SENATOR. To unbuild the city and to lay all flat.


SICINIUS. What is the city but the people?


ALL PLEBEIANS. True, The people are the city.


BRUTUS. By the consent of all, we were established The people's magistrates.


MENENIUS. And so are like to do.


COMINIUS. That is the way to lay the city flat, To bring the roof to the foundation And bury all which yet distinctly ranges In heaps and piles of ruin.


SICINIUS. This deserves death.


BRUTUS. Or let us stand to our authority Or let us lose it. We do here pronounce, Upon the part o' th' people, in whose power We were elected theirs, Martius is worthy Of present death.


SICINIUS. Therefore lay hold of him, Bear him to th' rock Tarpeian, and from thence Into destruction cast him.


ALL PLEBEIANS. Yield, Martius, yield!


MENENIUS. Hear me one word. Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word.


MENENIUS. Be that you seem, truly your country's friend, And temp'rately proceed to what you would Thus violently redress.


BRUTUS. Sir, those cold ways, That seem like prudent helps, are very poisonous Where the disease is violent.—Lay hands upon him, And bear him to the rock.


[Coriolanus draws his sword.]


CORIOLANUS. No; I'll die here. There's some among you have beheld me fighting. Come, try upon yourselves what you have seen me.


MENENIUS. Down with that sword!—Tribunes, withdraw awhile.


BRUTUS. Lay hands upon him!


MENENIUS. Help Martius, help! You that be noble, help him, young and old!


[In this mutiny the Tribunes, the Aediles and the People are beat in.]


MENENIUS. Go, get you to your house. Begone, away. All will be naught else.


CORIOLANUS. Stand fast! We have as many friends as enemies.


MENENIUS. Shall it be put to that?


FIRST SENATOR. The gods forbid! I prithee, noble friend, home to thy house; Leave us to cure this cause.


MENENIUS. For 'tis a sore upon us You cannot tent yourself. Begone, beseech you.


COMINIUS. Come, sir, along with us.


CORIOLANUS. I would they were barbarians, as they are, Though in Rome littered, not Romans, as they are not, Though calved i' th' porch o' th' Capitol.


MENENIUS. Begone! Put not your worthy rage into your tongue. One time will owe another.


CORIOLANUS. On fair ground I could beat forty of them.


MENENIUS. I could myself Take up a brace o' th' best of them, yea, the two tribunes.


COMINIUS. But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic, And manhood is called foolery when it stands Against a falling fabric. Will you hence, Before the tag return, whose rage doth rend Like interrupted waters, and o'erbear What they are used to bear?


MENENIUS. Pray you, begone. I'll try whether my old wit be in request With those that have but little. This must be patched With cloth of any colour.


COMINIUS. Nay, come away.


[Exeunt Coriolanus and Cominius.]


PATRICIAN. This man has marred his fortune.


MENENIUS. His nature is too noble for the world. He would not flatter Neptune for his trident Or Jove for's power to thunder. His heart's his mouth; What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent, And, being angry, does forget that ever He heard the name of death.


[A noise within.]


Here's goodly work.


PATRICIAN. I would they were abed!


MENENIUS. I would they were in Tiber! What the vengeance, Could he not speak 'em fair?


Enter Brutus and Sicinius with the rabble again.


SICINIUS. Where is this viper That would depopulate the city and Be every man himself?


MENENIUS. You worthy tribunes—


SICINIUS. He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock With rigorous hands. He hath resisted law, And therefore law shall scorn him further trial Than the severity of the public power Which he so sets at naught.


FIRST CITIZEN. He shall well know The noble tribunes are the people's mouths, And we their hands.


ALL PLEBEIANS. He shall, sure on't.


SICINIUS. Peace!


MENENIUS. Do not cry havoc where you should but hunt With modest warrant.


SICINIUS. Sir, how comes't that you Have holp to make this rescue?


MENENIUS. Hear me speak. As I do know the Consul's worthiness, So can I name his faults.


MENENIUS. The consul Coriolanus.


MENENIUS. If, by the Tribunes' leave, and yours, good people, I may be heard, I would crave a word or two, The which shall turn you to no further harm Than so much loss of time.


SICINIUS. Speak briefly then, For we are peremptory to dispatch This viperous traitor. To eject him hence Were but one danger, and to keep him here Our certain death. Therefore it is decreed He dies tonight.


MENENIUS. Now the good gods forbid That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude Towards her deserved children is enrolled In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam Should now eat up her own.


SICINIUS. He's a disease that must be cut away.


MENENIUS. O, he's a limb that has but a disease— Mortal to cut it off; to cure it easy. What has he done to Rome that's worthy death? Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost— Which I dare vouch is more than that he hath By many an ounce—he dropt it for his country; And what is left, to lose it by his country Were to us all, that do't and suffer it A brand to th' end o' th' world.


SICINIUS. This is clean cam.


BRUTUS. Merely awry. When he did love his country, It honoured him.


MENENIUS. The service of the foot, Being once gangrened, is not then respected For what before it was.


BRUTUS. We'll hear no more. Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence, Lest his infection, being of catching nature, Spread further.


MENENIUS. One word more, one word! This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find The harm of unscanned swiftness, will too late, Tie leaden pounds to's heels. Proceed by process, Lest parties—as he is beloved—break out And sack great Rome with Romans.


BRUTUS. If it were so—


SICINIUS. What do ye talk? Have we not had a taste of his obedience? Our aediles smote! Ourselves resisted? Come.


MENENIUS. Consider this: he has been bred i' th' wars Since he could draw a sword, and is ill schooled In bolted language; meal and bran together He throws without distinction. Give me leave, I'll go to him and undertake to bring him Where he shall answer by a lawful form, In peace, to his utmost peril.


FIRST SENATOR. Noble tribunes, It is the humane way: the other course Will prove too bloody, and the end of it Unknown to the beginning.


SICINIUS. Noble Menenius, Be you then as the people's officer.— Masters, lay down your weapons.


BRUTUS. Go not home.


SICINIUS. Meet on the marketplace. We'll attend you there, Where if you bring not Martius, we'll proceed In our first way.


MENENIUS. I'll bring him to you. [To Senators.] Let me desire your company. He must come, Or what is worst will follow.


FIRST SENATOR. Pray you, let's to him.


SCENE II. Rome. A room in Coriolanus's house


Enter Coriolanus with Nobles.


CORIOLANUS. Let them pull all about mine ears, present me Death on the wheel or at wild horses' heels, Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, That the precipitation might down stretch Below the beam of sight, yet will I still Be thus to them.


FIRST PATRICIAN. You do the nobler.


CORIOLANUS. I muse my mother Does not approve me further, who was wont To call them woollen vassals, things created To buy and sell with groats, to show bare heads In congregations, to yawn, be still, and wonder When one but of my ordinance stood up To speak of peace or war.


I talk of you. Why did you wish me milder? Would you have me False to my nature? Rather say I play The man I am.


VOLUMNIA. O, sir, sir, sir, I would have had you put your power well on Before you had worn it out.


VOLUMNIA. You might have been enough the man you are With striving less to be so. Lesser had been The thwartings of your dispositions if You had not showed them how ye were disposed Ere they lacked power to cross you.


CORIOLANUS. Let them hang!


VOLUMNIA. Ay, and burn too.


Enter Menenius with the Senators.


MENENIUS. Come, come, you have been too rough, something too rough. You must return and mend it.


FIRST SENATOR. There's no remedy, Unless, by not so doing, our good city Cleave in the midst and perish.


VOLUMNIA. Pray be counselled. I have a heart as little apt as yours, But yet a brain that leads my use of anger To better vantage.


MENENIUS. Well said, noble woman. Before he should thus stoop to th' herd—but that The violent fit o' th' time craves it as physic For the whole state—I would put mine armour on, Which I can scarcely bear.


CORIOLANUS. What must I do?


MENENIUS. Return to th' Tribunes.


CORIOLANUS. Well, what then? What then?


MENENIUS. Repent what you have spoke.


CORIOLANUS. For them? I cannot do it to the gods. Must I then do't to them?


VOLUMNIA. You are too absolute, Though therein you can never be too noble But when extremities speak. I have heard you say Honour and policy, like unsevered friends, I' th' war do grow together. Grant that, and tell me In peace what each of them by th' other lose That they combine not there.


MENENIUS. A good demand.


VOLUMNIA. If it be honour in your wars to seem The same you are not, which for your best ends You adopt your policy, how is it less or worse That it shall hold companionship in peace With honour as in war, since that to both It stands in like request?


CORIOLANUS. Why force you this?


VOLUMNIA. Because that now it lies you on to speak To th' people, not by your own instruction, Nor by th' matter which your heart prompts you, But with such words that are but rooted in Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables Of no allowance to your bosom's truth. Now, this no more dishonours you at all Than to take in a town with gentle words, Which else would put you to your fortune and The hazard of much blood. I would dissemble with my nature where My fortunes and my friends at stake required I should do so in honour. I am in this Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles; And you will rather show our general louts How you can frown than spend a fawn upon 'em For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard Of what that want might ruin.


MENENIUS. Noble lady!— Come, go with us; speak fair. You may salve so, Not what is dangerous present, but the loss Of what is past.


VOLUMNIA. I prithee now, my son, Go to them with this bonnet in thy hand, And thus far having stretched it—here be with them— Thy knee bussing the stones—for in such busines Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th' ignorant More learned than the ears—waving thy head, Which often thus correcting thy stout heart, Now humble as the ripest mulberry That will not hold the handling. Or say to them Thou art their soldier and, being bred in broils, Hast not the soft way, which thou dost confess Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim, In asking their good loves; but thou wilt frame Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far As thou hast power and person.


MENENIUS. This but done Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours; For they have pardons, being asked, as free As words to little purpose.


VOLUMNIA. Prithee now, Go, and be ruled; although I know thou hadst rather Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf Than flatter him in a bower.


Here is Cominius.


COMINIUS. I have been i' th' marketplace; and, sir, 'tis fit You make strong party or defend yourself By calmness or by absence. All's in anger.


MENENIUS. Only fair speech.


COMINIUS. I think 'twill serve, if he Can thereto frame his spirit.


VOLUMNIA. He must, and will.— Prithee, now, say you will, and go about it.


CORIOLANUS. Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce? Must I With my base tongue give to my noble heart A lie that it must bear? Well, I will do't. Yet, were there but this single plot to lose, This mould of Martius, they to dust should grind it And throw't against the wind. To th' marketplace! You have put me now to such a part which never I shall discharge to th' life.


COMINIUS. Come, come, we'll prompt you.


VOLUMNIA. I prithee now, sweet son, as thou hast said My praises made thee first a soldier, so, To have my praise for this, perform a part Thou hast not done before.


CORIOLANUS. Well, I must do't. Away, my disposition, and possess me Some harlot's spirit! My throat of war be turned, Which choired with my drum, into a pipe Small as an eunuch or the virgin voice That babies lulls asleep! The smiles of knaves Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys' tears take up The glasses of my sight! A beggar's tongue Make motion through my lips, and my armed knees, Who bowed but in my stirrup, bend like his That hath received an alms! I will not do't, Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth And, by my body's action, teach my mind A most inherent baseness.


VOLUMNIA. At thy choice, then. To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour Than thou of them. Come all to ruin. Let Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear Thy dangerous stoutness, for I mock at death With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list. Thy valiantness was mine; thou suck'dst it from me, But owe thy pride thyself.


CORIOLANUS. Pray, be content. Mother, I am going to the marketplace. Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves, Cog their hearts from them, and come home beloved Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going. Commend me to my wife. I'll return consul, Or never trust to what my tongue can do I' th' way of flattery further.


VOLUMNIA. Do your will.


COMINIUS. Away! The Tribunes do attend you. Arm yourself To answer mildly, for they are prepared With accusations, as I hear, more strong Than are upon you yet.


CORIOLANUS. The word is "mildly." Pray you, let us go. Let them accuse me by invention, I Will answer in mine honour.


MENENIUS. Ay, but mildly.


CORIOLANUS. Well, mildly be it, then. Mildly.


BRUTUS. In this point charge him home, that he affects Tyrannical power. If he evade us there, Enforce him with his envy to the people, And that the spoil got on the Antiates Was ne'er distributed.


What, will he come?


AEDILE. He's coming.


BRUTUS. How accompanied?


AEDILE. With old Menenius, and those senators That always favoured him.


SICINIUS. Have you a catalogue Of all the voices that we have procured, Set down by th' poll?


AEDILE. I have. 'Tis ready.


SICINIUS. Have you collected them by tribes?


AEDILE. I have.


SICINIUS. Assemble presently the people hither; And when they hear me say "It shall be so I' th' right and strength o' th' commons," be it either For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them If I say "Fine," cry "Fine," if "Death," cry "Death," Insisting on the old prerogative And power i' th' truth o' th' cause.


AEDILE. I shall inform them.


BRUTUS. And when such time they have begun to cry, Let them not cease, but with a din confused Enforce the present execution Of what we chance to sentence.


AEDILE. Very well.


SICINIUS. Make them be strong and ready for this hint When we shall hap to give't them.


BRUTUS. Go about it.


Put him to choler straight. He hath been used Ever to conquer and to have his worth Of contradiction. Being once chafed, he cannot Be reined again to temperance; then he speaks What's in his heart; and that is there which looks With us to break his neck.


Enter Coriolanus, Menenius and Cominius with other Senators.


SICINIUS. Well, here he comes.


MENENIUS. Calmly, I do beseech you.


CORIOLANUS. Ay, as an ostler, that for th' poorest piece Will bear the knave by th' volume.—Th' honoured gods Keep Rome in safety and the chairs of justice Supplied with worthy men! Plant love among's! Throng our large temples with the shows of peace And not our streets with war!


MENENIUS. A noble wish.


Enter the Aedile with the Plebeians.


SICINIUS. Draw near, ye people.


AEDILE. List to your tribunes. Audience! Peace, I say!


CORIOLANUS. First, hear me speak.


BOTH TRIBUNES. Well, say.—Peace, ho!


CORIOLANUS. Shall I be charged no further than this present? Must all determine here?


SICINIUS. I do demand If you submit you to the people's voices, Allow their officers, and are content To suffer lawful censure for such faults As shall be proved upon you.


MENENIUS. Lo, citizens, he says he is content. The warlike service he has done, consider. Think Upon the wounds his body bears, which show Like graves i' th' holy churchyard.


CORIOLANUS. Scratches with briars, Scars to move laughter only.


MENENIUS. Consider further, That when he speaks not like a citizen, You find him like a soldier. Do not take His rougher accents for malicious sounds, But, as I say, such as become a soldier Rather than envy you.


CORIOLANUS. What is the matter, That, being passed for consul with full voice, I am so dishonoured that the very hour You take it off again?


SICINIUS. Answer to us.


CORIOLANUS. Say then. 'Tis true, I ought so.


SICINIUS. We charge you that you have contrived to take From Rome all seasoned office and to wind Yourself into a power tyrannical, For which you are a traitor to the people.


CORIOLANUS. How? Traitor?


MENENIUS. Nay, temperately! Your promise.


CORIOLANUS. The fires i' th' lowest hell fold in the people! Call me their traitor? Thou injurious tribune! Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, In thy hands clutched as many millions, in Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say "Thou liest" unto thee with a voice as free As I do pray the gods.


SICINIUS. Mark you this, people?


ALL PLEBEIANS. To th' rock, to th' rock with him!


SICINIUS. Peace! We need not put new matter to his charge. What you have seen him do and heard him speak, Beating your officers, cursing yourselves, Opposing laws with strokes, and here defying Those whose great power must try him—even this, So criminal and in such capital kind, Deserves th' extremest death.


BRUTUS. But since he hath Served well for Rome—


CORIOLANUS. What do you prate of service?


BRUTUS. I talk of that that know it.


MENENIUS. Is this the promise that you made your mother?


CORIOLANUS. I'll know no further. Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, Vagabond exile, flaying, pent to linger But with a grain a day, I would not buy Their mercy at the price of one fair word, Nor check my courage for what they can give, To have't with saying "Good morrow."


SICINIUS. For that he has, As much as in him lies, from time to time Envied against the people, seeking means To pluck away their power, as now at last Given hostile strokes, and that not in the presence Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers That do distribute it, in the name o' th' people And in the power of us the Tribunes, we, Even from this instant, banish him our city In peril of precipitation From off the rock Tarpeian, never more To enter our Rome gates. I' th' people's name, I say it shall be so.


ALL PLEBEIANS. It shall be so, it shall be so! Let him away! He's banished, and it shall be so.


COMINIUS. Hear me, my masters and my common friends—


SICINIUS. He's sentenced. No more hearing.


COMINIUS. Let me speak. I have been consul and can show for Rome Her enemies' marks upon me. I do love My country's good with a respect more tender, More holy and profound, than mine own life, My dear wife's estimate, her womb's increase, And treasure of my loins. Then if I would Speak that—


SICINIUS. We know your drift. Speak what?


BRUTUS. There's no more to be said, but he is banished As enemy to the people and his country. It shall be so.


ALL PLEBEIANS. It shall be so, it shall be so!


CORIOLANUS. You common cry of curs, whose breath I hate As reek o' th' rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you! And here remain with your uncertainty; Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts; Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, Fan you into despair! Have the power still To banish your defenders, till at length Your ignorance—which finds not till it feels, Making but reservation of yourselves, Still your own foes—deliver you, As most abated captives to some nation That won you without blows! Despising For you the city, thus I turn my back. There is a world elsewhere.


[Exeunt Coriolanus, Cominius, with other Senators.]


AEDILE. The people's enemy is gone, is gone.


ALL PLEBEIANS. Our enemy is banished; he is gone. Hoo, hoo!


[They all shout and throw up their caps.]


SICINIUS. Go see him out at gates, and follow him, As he hath followed you, with all despite. Give him deserved vexation. Let a guard Attend us through the city.


ALL PLEBEIANS. Come, come, let's see him out at gates! Come! The gods preserve our noble tribunes! Come.


SCENE I. Rome. Before a gate of the city


Enter Coriolanus, Volumnia, Virgilia, Menenius, Cominius with the young nobility of Rome.


CORIOLANUS. Come, leave your tears. A brief farewell. The beast With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother, Where is your ancient courage? You were used To say extremities was the trier of spirits; That common chances common men could bear; That when the sea was calm, all boats alike Showed mastership in floating; fortune's blows When most struck home, being gentle wounded craves A noble cunning. You were used to load me With precepts that would make invincible The heart that conned them.


CORIOLANUS. Nay, I prithee, woman—


VOLUMNIA. Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome, And occupations perish!


CORIOLANUS. What, what, what! I shall be loved when I am lacked. Nay, mother, Resume that spirit when you were wont to say If you had been the wife of Hercules, Six of his labours you'd have done and saved Your husband so much sweat.—Cominius, Droop not. Adieu.—Farewell, my wife, my mother. I'll do well yet.—Thou old and true Menenius, Thy tears are salter than a younger man's And venomous to thine eyes.—My sometime general, I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld Heart-hard'ning spectacles. Tell these sad women 'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes As 'tis to laugh at 'em.—My mother, you wot well My hazards still have been your solace, and— Believe't not lightly—though I go alone, Like to a lonely dragon that his fen Makes feared and talked of more than seen, your son Will or exceed the common or be caught With cautelous baits and practice.


VOLUMNIA. My first son, Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius With thee awhile. Determine on some course More than a wild exposture to each chance That starts i' th' way before thee.


VIRGILIA. O the gods!


COMINIUS. I'll follow thee a month, devise with thee Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us And we of thee; so if the time thrust forth A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send O'er the vast world to seek a single man And lose advantage, which doth ever cool I' th' absence of the needer.


CORIOLANUS. Fare ye well. Thou hast years upon thee, and thou art too full Of the wars' surfeits to go rove with one That's yet unbruised. Bring me but out at gate.— Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and My friends of noble touch. When I am forth, Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come. While I remain above the ground, you shall Hear from me still, and never of me aught But what is like me formerly.


MENENIUS. That's worthily As any ear can hear. Come, let's not weep. If I could shake off but one seven years From these old arms and legs, by the good gods, I'd with thee every foot.


CORIOLANUS. Give me thy hand. Come.


SCENE II. Rome. A street near the gate


Enter two Tribunes, Sicinius, Brutus with the Aedile.


SICINIUS. Bid them all home. He's gone, and we'll no further. The nobility are vexed, whom we see have sided In his behalf.


BRUTUS. Now we have shown our power, Let us seem humbler after it is done Than when it was a-doing.


SICINIUS. Bid them home. Say their great enemy is gone, and they Stand in their ancient strength.


BRUTUS. Dismiss them home.


Here comes his mother.


BRUTUS. Why?


SICINIUS. They say she's mad.


BRUTUS. They have ta'en note of us. Keep on your way.


VOLUMNIA. O, you're well met. The hoarded plague o' th' gods Requite your love!


MENENIUS. Peace, peace! Be not so loud.


VOLUMNIA. If that I could for weeping, you should hear— Nay, and you shall hear some. [To Sicinius.] Will you be gone?


VIRGILIA. [To Brutus.] You shall stay too. I would I had the power To say so to my husband.


VOLUMNIA. Ay, fool, is that a shame? Note but this, fool. Was not a man my father? Hadst thou foxship To banish him that struck more blows for Rome Than thou hast spoken words?


SICINIUS. O blessed heavens!


VOLUMNIA. More noble blows than ever thou wise words, And for Rome's good. I'll tell thee what—yet go. Nay, but thou shalt stay too. I would my son Were in Arabia and thy tribe before him, His good sword in his hand.


SICINIUS. What then?


VIRGILIA. What then? He'd make an end of thy posterity.


VOLUMNIA. Bastards and all. Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome!


SICINIUS. I would he had continued to his country As he began, and not unknit himself The noble knot he made.


BRUTUS. I would he had.


VOLUMNIA. "I would he had?" 'Twas you incensed the rabble. Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth As I can of those mysteries which heaven Will not have Earth to know.


BRUTUS. Pray, let's go.


VOLUMNIA. Now, pray, sir, get you gone. You have done a brave deed. Ere you go, hear this: As far as doth the Capitol exceed The meanest house in Rome, so far my son— This lady's husband here, this, do you see?— Whom you have banished, does exceed you all.


SICINIUS. Why stay we to be baited With one that wants her wits?


VOLUMNIA. Take my prayers with you. I would the gods had nothing else to do But to confirm my curses. Could I meet 'em But once a day, it would unclog my heart Of what lies heavy to't.


MENENIUS. You have told them home, And, by my troth, you have cause. You'll sup with me?


VOLUMNIA. Anger's my meat. I sup upon myself And so shall starve with feeding. Come, let's go. Leave this faint puling, and lament as I do, In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come.


SCENE III. A highway between Rome and Antium


Enter a Roman and a Volsce.


ROMAN. I know you well, sir, and you know me. Your name I think is Adrian.


VOLSCE. It is so, sir. Truly, I have forgot you.


ROMAN. I am a Roman, and my services are, as you are, against 'em. Know you me yet?


ROMAN. The same, sir.


VOLSCE. You had more beard when I last saw you, but your favour is well approved by your tongue. What's the news in Rome? I have a note from the Volscian state to find you out there. You have well saved me a day's journey.


ROMAN. There hath been in Rome strange insurrections, the people against the senators, patricians, and nobles.


VOLSCE. Hath been? Is it ended, then? Our state thinks not so. They are in a most warlike preparation and hope to come upon them in the heat of their division.


ROMAN. The main blaze of it is past, but a small thing would make it flame again; for the nobles receive so to heart the banishment of that worthy Coriolanus that they are in a ripe aptness to take all power from the people and to pluck from them their tribunes for ever. This lies glowing, I can tell you, and is almost mature for the violent breaking out.


VOLSCE. Coriolanus banished?


ROMAN. Banished, sir.


VOLSCE. You will be welcome with this intelligence, Nicanor.


ROMAN. The day serves well for them now. I have heard it said the fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is when she's fallen out with her husband. Your noble Tullus Aufidius will appear well in these wars, his great opposer Coriolanus being now in no request of his country.


VOLSCE. He cannot choose. I am most fortunate thus accidentally to encounter you. You have ended my business, and I will merrily accompany you home.


ROMAN. I shall between this and supper tell you most strange things from Rome, all tending to the good of their adversaries. Have you an army ready, say you?


VOLSCE. A most royal one. The centurions and their charges, distinctly billeted, already in th' entertainment, and to be on foot at an hour's warning.


ROMAN. I am joyful to hear of their readiness and am the man, I think, that shall set them in present action. So, sir, heartily well met, and most glad of your company.


VOLSCE. You take my part from me, sir. I have the most cause to be glad of yours.


ROMAN. Well, let us go together.


SCENE IV. Antium. Before Aufidius's house


Enter Coriolanus in mean apparel, disguised and muffled.


CORIOLANUS. A goodly city is this Antium. City, 'Tis I that made thy widows. Many an heir Of these fair edifices 'fore my wars Have I heard groan and drop. Then know me not, Lest that thy wives with spits and boys with stones In puny battle slay me.


CORIOLANUS. Direct me, if it be your will, Where great Aufidius lies. Is he in Antium?


CITIZEN. He is, and feasts the nobles of the state At his house this night.


CORIOLANUS. Which is his house, beseech you?


CITIZEN. This here before you.


CORIOLANUS. Thank you, sir. Farewell.


O world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn, Whose double bosoms seems to wear one heart, Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal and exercise Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love Unseparable, shall within this hour, On a dissension of a doit, break out To bitterest enmity; so fellest foes, Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep To take the one the other, by some chance, Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends And interjoin their issues. So with me: My birthplace hate I, and my love's upon This enemy town. I'll enter. If he slay me, He does fair justice; if he give me way, I'll do his country service.


SCENE V. Antium. A hall in Aufidius's house


Music plays. Enter a Servingman.


FIRST SERVINGMAN. Wine, wine, wine! What service is here? I think our fellows are asleep.


Enter another Servingman.


SECOND SERVINGMAN. Where's Cotus? My master calls for him. Cotus!


CORIOLANUS. A goodly house. The feast smells well, but I Appear not like a guest.


Enter the First Servingman.


FIRST SERVINGMAN. What would you have, friend? Whence are you? Here's no place for you. Pray go to the door.


Enter Second Servingman.


SECOND SERVINGMAN. Whence are you, sir?—Has the porter his eyes in his head, that he gives entrance to such companions?—Pray, get you out.


CORIOLANUS. Now th' art troublesome.


SECOND SERVINGMAN. Are you so brave? I'll have you talked with anon.


Enter Third Servingman; the First, entering, meets him.


THIRD SERVINGMAN. What fellow's this?


FIRST SERVINGMAN. A strange one as ever I looked on. I cannot get him out o' th' house. Prithee call my master to him.


THIRD SERVINGMAN. What have you to do here, fellow? Pray you, avoid the house.


CORIOLANUS. Let me but stand. I will not hurt your hearth.


THIRD SERVINGMAN. What are you?


THIRD SERVINGMAN. Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other station. Here's no place for you. Pray you, avoid. Come.


CORIOLANUS. Follow your function, go, and batten on cold bits.


[Pushes him away from him.]


THIRD SERVINGMAN. What, you will not?—Prithee, tell my master what a strange guest he has here.


SECOND SERVINGMAN. And I shall.


THIRD SERVINGMAN. Where dwell'st thou?


CORIOLANUS. Under the canopy.


THIRD SERVINGMAN. Under the canopy?


THIRD SERVINGMAN. Where's that?


CORIOLANUS. I' th' city of kites and crows.


THIRD SERVINGMAN. I' th' city of kites and crows? What an ass it is! Then thou dwell'st with daws too?


CORIOLANUS. No, I serve not thy master.


THIRD SERVINGMAN. How, sir? Do you meddle with my master?


CORIOLANUS. Ay, 'tis an honester service than to meddle with thy mistress. Thou prat'st and prat'st. Serve with thy trencher, hence!


[Beats him away.]


[Exit Third Servingman.]


Enter Aufidius with the Second Servingman.


AUFIDIUS. Where is this fellow?


SECOND SERVINGMAN. Here, sir. I'd have beaten him like a dog, but for disturbing the lords within.


AUFIDIUS. Whence com'st thou? What wouldst thou? Thy name? Why speak'st not? Speak, man. What's thy name?


CORIOLANUS. [Removing his muffler.] If, Tullus, Not yet thou know'st me, and, seeing me, dost not Think me for the man I am, necessity Commands me name myself.


AUFIDIUS. What is thy name?


CORIOLANUS. A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears And harsh in sound to thine.


AUFIDIUS. Say, what's thy name? Thou has a grim appearance, and thy face Bears a command in't. Though thy tackle's torn, Thou show'st a noble vessel. What's thy name?


CORIOLANUS. Prepare thy brow to frown. Know'st thou me yet?


AUFIDIUS. I know thee not. Thy name?


CORIOLANUS. My name is Caius Martius, who hath done To thee particularly and to all the Volsces Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may My surname Coriolanus. The painful service, The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood Shed for my thankless country are requited But with that surname, a good memory And witness of the malice and displeasure Which thou shouldst bear me. Only that name remains. The cruelty and envy of the people, Permitted by our dastard nobles, who Have all forsook me, hath devoured the rest, And suffered me by th' voice of slaves to be Whooped out of Rome. Now this extremity Hath brought me to thy hearth, not out of hope— Mistake me not—to save my life; for if I had feared death, of all the men i' th' world I would have 'voided thee, but in mere spite, To be full quit of those my banishers, Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge Thine own particular wrongs and stop those maims Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee straight And make my misery serve thy turn. So use it That my revengeful services may prove As benefits to thee, for I will fight Against my cankered country with the spleen Of all the under fiends. But if so be Thou dar'st not this, and that to prove more fortunes Thou 'rt tired, then, in a word, I also am Longer to live most weary, and present My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice, Which not to cut would show thee but a fool, Since I have ever followed thee with hate, Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast, And cannot live but to thy shame, unless It be to do thee service.


AUFIDIUS. O Martius, Martius, Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter Should from yond cloud speak divine things And say 'tis true, I'd not believe them more Than thee, all-noble Martius. Let me twine Mine arms about that body, whereagainst My grained ash an hundred times hath broke And scarred the moon with splinters. Here I clip The anvil of my sword and do contest As hotly and as nobly with thy love As ever in ambitious strength I did Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, I loved the maid I married; never man Sighed truer breath. But that I see thee here, Thou noble thing, more dances my rapt heart Than when I first my wedded mistress saw Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars, I tell thee We have a power on foot, and I had purpose Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn Or lose mine arm for't. Thou hast beat me out Twelve several times, and I have nightly since Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me; We have been down together in my sleep, Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat, And waked half dead with nothing. Worthy Martius, Had we no other quarrel else to Rome but that Thou art thence banished, we would muster all From twelve to seventy and, pouring war Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome, Like a bold flood o'erbear 't. O, come, go in, And take our friendly senators by th' hands, Who now are here, taking their leaves of me, Who am prepared against your territories, Though not for Rome itself.


AUFIDIUS. Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt have The leading of thine own revenges, take Th' one half of my commission and set down— As best thou art experienced, since thou know'st Thy country's strength and weakness—thine own ways, Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, Or rudely visit them in parts remote To fright them ere destroy. But come in. Let me commend thee first to those that shall Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes! And more a friend than e'er an enemy— Yet, Martius, that was much. Your hand. Most welcome!


Two of the Servingmen come forward.


FIRST SERVINGMAN. Here's a strange alteration!


SECOND SERVINGMAN. By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with a cudgel, and yet my mind gave me his clothes made a false report of him.


FIRST SERVINGMAN. What an arm he has! He turned me about with his finger and his thumb as one would set up a top.


SECOND SERVINGMAN. Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in him. He had, sir, a kind of face, methought—I cannot tell how to term it.


FIRST SERVINGMAN. He had so, looking as it were—Would I were hanged, but I thought there was more in him than I could think.


SECOND SERVINGMAN. So did I, I'll be sworn. He is simply the rarest man i' th' world.


FIRST SERVINGMAN. I think he is. But a greater soldier than he you wot one.


SECOND SERVINGMAN. Who, my master?


FIRST SERVINGMAN. Nay, it's no matter for that.


SECOND SERVINGMAN. Worth six on him.


FIRST SERVINGMAN. Nay, not so neither. But I take him to be the greater soldier.


SECOND SERVINGMAN. Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that. For the defence of a town our general is excellent.


FIRST SERVINGMAN. Ay, and for an assault too.


Enter the Third Servingman.


THIRD SERVINGMAN. O slaves, I can tell you news, news, you rascals!


FIRST and SECOND SERVINGMAN. What, what, what? Let's partake.


THIRD SERVINGMAN. I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as lief be a condemned man.


FIRST and SECOND SERVINGMAN. Wherefore? Wherefore?


THIRD SERVINGMAN. Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our general, Caius Martius.


FIRST SERVINGMAN. Why do you say, "thwack our general"?


THIRD SERVINGMAN. I do not say "thwack our general," but he was always good enough for him.


SECOND SERVINGMAN. Come, we are fellows and friends. He was ever too hard for him; I have heard him say so himself.


FIRST SERVINGMAN. He was too hard for him directly, to say the troth on't, before Corioles; he scotched him and notched him like a carbonado.


SECOND SERVINGMAN. An he had been cannibally given, he might have boiled and eaten him too.


FIRST SERVINGMAN. But, more of thy news?


THIRD SERVINGMAN. Why, he is so made on here within as if he were son and heir to Mars; set at upper end o' th' table; no question asked him by any of the senators but they stand bald before him. Our general himself makes a mistress of him, sanctifies himself with's hand, and turns up the white o' th' eye to his discourse. But the bottom of the news is, our general is cut i' th' middle and but one half of what he was yesterday, for the other has half, by the entreaty and grant of the whole table. He'll go, he says, and sowl the porter of Rome gates by th' ears. He will mow all down before him and leave his passage polled.


SECOND SERVINGMAN. And he's as like to do't as any man I can imagine.


THIRD SERVINGMAN. Do't? He will do't! For look you, sir, he has as many friends as enemies, which friends, sir, as it were, durst not, look you, sir, show themselves, as we term it, his friends whilest he's in directitude.


FIRST SERVINGMAN. Directitude? What's that?


THIRD SERVINGMAN. But when they shall see, sir, his crest up again, and the man in blood, they will out of their burrows like coneys after rain, and revel all with him.


FIRST SERVINGMAN. But when goes this forward?


THIRD SERVINGMAN. Tomorrow, today, presently. You shall have the drum struck up this afternoon. 'Tis as it were parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips.


SECOND SERVINGMAN. Why then, we shall have a stirring world again. This peace is nothing but to rust iron, increase tailors, and breed ballad-makers.


FIRST SERVINGMAN. Let me have war, say I. It exceeds peace as far as day does night. It's sprightly walking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more bastard children than war's a destroyer of men.


SECOND SERVINGMAN. 'Tis so, and as war in some sort, may be said to be a ravisher, so it cannot be denied but peace is a great maker of cuckolds.


FIRST SERVINGMAN. Ay, and it makes men hate one another.


THIRD SERVINGMAN. Reason: because they then less need one another. The wars for my money! I hope to see Romans as cheap as Volscians. They are rising; they are rising.


ALL. In, in, in, in!


Enter the two Tribunes. Sicinius and Brutus.


SICINIUS. We hear not of him, neither need we fear him. His remedies are tame—the present peace, And quietness of the people, which before Were in wild hurry. Here do we make his friends Blush that the world goes well, who rather had, Though they themselves did suffer by't, behold Dissentious numbers pest'ring streets than see Our tradesmen singing in their shops and going About their functions friendly.


BRUTUS. We stood to't in good time.


Is this Menenius?


SICINIUS. 'Tis he, 'tis he. O, he is grown most kind Of late.—Hail, sir!


MENENIUS. Hail to you both.


SICINIUS. Your Coriolanus is not much missed But with his friends. The commonwealth doth stand, And so would do were he more angry at it.


MENENIUS. All's well, and might have been much better if He could have temporized.


SICINIUS. Where is he, hear you?


MENENIUS. Nay, I hear nothing; His mother and his wife hear nothing from him.


Enter three or four Citizens.


ALL CITIZENS. The gods preserve you both!


FIRST CITIZEN. Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our knees Are bound to pray for you both.


SICINIUS. Live and thrive!


BRUTUS. Farewell, kind neighbours. We wished Coriolanus Had loved you as we did.


CITIZENS. Now the gods keep you!


SICINIUS. This is a happier and more comely time Than when these fellows ran about the streets Crying confusion.


BRUTUS. Caius Martius was A worthy officer i' th' war, but insolent, O'ercome with pride, ambitious, past all thinking Self-loving.


SICINIUS. And affecting one sole throne, without assistance.


MENENIUS. I think not so.


SICINIUS. We should by this, to all our lamentation, If he had gone forth consul, found it so.


BRUTUS. The gods have well prevented it, and Rome Sits safe and still without him.


AEDILE. Worthy tribunes, There is a slave, whom we have put in prison, Reports the Volsces with two several powers Are entered in the Roman territories, And with the deepest malice of the war Destroy what lies before 'em.


MENENIUS. 'Tis Aufidius, Who, hearing of our Martius' banishment, Thrusts forth his horns again into the world, Which were inshelled when Martius stood for Rome, And durst not once peep out.


SICINIUS. Come, what talk you of Martius?


BRUTUS. Go see this rumourer whipped. It cannot be The Volsces dare break with us.


MENENIUS. Cannot be? We have record that very well it can, And three examples of the like hath been Within my age. But reason with the fellow Before you punish him, where he heard this, Lest you shall chance to whip your information And beat the messenger who bids beware Of what is to be dreaded.


SICINIUS. Tell not me. I know this cannot be.


MESSENGER. The nobles in great earnestness are going All to the Senate House. Some news is coming That turns their countenances.


SICINIUS. 'Tis this slave— Go whip him 'fore the people's eyes—his raising, Nothing but his report.


MESSENGER. Yes, worthy sir, The slave's report is seconded, and more, More fearful, is delivered.


SICINIUS. What more fearful?


MESSENGER. It is spoke freely out of many mouths— How probable I do not know—that Martius, Joined with Aufidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome And vows revenge as spacious as between The young'st and oldest thing.


SICINIUS. This is most likely!


BRUTUS. Raised only that the weaker sort may wish Good Martius home again.


SICINIUS. The very trick on 't.


MENENIUS. This is unlikely; He and Aufidius can no more atone Than violent'st contrariety.


Enter a Second Messenger.


SECOND MESSENGER. You are sent for to the Senate. A fearful army, led by Caius Martius Associated with Aufidius, rages Upon our territories, and have already O'erborne their way, consumed with fire and took What lay before them.


COMINIUS. O, you have made good work!


MENENIUS. What news? What news?


COMINIUS. You have holp to ravish your own daughters and To melt the city leads upon your pates, To see your wives dishonoured to your noses—


MENENIUS. What's the news? What's the news?


COMINIUS. Your temples burned in their cement, and Your franchises, whereon you stood, confined Into an auger's bore.


MENENIUS. Pray now, your news?— You have made fair work, I fear me.—Pray, your news? If Martius should be joined with Volscians—


COMINIUS. If? He is their god; he leads them like a thing Made by some other deity than Nature, That shapes man better; and they follow him Against us brats with no less confidence Than boys pursuing summer butterflies Or butchers killing flies.


MENENIUS. You have made good work, You and your apron-men, you that stood so much Upon the voice of occupation and The breath of garlic eaters!


COMINIUS. He'll shake your Rome about your ears.


MENENIUS. As Hercules did shake down mellow fruit. You have made fair work.


BRUTUS. But is this true, sir?


COMINIUS. Ay, and you'll look pale Before you find it other. All the regions Do smilingly revolt, and who resists Are mocked for valiant ignorance And perish constant fools. Who is't can blame him? Your enemies and his find something in him.


MENENIUS. We are all undone unless The noble man have mercy.


COMINIUS. Who shall ask it? The Tribunes cannot do't for shame; the people Deserve such pity of him as the wolf Does of the shepherds. For his best friends, if they Should say "Be good to Rome," they charged him even As those should do that had deserved his hate And therein showed like enemies.


MENENIUS. 'Tis true. If he were putting to my house the brand That should consume it, I have not the face To say "Beseech you, cease."—You have made fair hands, You and your crafts! You have crafted fair!


COMINIUS. You have brought A trembling upon Rome such as was never S' incapable of help.


TRIBUNES. Say not we brought it.


MENENIUS. How? Was it we? We loved him, but like beasts And cowardly nobles, gave way unto your clusters, Who did hoot him out o' th' city.


COMINIUS. But I fear They'll roar him in again. Tullus Aufidius, The second name of men, obeys his points As if he were his officer. Desperation Is all the policy, strength, and defence That Rome can make against them.


Enter a troop of Citizens.


MENENIUS. Here comes the clusters.— And is Aufidius with him? You are they That made the air unwholesome when you cast Your stinking, greasy caps in hooting at Coriolanus' exile. Now he's coming, And not a hair upon a soldier's head Which will not prove a whip. As many coxcombs As you threw caps up will he tumble down And pay you for your voices. 'Tis no matter. If he could burn us all into one coal We have deserved it.


ALL CITIZENS. Faith, we hear fearful news.


FIRST CITIZEN. For mine own part, When I said banish him, I said 'twas pity.


THIRD CITIZEN. And so did I. And, to say the truth, so did very many of us. That we did we did for the best; and though we willingly consented to his banishment, yet it was against our will.


COMINIUS. You are goodly things, you voices!


MENENIUS. You have made good work, you and your cry!— Shall's to the Capitol?


COMINIUS. O, ay, what else?


SICINIUS. Go, masters, get you home. Be not dismayed. These are a side that would be glad to have This true which they so seem to fear. Go home, And show no sign of fear.


FIRST CITIZEN. The gods be good to us! Come, masters, let's home. I ever said we were i' th' wrong when we banished him.


SECOND CITIZEN. So did we all. But, come, let's home.


BRUTUS. I do not like this news.


BRUTUS. Let's to the Capitol. Would half my wealth Would buy this for a lie!


SICINIUS. Pray let's go.


SCENE VII. A camp at a short distance from Rome


AUFIDIUS. Do they still fly to th' Roman?


LIEUTENANT. I do not know what witchcraft's in him, but Your soldiers use him as the grace 'fore meat, Their talk at table, and their thanks at end; And you are dark'ned in this action, sir, Even by your own.


AUFIDIUS. I cannot help it now, Unless by using means I lame the foot Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier, Even to my person, than I thought he would When first I did embrace him. Yet his nature In that's no changeling, and I must excuse What cannot be amended.


LIEUTENANT. Yet I wish, sir— I mean for your particular—you had not Joined in commission with him, but either Had borne the action of yourself or else To him had left it solely.


AUFIDIUS. I understand thee well, and be thou sure, When he shall come to his account, he knows not What I can urge against him, although it seems, And so he thinks and is no less apparent To th' vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly, And shows good husbandry for the Volscian state, Fights dragonlike, and does achieve as soon As draw his sword; yet he hath left undone That which shall break his neck or hazard mine Whene'er we come to our account.


LIEUTENANT. Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry Rome?


AUFIDIUS. All places yield to him ere he sits down, And the nobility of Rome are his; The Senators and Patricians love him too. The Tribunes are no soldiers, and their people Will be as rash in the repeal as hasty To expel him thence. I think he'll be to Rome As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it By sovereignty of nature. First, he was A noble servant to them, but he could not Carry his honours even. Whether 'twas pride, Which out of daily fortune ever taints The happy man; whether defect of judgment, To fail in the disposing of those chances Which he was lord of; or whether nature, Not to be other than one thing, not moving From th' casque to th' cushion, but commanding peace Even with the same austerity and garb As he controlled the war; but one of these— As he hath spices of them all—not all, For I dare so far free him—made him feared, So hated, and so banished. But he has a merit To choke it in the utt'rance. So our virtues Lie in th' interpretation of the time, And power, unto itself most commendable, Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair T' extol what it hath done. One fire drives out one fire, one nail one nail; Rights by rights falter; strengths by strengths do fail. Come, let's away. When, Caius, Rome is thine, Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou mine.


Enter Menenius, Cominius, Sicinius, Brutus (the two Tribunes), with 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 called me father, But what o' that? Go you that banished him; A mile before his tent, fall down, and knee The way into his mercy. Nay, if he coyed 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, forbade all names. He was a kind of nothing, titleless, Till he had forged himself a name i' th' fire Of burning Rome.


MENENIUS. Why, so; you have made good work! A pair of tribunes that have wracked 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 punished.


MENENIUS. Very well. Could he say less?


COMINIUS. I offered 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 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 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. What should I do?


BRUTUS. Only make trial what your love can do For Rome, towards Martius.


MENENIUS. Well, and say that Martius Return 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 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 unfilled, our blood is cold, and then We pout upon the morning, are unapt To give or to forgive; but when we have stuffed These pipes and these conveyances of our blood With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls Than in our priestlike 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.


COMINIUS. He'll never hear him.


COMINIUS. I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye Red as 'twould burn Rome; and his injury The jailer to his pity. I kneeled before him; 'Twas very faintly he said "Rise"; dismissed 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.


SCENE II. An Advanced post of the Volscian camp before Rome.


Enter Menenius to 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 come To speak with Coriolanus.


FIRST WATCH. From whence?


MENENIUS. From Rome.


FIRST WATCH. You may not pass; you must return. Our general Will no more hear from thence.


SECOND WATCH. 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 touched your ears. It is Menenius.


FIRST WATCH. Be it so; go back. The virtue of your name Is not here passable.


MENENIUS. I tell thee, fellow, Thy general is my lover. I have been The book of his good acts, whence men have read His fame unparalleled happily 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 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—


Enter Coriolanus with 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 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. 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 begone. 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,


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.]


[The Guard and Menenius remain.]


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!


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.


SCENE III. The tent of Coriolanus


Enter Coriolanus and Aufidius.


CORIOLANUS. We will before the walls of Rome tomorrow Set down our host. My partner in this action, You must report to th' Volscian lords how plainly I have borne this business.


AUFIDIUS. Only their ends You have respected, stopped 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 cracked 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 showed sourly to him—once more offered 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.


[Shout within.]


Ha? What shout is this? Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow In the same time 'tis made? I will not.


Enter Virgilia, Volumnia, Valeria, young Martius with attendants.


My wife comes foremost, then the honoured mold 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 curtsy 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."


[They kiss.]


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 virgined it e'er since. You gods! I prate And the most noble mother of the world Leave unsaluted. Sink, my knee, i' th' earth;


Of thy deep duty more impression show Than that of common sons.


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.


CORIOLANUS. What is this? Your knees to me? To your corrected son?


[He raises her up.]


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 th' 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' th' wars Like a great seamark standing every flaw And saving those that eye thee.


CORIOLANUS. That's my brave boy!


VOLUMNIA. Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself Are suitors to you.


[Young Martius rises.]


CORIOLANUS. I beseech you, peace; Or, if you'd 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 T' allay my rages and revenges with Your 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 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 naught 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 through 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 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 be Requires nor child nor woman's face to see.— I have sat too long.


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 showed," the Romans "This we received," and each in either side Give the all-hail to thee and cry, "Be blessed 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 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 remains To th' ensuing age abhorred." 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' th' 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' th' stocks. Thou hast never in thy life Showed thy dear mother any courtesy When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood, Has clucked 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.


[They kneel.]


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 hands for fellowship, Does reason our petition with more strength Than 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 child Like 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 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 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 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!


[He speaks with them aside.]


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.


CORIOLANUS. [To the Women.] Ay, by and by; But we'll drink together, and you shall bear A better witness back than words, which we, On like conditions, will have countersealed. 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.


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.


MESSENGER. Sir, if you'd 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.


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 tide As 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 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 prayed well today. This morning for ten thousand of your throats I'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.


SCENE V. Rome. A street near the gate


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.]


Enter Tullus Aufidius with 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 accuse The city ports by this hath entered and Intends t' appear before the people, hoping To purge himself with words. Dispatch.


Enter three or four Conspirators of Aufidius's faction.


Most welcome!


FIRST CONSPIRATOR. How is it with our general?


AUFIDIUS. Even so As with a man by his own alms empoisoned And with his charity slain.


SECOND CONSPIRATOR. Most noble sir, If you do hold the same intent wherein You wished 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 pawned Mine 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 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 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 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 seemed 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 marvelled at it, and, in the last, When he had carried Rome and that we looked For no less spoil than glory—


AUFIDIUS. There was it For which my sinews shall be stretched 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 entered 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 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?


ALL 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.


Enter Coriolanus marching 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 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 Doth 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 th' Romans, and we here deliver, Subscribed by th' Consuls and patricians, Together with the seal o' th' Senate, what We have compounded on.


[He offers the lords a paper.]


AUFIDIUS. Read it not, noble lords, But tell the traitor in the highest degree He hath abused your powers.


CORIOLANUS. "Traitor?" How now?


AUFIDIUS. Ay, traitor, Martius.


AUFIDIUS. Ay, Martius, Caius Martius. Dost thou think I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name Coriolanus, in Corioles? You lords and heads o' th' state, perfidiously He has betrayed 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' th' war, but at his nurse's tears He whined and roared away your victory, That pages blushed at him and men of heart Looked wond'ring each at other.


CORIOLANUS. Hear'st thou, Mars?


AUFIDIUS. Name not the god, thou boy of tears.


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 impressed 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 dovecote, I Fluttered 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 PEOPLE Tear 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 in This orb o' th' 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.


[Draw the Conspirators, and kills Martius, who falls. Aufidius stands on him.]


AUFIDIUS. My noble masters, hear me speak.


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' th' chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.— Beat thou the drum that it speak mournfully.— Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he Hath 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 of Martius. A dead march sounded.]


ACT I Scene I. Britain. The garden of Cymbeline's palace. Scene II. The same. Scene III. Britain. A public place. Scene IV. Britain. Cymbeline's palace. Scene V. Rome. Philario's house. Scene VI. Britain. Cymbeline's palace. Scene VII. Britain. The palace.


ACT II Scene I. Britain. Before Cymbeline's palace. Scene II. Britain. Imogen's bedchamber in Cymbeline's palace; a trunk in one corner. Scene III. Cymbeline's palace. An ante-chamber adjoining Imogen's apartments. Scene IV. Rome. Philario's house. Scene V. Rome. Another room in Philario's house.


ACT III Scene I. Britain. A hall in Cymbeline's palace. Scene II. Britain. Another room in Cymbeline's palace. Scene III. Wales. A mountainous country with a cave. Scene IV. Wales, near Milford Haven. Scene V. Britain. Cymbeline's palace. Scene VI. Wales. Before the cave of Belarius. Scene VII. The same. Scene VIII. Rome. A public place.


ACT IV Scene I. Wales. Near the cave of Belarius. Scene II. Wales. Before the cave of Belarius. Scene III. Britain. Cymbeline's palace. Scene IV. Wales. Before the cave of Belarius.


ACT V Scene I. Britain. The Roman camp. Scene II. Britain. A field of battle between the British and Roman camps. Scene III. Another part of the field. Scene IV. Britain. A prison. Scene V. Britain. Cymbeline's tent.


CYMBELINE, King of Britain CLOTEN, son to the Queen by a former husband POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, a gentleman, husband to Imogen BELARIUS, a banished lord, disguised under the name of Morgan GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS, sons to Cymbeline, disguised under the names of POLYDORE and CADWAL, supposed sons to Belarius PHILARIO, Italian, friend to Posthumus IACHIMO, Italian, friend to Philario CAIUS LUCIUS, General of the Roman forces PISANIO, servant to Posthumus CORNELIUS, a physician A SOOTHSAYER A ROMAN CAPTAIN TWO BRITISH CAPTAINS A FRENCH GENTLEMAN, friend to Philario TWO LORDS of Cymbeline's court TWO GENTLEMEN of the same TWO GAOLERS


QUEEN, wife to Cymbeline IMOGEN, daughter to Cymbeline by a former queen HELEN, a lady attending on Imogen


Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, a Dutch Gentleman, a Spanish Gentleman, Musicians, Officers, Captains, Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants


SCENE: Britain; Italy.


SCENE I. Britain. The garden of Cymbeline's palace.


FIRST GENTLEMAN. You do not meet a man but frowns; our bloods No more obey the heavens than our courtiers Still seem as does the King's.


SECOND GENTLEMAN. But what's the matter?


FIRST GENTLEMAN. His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom He purpos'd to his wife's sole son—a widow That late he married—hath referr'd herself Unto a poor but worthy gentleman. She's wedded; Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd. All Is outward sorrow, though I think the King Be touch'd at very heart.


SECOND GENTLEMAN. None but the King?


FIRST GENTLEMAN. He that hath lost her too. So is the Queen, That most desir'd the match. But not a courtier, Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the King's looks, hath a heart that is not Glad at the thing they scowl at.


SECOND GENTLEMAN. And why so?


FIRST GENTLEMAN. He that hath miss'd the Princess is a thing Too bad for bad report; and he that hath her— I mean that married her, alack, good man! And therefore banish'd—is a creature such As, to seek through the regions of the earth For one his like, there would be something failing In him that should compare. I do not think So fair an outward and such stuff within Endows a man but he.


SECOND GENTLEMAN. You speak him far.


FIRST GENTLEMAN. I do extend him, sir, within himself; Crush him together rather than unfold His measure duly.


SECOND GENTLEMAN. What's his name and birth?


FIRST GENTLEMAN. I cannot delve him to the root; his father Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour Against the Romans with Cassibelan, But had his titles by Tenantius, whom He serv'd with glory and admir'd success, So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus; And had, besides this gentleman in question, Two other sons, who, in the wars o' th' time, Died with their swords in hand; for which their father, Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow That he quit being; and his gentle lady, Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd As he was born. The King he takes the babe To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus, Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber, Puts to him all the learnings that his time Could make him the receiver of; which he took, As we do air, fast as 'twas minist'red, And in's spring became a harvest, liv'd in court— Which rare it is to do—most prais'd, most lov'd, A sample to the youngest; to th' more mature A glass that feated them; and to the graver A child that guided dotards. To his mistress, For whom he now is banish'd, her own price Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue; By her election may be truly read What kind of man he is.


SECOND GENTLEMAN. I honour him Even out of your report. But pray you tell me, Is she sole child to th' King?


FIRST GENTLEMAN. His only child. He had two sons—if this be worth your hearing, Mark it—the eldest of them at three years old, I' th' swathing clothes the other, from their nursery Were stol'n; and to this hour no guess in knowledge Which way they went.


SECOND GENTLEMAN. How long is this ago?


FIRST GENTLEMAN. Some twenty years.


SECOND GENTLEMAN. That a king's children should be so convey'd, So slackly guarded, and the search so slow That could not trace them!


FIRST GENTLEMAN. Howsoe'er 'tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, Yet is it true, sir.


FIRST GENTLEMAN. We must forbear; here comes the gentleman, The Queen, and Princess.


SCENE II. The same.


QUEEN. No, be assur'd you shall not find me, daughter, After the slander of most stepmothers, Evil-ey'd unto you. You're my prisoner, but Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, So soon as I can win th' offended King, I will be known your advocate. Marry, yet The fire of rage is in him, and 'twere good You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience Your wisdom may inform you.


POSTHUMUS. Please your Highness, I will from hence today.


QUEEN. You know the peril. I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying The pangs of barr'd affections, though the King Hath charg'd you should not speak together.


IMOGEN. O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband, I something fear my father's wrath, but nothing (Always reserv'd my holy duty) what His rage can do on me. You must be gone; And I shall here abide the hourly shot Of angry eyes, not comforted to live But that there is this jewel in the world That I may see again.


POSTHUMUS. My queen! my mistress! O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause To be suspected of more tenderness Than doth become a man. I will remain The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth; My residence in Rome at one Philario's, Who to my father was a friend, to me Known but by letter; thither write, my queen, And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send, Though ink be made of gall.


QUEEN. Be brief, I pray you. If the King come, I shall incur I know not How much of his displeasure. [Aside.] Yet I'll move him To walk this way. I never do him wrong But he does buy my injuries, to be friends; Pays dear for my offences.


POSTHUMUS. Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!


IMOGEN. Nay, stay a little. Were you but riding forth to air yourself, Such parting were too petty. Look here, love: This diamond was my mother's; take it, heart; But keep it till you woo another wife, When Imogen is dead.


POSTHUMUS. How, how? Another? You gentle gods, give me but this I have, And sear up my embracements from a next With bonds of death! Remain, remain thou here


[Puts on the ring.]


While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest, As I my poor self did exchange for you, To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles I still win of you. For my sake wear this; It is a manacle of love; I'll place it Upon this fairest prisoner.


[Puts a bracelet on her arm.]


IMOGEN. O the gods! When shall we see again?


Enter Cymbeline and Lords.


POSTHUMUS. Alack, the King!


CYMBELINE. Thou basest thing, avoid; hence from my sight If after this command thou fraught the court With thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away! Thou'rt poison to my blood.


POSTHUMUS. The gods protect you, And bless the good remainders of the court! I am gone.


IMOGEN. There cannot be a pinch in death More sharp than this is.


CYMBELINE. O disloyal thing, That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st A year's age on me!


IMOGEN. I beseech you, sir, Harm not yourself with your vexation. I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare Subdues all pangs, all fears.


CYMBELINE. Past grace? obedience?


IMOGEN. Past hope, and in despair; that way past grace.


CYMBELINE. That mightst have had the sole son of my queen!


IMOGEN. O blessed that I might not! I chose an eagle, And did avoid a puttock.


CYMBELINE. Thou took'st a beggar, wouldst have made my throne A seat for baseness.


IMOGEN. No; I rather added A lustre to it.


CYMBELINE. O thou vile one!


IMOGEN. Sir, It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus. You bred him as my playfellow, and he is A man worth any woman; overbuys me Almost the sum he pays.


CYMBELINE. What, art thou mad?


IMOGEN. Almost, sir. Heaven restore me! Would I were A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus Our neighbour shepherd's son!


CYMBELINE. Thou foolish thing! [To the Queen.] They were again together. You have done Not after our command. Away with her, And pen her up.


QUEEN. Beseech your patience. Peace, Dear lady daughter, peace!—Sweet sovereign, Leave us to ourselves, and make yourself some comfort Out of your best advice.


CYMBELINE. Nay, let her languish A drop of blood a day and, being aged, Die of this folly.


[Exit with Lords.]


QUEEN. Fie! you must give way. Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news?


PISANIO. My lord your son drew on my master.


QUEEN. Ha! No harm, I trust, is done?


PISANIO. There might have been, But that my master rather play'd than fought, And had no help of anger; they were parted By gentlemen at hand.


QUEEN. I am very glad on't.


IMOGEN. Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part To draw upon an exile! O brave sir! I would they were in Afric both together; Myself by with a needle, that I might prick The goer-back. Why came you from your master?


PISANIO. On his command. He would not suffer me To bring him to the haven; left these notes Of what commands I should be subject to, When't pleas'd you to employ me.


QUEEN. This hath been Your faithful servant. I dare lay mine honour He will remain so.


PISANIO. I humbly thank your Highness.


IMOGEN. About some half-hour hence, Pray you speak with me. You shall at least go see my lord aboard. For this time leave me.


SCENE III. Britain. A public place.


Enter Cloten and two Lords.


FIRST LORD. Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice. Where air comes out, air comes in; there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent.


CLOTEN. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him?


SECOND LORD. [Aside.] No, faith; not so much as his patience.


FIRST LORD. Hurt him! His body's a passable carcass if he be not hurt. It is a throughfare for steel if it be not hurt.


SECOND LORD. [Aside.] His steel was in debt; it went o' th' backside the town.


CLOTEN. The villain would not stand me.


SECOND LORD. [Aside.] No; but he fled forward still, toward your face.


FIRST LORD. Stand you? You have land enough of your own; but he added to your having, gave you some ground.


SECOND LORD. [Aside.] As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies!


CLOTEN. I would they had not come between us.


SECOND LORD. [Aside.] So would I, till you had measur'd how long a fool you were upon the ground.


CLOTEN. And that she should love this fellow, and refuse me!


SECOND LORD. [Aside.] If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damn'd.


FIRST LORD. Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together; she's a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit.


SECOND LORD. [Aside.] She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection should hurt her.


CLOTEN. Come, I'll to my chamber. Would there had been some hurt done!


SECOND LORD. [Aside.] I wish not so; unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt.


CLOTEN. You'll go with us?


FIRST LORD. I'll attend your lordship.


CLOTEN. Nay, come, let's go together.


SECOND LORD. Well, my lord.


SCENE IV. Britain. Cymbeline's palace.


IMOGEN. I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' th' haven, And questioned'st every sail; if he should write, And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost, As offer'd mercy is. What was the last That he spake to thee?


PISANIO. It was: his queen, his queen!


IMOGEN. Then wav'd his handkerchief?


IMOGEN. Senseless linen, happier therein than I! And that was all?


PISANIO. No, madam; for so long As he could make me with his eye, or ear Distinguish him from others, he did keep The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief, Still waving, as the fits and stirs of's mind Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on, How swift his ship.


IMOGEN. Thou shouldst have made him As little as a crow, or less, ere left To after-eye him.


IMOGEN. I would have broke mine eyestrings, crack'd them but To look upon him, till the diminution Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle; Nay, followed him till he had melted from The smallness of a gnat to air, and then Have turn'd mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio, When shall we hear from him?


PISANIO. Be assur'd, madam, With his next vantage.


IMOGEN. I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say. Ere I could tell him How I would think on him at certain hours Such thoughts and such; or I could make him swear The shes of Italy should not betray Mine interest and his honour; or have charg'd him, At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight, T' encounter me with orisons, for then I am in heaven for him; or ere I could Give him that parting kiss which I had set Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father, And like the tyrannous breathing of the north Shakes all our buds from growing.


LADY. The Queen, madam, Desires your Highness' company.


IMOGEN. Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd. I will attend the Queen.


SCENE V. Rome. Philario's house.


Enter Philario, Iachimo, a Frenchman, a Dutchman and a Spaniard.