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.
Has he dined, canst thou tell? for I would
not speak with him till after dinner.
First Guard.
You are a Roman, are you?
Menenius.
I am, as thy general is.
First Guard.
Then you should hate Rome, as he does. Can
you, when you have pushed out your gates the
ignorance, given your enemy your shield, think
very defender of them, and, in a violent popular
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
SCENE II. The Volscian Camp before Rome. dotant as you seem to be? Can you think to
The Guards at their Stations.
I tell thee, fellow,
Thy general is my lover: I have been
The book of his good acts, whence men have
[read
His fame unparallel'd, haply, amplified;
For I have ever verified my friends,
(Of whom he's chief) with all the size that verity
Would without lapsing suffer: nay, sometimes,
Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground,
I have tumbled past the throw, and in his praise
Have almost stamp'd the leasing. Therefore,
[fellow,
I must have leave to pass.
'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.
Pr'ythee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius, always factionary on the party of your general.
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.
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.
Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here, he would use me with estimation.
Come, my captain knows you not.
Now, you companion, I'll say an errand for you: you shall know now that I am in estimacannot office me from my son Coriolanus: guess, tion; you shall perceive that a Jack guardant but by my entertainment with him, if thou stand'st not i' the state of hanging, or of some death more long in spectatorship, and crueller in suffering: behold now presently, and swoon for what's to come upon thee.-The glorious gods sit in hourly synod about thy particular O, my son! my son! prosperity, and love thee no worse than thy old father Menenius does! 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 Coriolanus. block, hath denied my access to thee.
Your gates against my force. Yet, for I lov'd Wherein this trunk was fram'd, and in her hand thee, Take this along; I writ it for thy sake,
And would have sent it. nius,
[Gives a paper. Another word, Mene
The grand-child to her blood. But, out, affecAll bond and privilege of nature, break! [tion Let it be virtuous, to be obstinate.- Leyes What is that curt'sy worth? or those doves Which can make gods forsworn?—I melt, and
I will not hear thee speak. This man, Aufidius,
Was my belov'd in Rome; yet thou behold'st-Of stronger earth than others. My mother
As if Olympus to a molehill should [bows
In supplication nod; and my young boy
You keep a constant tenus and Aufidius. Great mature cries, "Deny not."-Let the
Hath an aspect of intercession, which [Volsces
Now, sir, is your name Menenius ?
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,
'Tis a spell, you see, of much power. You And knew no other kin. know the way home again.
My lord and husband Coriolanus.
These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome Virgilia.
The sorrow, that delivers us thus chang'd, 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
Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge!
For that," Forgive our Romans."-O! a kiss
Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss
I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip
Hath virgin'd it e'er since.-You gods! I prate,
And the most noble mother of the world
The worthy fellow is our general: he is the Leave unsaluted. Sink, my knee, i' the earth; rock, the oak not to be wind-shaken.
This last old man, Whom with a crack'd heart I have sent to Rome, Loved me above the measure of a father; Nay, godded me, indeed. Their latest refuge Was to send him; for whose old love I have (Though I show'd sourly to him) once more offer'd
The first conditions, which they did refuse,
And cannot now accept, to grace him only
That thought he could do more. A very little
I have yielded, too: fresh embassies, and suits,
Nor from the state, nor private friends, hereafter
Will I lend car to. Ha! what shout is this?
[Shout within.
Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow
In the same time 'tis made? I will not.-
Enter, in mourning Habits, l'irgilia, Volumnia, leading young Marcius, Valeria, and Attend
Your knees to me? to your corrected son?
Then, let the pebbles on the hungry beach
Fillip the stars; then, let the mutinous winds
Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun,
Murd'ring 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 curded by the frost from purest snow,
And hangs on Dian's temple: dear Valerial
Volumnia.
This is a poor epitome of yours,
Which, by the interpretation of full time,
May show like all yourself.
Coriolanus.
The god of soldiers,
With the consent of supreme Jove, inform
Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou may'st
To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' the wars My wife comes foremost; then, the honour'd Like a great sea-mark, standing every daw, mould
And saving those that eye thee ! Volumnia.
Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself,
Are suitors to you.
I beseech you, peace;
Or, if you'd ask, remember this before:
The things I have forsworn to grant may never
Be held by you denials. Do not bid me
Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate
Again with Rome's mechanics: tell me not
Wherein I seem unnatural: desire not
To allay my rages and revenges, with
Your colder reasons.
You have said, you will not grant us any thing;
O! no more, no more!
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 [us.
May hang upon your hardness. Therefore, hear
Coriolanus.
Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark; for we'll
Hear nought from Rome in private.-Your re-
quest?
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 thy-
self,
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
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
That brought thee to this world. [womb,
That brought you forth this boy, to keep your
Ay, and mine,
Living to time.
[name
Boy.
He shall not tread on me:
I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I'll fight.
Not of a woman's tenderness to be, Requires nor child nor woman's face to see. I have sat too long.
If it were so, that our request did tend
To save the Romans, thereby to destroy
The Volsces whom you serve, you might con-
demn us,
Nay, go not from us thus.
As poisonous of your honour: no; our suit
Is, that you reconcile them: while the Volsces
May say, "This mercy we have show'd;" the
Romans,
"This we receiv'd;" and each in either side
Give the all-hail to thee, and cry," Be bless'd
For making up this peace!" Thou know'st,
great son,
The end of war's uncertain; but this certain,
Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses,
That if thou conquer Rome, the benefit
Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name,
Whose chronicle thus writ,-"The man was
But with his last attempt he wip'd it out,
noble,
Destroy'd his country, and his name remains
To the ensuing age abhorr'd." Speak to me,
son!
To imitate the graces of the gods;
Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour,
To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' the air,
That should but rive an oak. Why dost not
And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt
Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man
speak?
Still to remember wrongs?-Daughter, speak
He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou,
you;
boy :
Perhaps, thy childishness will move him more
Than can our reasons.-There is no man in the
world
More bound to's mother; yet here he lets me
prate
Like one i' the stocks.-Thou hast never in thy
Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy ;
When she, (poor hen !) fond of no second brood,
[life
Has cluck'd thee to the wars, and safely home,
Loaden with honour. Say, my request's unjust,
Thou art not honest, and the gods will plague
And spurn me back; but, if it be not so,
thee,
To a mother's part belongs.-He turns away:
That thou restrain'st from me the duty, which
Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees.
Than pity to our prayers. Down: an end;
To his surname, Coriolanus, 'longs more pride,
This is the last;-so we will home to Rome,
And die among our neighbours.-Nay, behold
But kneels and holds up hands for fellowship,
This boy, that cannot tell what he would have,
Than thou hast to deny't.- Come, let us go.
Does reason our petition with more strength
This fellow had a Volscian to his mother;
His wife is in Coriolt, and his child
I am hush'd until our city be afire,
Like him by chance.-Yet give us our despatch:
And then I'll speak a little.
[He holds Volumnia by the hand, silent.
Coriolanus.
What have you done? Behold! the heavens do
O mother, mother!
ope,
They laugh at. O my mother! mother! O!
The gods look down, and this unnatural scene
|