Scene IV.

CORIOLANUS.

I

world Hear nought from Rome in private.-Your request? || Than can our reasons.-There is no man in the Vol. 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
And to poor we,
His country's bowels out.
Thine enmity's most capital: thou barr'st us
Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort
That all but we enjoy: For how can we,
Alas! how can we for our country pray,
Whereto we are bound; together with thy victory,
Whereto we are bound? Alack! or we must lose
The country, our dear nurse; or else thy person,
Our comfort in the country. We must find
An evident calamity, though we had

Our wish, which side should win for either thou
Must, as a foreign recreant, be led

With manacles thorough our streets, or else
Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin;
And bear the palm, for having bravely shed
Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son,
not to wait on fortune, till
purpose
These wars determine :2 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.

Vir.

More bound to his mother; yet here he lets me prate
Like one i'the stocks. Thou hast never in thy life
Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy ;
When she (poor hen!) fond of no second brood,
Has cluck'd thee to the wars, and safely home,
Loaden with honour. Say, my request's unjust,
And spurn me back: But, if it be not so,
Thou art not honest; and the gods will plague thee,
That thou restrain'st from me the duty, which
To a mother's part belongs.-He turns away:
Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees.
To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride,
Than pity to our prayers. Down; an end:
This is the last ;-So we will home to Rome,
And die among our neighbours.-Nay, behold us:
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:
This fellow had a Volscian to his mother;
His wife is in Corioli, and his child

Like him by chance:-Yet give us our despatch:
I am hush'd until our city be afire,
And then I'll speak a little.

Cor.

O mother, mother!
[Holding Volumnia by the hands, silent.
What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope,
The gods look down, and this unnatural scene
They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O!
You have won a happy victory to Rome:
But, for your son,-believe it, O, believe it,
Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd,
If not most mortal to him. But, let it come:-
Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars,
I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius,
Ay, and on mine,Were you in my stead, say, would you have heard
A mother less? or granted less, Aufidius?
Auf. I was mov'd withal.
Cor.

That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name
Living to time.

He shall not tread on me ;

Boy.
I'll run away, till I am bigger, but then I'll fight.
Cor. Not of a woman's tenderness to be,
Requires nor child nor woman's face to see.
[Rising.
I have sat too long.
Nay, go not from us thus.
Vol.
If it were so, that our request did tend
To save the Romans, thereby to destroy
The Volces whom you serve, you might condemn us,
As poisonous of your honour: No; our suit
Is, that you reconcile them: while the Volces
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,
That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit
Which thou shalt thereby reap, is such a name,
Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses;
Whose chronicle thus writ,-The man was noble,
But with his last attempt he wip'd it out;
Destroy'd his country; and his name remains
To the ensuing age, abhorr'd. Speak to me, son:
Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour,
To imitate the graces of the gods;

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,
pray you,
I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and
Stand to me in this cause.-O mother! wife!
Auf. I am glad, thou hast set thy mercy and thy
honour

[Aside. [The Ladies make signs to Coriolanus. Ay, by and by;

At difference in thee: out of that I'll work
Myself a former fortune.

Cor.
[To Volumnia, Virgilia, &c.
But we will drink together; and you shall bear
On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd.
A better witness back than words, which we,
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.

SCENE IV-Rome.

[Exeunt.

A public place. Enter Menenius and Sicinius.

Men. See you yond' coign1 o'the Capitol: yond' corner-stone?

Sic. Why, what of that?

To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o'the air,
Men. If it be possible for you to displace it with
And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt
That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak?
your little finger, there is some hope the ladies of
Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man
Still to remember wrongs?-Daughter, speak you: Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him.
He cares not for your weeping.-Speak thou, boy:But I say, there is no hope in't; our throats are
sentenced, and stay upon execution.
Perhaps, thy childishness will move him more

(1) Betray. (2) Conclude. (3) The refinements.

(4) Angle.

(5) Stay but for it.

!

Sic. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter|| the condition of a man?

Men. There is differency between a grub, and a butterfly; yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown from man to dragon: he has wings; he's more than a creeping thing.

Sic. He loved his mother dearly.

Men. 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.

Sic. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly.
Men. 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.

Sic. The gods be good unto us!

Men. No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us. When we banished him, we respected not them: and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. 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.

Enter another Messenger.

Sic.
What's the news?
Mess. Good news, good news ;-The ladies have
prevail'd;

The Volces are dislodg'd, and Marcius gone:
A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,
No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins.

Sic.
Friend,
Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain?
Mess. As certain as I know the sun is fire:
Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it?
Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide,
As the recomforted through the gates. Why, hark

you;

[Trumpets and hautboys sounded, and drums
beaten, all together. Shouting also within.
The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes,
Tabors, and cymbals, and the shouting Romans,
Make the sun dance. Hark you!

[Shouting again.
Men.
This is good news:
I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia
Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians,
A city full; of tribunes, such as you,

A sea and land full: You have pray'd well to-day;
This morning, for ten thousand of your throats
I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy!
[Shouting and music.
Sic. First, the gods bless you for their tidings:

next,

Accept my thankfulness.
Mess.

Sir, we have all
Great cause to give great thanks.
Sic.
They are near the city?

Enter the Ladies, accompanied by Senators, Patricians, and People. They pass over the stage.

1 Sen. Behold our patroness, the life of Rome:
Call all your tribes together, praise the gods,
And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before
them :

Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius,
Repeal him with the welcome of his mother;
Cry,-Welcome, ladies, welcome!—
All.

Welcome, ladies! Welcome! [A flourish with drums and trumpets. [Exeunt.

SCENE V-Antium. A public place. Enter
Tullus Aufidius, with Attendants.
Auf. Go tell the lords of the city, I am here:
Deliver them this paper: having read it,
Bid them repair to the market-place; where I,
Even in theirs and in the commons' ears,
Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse,
The city-ports by this hath enter'd, and
Intends to appear before the people, hoping
To purge himself with words: Despatch.

[Exeunt Attendants.

Auf.

Sir, I cannot tell;

We must proceed, as we do find the people.

3 Con. The people will remain uncertain, whilst
'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either
Makes the survivor heir of all.
Auf.
I know it;
And my pretext to strike at him adınits
A good construction. I rais'd him, and I pawn'd
Mine honour for his truth: Who being so heighten'd,
He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery,
Seducing so my friends: and, to this end,
He bow'd his nature, never known before
But to be rough, unswayable, and free.
3 Con. Sir, his stoutness,
When he did stand for consul, which he lost
By lack of stooping,-
Auf.
That I would have spoke of:
Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth;
Presented to my knife his throat: I took him;
Made him joint servant with me; gave him way
In all his own desires; nay, let him choose
Out of my files, his projects to accomplish,
My best and freshest men; serv'd his designments
In mine own person; holps to reap the fame,
Which he did end all his; and took some pride
To do myself this wrong: till, at the last,
I seem'd his follower, not partner; and
He wag'd me with his countenance, as if
I had been mercenary.
1 Con.
So he did, my lord:
The army marvell'd at it. And, in the last,
When he had carried Rome; and that we look'd

(6) Thought me rewarded with good looks.

Why, noble lords, Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, it.'Fore your own eyes and ears?

[Several speak at once. Cit. [Speaking promiscuously.] Tear him to pieces, do it presently. He killed my son ;-my daughter;-He killed my cousin Marcus;-He killed my father.--

2 Lord. Peace, ho;-no outrage--peace. a This orb o'the earth. His last offence to us The man is noble, and his fame folds in Shall have judicious hearing.-Stand, Aufidius, And trouble not the peace.

2 Cit. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday, to see Cæsar, and to rejoice in his triumph.

Mar. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home?

What tributaries follow him to Rome,

HENCE; home, you idle creatures, get you To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?

2 Cit. Truly, sir, all that I live by is, with the awl: I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, sir,|| a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. [Exe. Cit. danger, I re-cover them. As proper men as ever See, whe'r? their basest metal be not mov'd; trod upon neat's-leather, have gone upon my handy-They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness.