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What's the matter?
You dissentious rogues.
That rubbing the poor itch of your opinion
make yourself scabs?
He that will give good words to thee will flatter
beneath abhorring.
He that trust to you where he should find you lions
finds you hares, where foxes, geese,
you are no surer, no, than is the coil of fire upon the ice
or hailstone in the sun.
Who deserves greatness deserves your hate.
Trust ye?
With every minute you do change a mind
and call him noble that was now your hate.
Him vile that was your garland.
What's the matter?
That in these several places of the city you cry against
the noble Senate who under the gods keep you in awe.
Which else would feed on one another?
So you all resolved rather to die than to famish?
Resolved, we are accounted poor citizens,
the patricians good, what authority surfeits on
would relieve us, if they would yield us
but their superfluity, while it were wholesome,
we might guess they relieved us humanely,
but they think we are too dear.
The leanness that afflicts us, the object of our misery
is as a reminder to them of their abundance.
Our sufferance is a gain to them.
Let us revenge this with our pikes ere we become rakes.
For the gods know I speak this in hunger for bread,
not in thirst for revenge.
Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcius?
Against him first,
he's a very dog to the common people.
Consider you what services he has done for his country?
Very well, and could be content to give him
good report for't, but that he pays himself...
Nay, but speak not maliciously.
For being proud, I saying unto you,
what he has done famously, he did it to that end.
Those soft conscienced men could be content to say
he did it for his country, , he did it
to please his mother and to be partly proud, which he is
even to the altitude of his virtue!
What he cannot help in his nature,
you account a vice in him.
You must in no way say he is covetous.
He hath faults with surplus to tire in repetition.
Our business is not unknown to the Senate.
They have had inkling this fortnight
what we intend to do which now will show 'em in deeds.
They say poor suitors have strong breaths.
They shall know we have strong arms too.
Why masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbors.
Why go you with bats and clubs, will you undo yourselves?
We cannot, sir, we are undone already.
I tell you friends, most charitable care
have the patricians of you, for the dearth,
the gods, not the patricians make it
and your knees to them, not arms must help,
alack, you are transported by calamity thither
where more attends you and you slander the helms
of the state who care for you like fathers.
When you curse them as enemies. Care for us! True indeed,
they ne'er cared for us yet,
suffer us to famish while their storehouse is crammed
with grain, if the wars eat us not up, they will.
That's all the love they bear us.
Either you must confess yourselves wondrous malicious,
or be accused of folly.
I will tell you a pretty tale, maybe you have heard it
but since it serves my purpose I will venture
to stale it a little more.
Well, I'll hear it, sir. You must not think
to fob off our disgrace with a tale.
There was a time when all the body's members
rebelled against the belly, thus accused it.
That only like a gulf it did remain in the midst
o' the body, idle and unactive, still cupboarding
the food, never bearing like labor with the rest,
while the other instruments did see and hear,
devise, instruct, walk, feel and mutually participate,
did minister unto the appetite and affection common
of the whole body.
And so the belly answered,
Well, sir, what answer made the belly?
Sir, I will tell you with a kind of smile
for look you, I may make the belly smile as well as speak.
Your belly's answer? What?
Sir, I will tell you if you'll bestow a small What could the belly answer?
of what you have little patience a while.
You're long about it.
Note me this, good friend, your most grave belly
was deliberate, not rash, like his accusers
and thus answered.
'True is it, my incorporate friends, ' quoth he,
'That I receive the general food at first
which you do live upon and fit it is because I am
the storehouse and shop of the whole body,
but if you do remember, I send it through the rivers
of your blood, even to the court, the heart,
the seat of the brain? Aye sir.
Well, well?
Though all at once cannot see what I do deliver out
to each, I can make my audit up that all from me do back
receive the flour of all and leave me but the chap,
what say you to it? It was an answer.
How apply you this?
The senators of Rome are this good belly
and you the mutinous members, for examine their councils
and their cares, digest things rightly, touching the weal
of the common, and you shall find no public benefit
which you receive but it proceeds or comes from them
to you and no way from yourselves, what think you,
you the great toe of this assembly?
I the great toe.
Why the great toe?
Well that being the lowest, basest, poorest
of this most wise rebellion, thou goest foremost.
What's their seeking?
Corn at their own rates, whereof they say
the city is well stored.
Hang 'em.
They say.
They'll sit by the fire and presume to know
what's done in the capitol, who's like to rise,
who thrives and who declines.
They say there's grain enough.
Would the nobility lay aside their ruth
and let me use my sword, I'll make a quarry
with thousands of these quartered slaves
as high as I can pick my lance.
Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded,
for though abundantly they lack discretion,
yet are they passing cowardly,
but I beseech you, what says the other troop?
They said they were an hungry, sighed forth proverbs
that hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat,
that meat was made for mouths,
that the gods sent not corn for the rich man only,
with these shreds, they vented their complainings
which being answered and a petition granted them,
they threw their cats as they would hang them
on the horns of the moon, shouting their emulation.
And what is granted them?
Two tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms
of their own choice, Junius Brutus and Sicinius Velutus,
'Sdeath.
The rabbles should have first unroofed the city
ere so prevailed with me.
It will in time win upon power and throw forth
greater themes for insurrection's arguing.
Marcius! This is strange.
'Tis true that you have lately told us,
the Volsces are in arms.
They have a leader!
Tullus Aufidius that will put you to it.
I sin in envying his nobility.
And were I anything but what I am,
I would wish me only he. You fought together?
Were half to half the world by the ears
and he upon my party, I'd revolt
to make my wars only with him.
He is a lion that I am proud to hunt.
Then worthy Marcius, attend upon Cominius
to these wars.
It is your former promise. Sir, it is.
And I am constant.
Your company to the capitol, where I know our greatest
friends attend us, noble Marcius.
Lead you on. Ah, the Volsces
have much corn, take these rats thither to gnaw
their garners, worshipful mutineers, your valor
puts well forth, pray, follow.
Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius?
He has no equal.
When we were chosen tribunes for the people...
Marked you his lip and eyes?
Nay. But his taunts.
Being moved, he will not spare to gird the gods.
Be-mock the modest moon.
The present wars devour him.
But I do wonder his insolence can brook
to be commanded under Cominius.
Fame, at the which he aims in whom already
he's well graced cannot be better held
nor more attained than by a place below the first.
For what miscarries shall be the general's fault,
though he performs to the utmost of a man
and giddy censure will then cry out of Marcius,
oh, if he had borne the business.
And if things go well, opinion that so sticks on Marcius
shall of his great merits rob Cominius.
Let's hence and hear how the dispatch is made
and in what fashion more than his singularity
he goes upon this present action.
Let's along.
So your opinion is, Aufidius,
that they of Rome are entered in our councils
and know how we proceed.
Is it not yours?
What ever have been thought on in this state
that could be brought to bodily act ere Rome
had circumvention? 'Tis not four days gone
since I heard from thence, these are the words.
'They have pressed a power, but it is not known whether
for east or west.
The dearth is great, the people mutinous
and it is rumored Cominius,
Marcius, your old enemy, who is of Rome,
worse hated than of you, these two lead on this preparation
whither 'tis bent, most likely tis for you.'
Consider of it.
Our army's in the field, we never yet made doubt
but Rome was ready to answer us.
Nor did you think it folly to keep your great pretenses
veiled till when they needs must show themselves
which in the hatching it seemed appeared to Rome.
By the discovery, we shall be shortened in our aim
which was to take in many towns ere almost Rome
should know we were afoot.
Noble Aufidius, take your commission.
Hie you to your bands.
Let us alone to guard Corioles.
If they should set down before us,
for the remove bring your army,
but I think you'll find they've not prepared for us.
Oh, doubt not that, I speak from certainties.
Nay, more, some parcels of their power are forth already
and only hitherward.
I leave your honors.
If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet,
'tis sworn between us we shall ever strike
til one can do no more.
Gods assist you.
And keep your honors safe.
I pray you, daughter,
sing.
Or express yourself at a more comfortable sort.
If my son were my husband,
I should freelier rejoice in that absence
wherein he won honor than in the embracements of his bed
where he would show most love.
When yet he was but tender bodied
and the only son of my womb,
when youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way,
when for a day of kings and treaties,
a mother should not sell him an hour from her beholding,
I considering how honor would become such a person,
was pleased to let him seek danger where he was like
to find fame.
To a cruel war I sent him from whence he returned,
his brows bound with oak.
I tell thee daughter, I sprang not more in joy at first hearing
he was a man-child than now in first seeing
he had proved himself a man.
But had he died in the business, madam, how then?
Then his good report should have been my son.
I therein would have found issue.
Hear me profess, sincerely,
had I a dozen sons
each in my love alike and none less dear than thine
and my good Marcius, I'd rather have 11 die nobly
for their country than one voluptuously surfeit
out of action.
Madam, the lady Valeria is come to visit you.
Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself
Indeed you shall not.
Tell Valeria we are fit to bid her welcome.
Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum.
See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair.
Methinks I see him stamp thus and call thus,
come on, you cowards, you were got in fear
though you were born in Rome.
His bloody brow.
His bloody brow!
With his gloved hand then wiping forth he goes.
Like to a harvest man that's tasked to mow
or all or lose his hire.
Oh, Jupiter, no blood!
Away, you fool!
It more becomes a man than guilt his trophy.
Heavens bless my Lord from fell Aufidius.
He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee
and tread upon his neck.
My ladies both!
Good day to you.
Sweet madam!
I am glad to see your ladyship.
How do you both?
You are manifest housekeepers, what are you sewing here?
Ah, a fine spot, in good faith.
How does your little son?
I thank your ladyship, well, good madam.
He'd rather see the swords and hear a drum
than look upon his school-master.
On my word, the father's son,
I'll swear 'tis a very pretty boy.
O' my troth, I looked upon him Wednesday
half an hour together, such a confirmed countenance.
I saw him run after a gilded butterfly
and when he caught it, he let it go again
and after it again and over and over he falls
and up again catched it again.
Whether his fall enraged him or how it 'twas,
he did so set his teeth and tear it, oof!
I warranted how he mammocked it!
One on's father's moods.
Indeed, la, tis a noble child.
A crack, madam.
Come, lay aside your stitchery, I must have you play
the idle housewife with me this afternoon.
No, good madam, I will not out of doors.
Not out of doors! - She shall, she shall!
Indeed no, by your patience, I'll not over the threshold
till my Lord return from the wars.
Fa, you confine yourself most unreasonably.
- I cannot go thither.
You would be another Penelope?
Yet they say all the yarn she spun in Ulysses's absence
did but fill Ithaca full of moths.
Come, you should go with us.
No!
Pardon me, indeed I will not forth.
In truth, la, go with me and I'll tell you excellent news
of your husband.
Oh, good madam, there can be none yet.
Verily, I do not jest with you.
There came news from him last night.
Indeed, madam? In earnest, it's true.
I heard a Senator speak it.
Thus it is, the Volsces have an army forth
against whom Cominius the general is gone
and your Lord is set down before their city,
Corioles, they nothing doubt prevailing
and to make it brief wars, this is true on mine honor
and so I pray, go with us.
Give me excuse, good madam, I will obey you
in everything hereafter.
Well, let her alone, lady, as she is now,
she will but disease our better mirth.
Come, good sweet lady.
Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out of doors
and go along with us.
No.
At a word, madam, indeed, I must not.
Shh.
I wish you much mirth.
Fare thee well, then.
I'll fight with none but thee
for I do hate thee worse than a promise breaker.
We hate alike.
Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor more than thy fame
and envy, fix thy foot.
If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work,
thould'st not believe thy deeds,
but I'll report it,
where senators shall mingle tears with smiles,
where great patricians shall attend and shrug,
in the end admire, off.
When ladies shall be frighted and gladly quaked, hear more.
Where the dull tribunes that with the fusty plebeians
hate thine honors shall say against their hearts
we thank the gods Rome hath such a soldier.
Pray now, no more!
My mother, who has a charter to extol her blood,
when she dost praise me, grieves me.
I have done as you have done, that's what I can,
induced as you have been, that's for my country.
You shall not be the grave of your deserving.
Rome must know the value of her own.
I have some wounds upon me and they smart
to hear themselves remembered.
Well, should they not, well might they fester
'gainst ingratitude and tent themselves with death.
Of all the treasure in the field achieved and city,
we render you a tenth.
I thank you, General, but cannot make my heart consent
to take a bribe to pay my sword.
I do refuse it and stand upon my common part
with those that have beheld the doing.
No more, I say, for that I have not washed my nose that bled
or foiled some feeble wretch which without note
here's many else have done.
You shout me forth in acclamations,
hyperbolical, as if I loved my little should be dieted
in praises sauced with lies.
Too modest are you.
Therefore be it known, as to us to all the world
that Caius Marcus wears this war's garland
and from this time for what he did before and in
Corioles, call him, with all the applause and clamor
of the host, Caius Marcus Coriolanus!
Caius Marcus Coriolanus!
I will go wash, and when my face is fair,
you shall perceive whether I blush or no.
Howbeit, I thank you.
The gods begin to mock me,
sir,
I that now refused most princely gifts
am bound to beg of my Lord general.
Take it, tis yours, what is't?
I sometimes lay here in Coriolis at a poor man's house.
He used me kindly, he cried to me, I saw him prisoner
but then Aufidius was within my view
and wrath overwhelmed my pity.
I request that you give my poor host freedom.
Well begged, were he the butcher of my son,
he should be as free as is the wind, his name?
By Jupiter, forgot.
Easy.
I am weary, yea, my memory is tired.
Easy, easy.
Hey, hey.
The blood upon your visage dries, huh?
'Tis time it should be looked to, come.
Easy, easy, easy, easy.
The town is ta'en.
'Twill be delivered back on good condition.
Condition!
I would I were a Roman, for I cannot, being a Volscian,
be that I am, condition!
What good condition can a treaty find
I' the part that is at mercy?
Five times, Marcius, I have fought with thee,
so often has thou beat me and wouldst do so again,
I think should we encounter as often as we eat.
By the elements,
if ere again I meet him beard to beard,
he's mine or I am his.
Mine emulation hath not that honor in't it had
for where I thought to crush him in an equal force,
true sword to sword,
I'll potch at him some way or wrath or craft may get him.
He's the devil. Bolder.
Though not so subtle.
My valor's poisoned with only suffering stained by him.
Where ere I meet him, were it at home, upon my brother's
guard, even there against the hospitable canon,
will I wash my fierce head in his heart.
Go you to the city and learn how 'tis held.
And what they are that must be hostages for Rome.
If you're going to Washington to meet...
...huge win in the governor's race, at least 13...
Something's bothering you,
and I thought it must be Blake...
Well, the augurer tells me
we shall have news tonight.
Good or bad?
Well, not according to the prayers of the people
for they love not Marcius.
Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.
Pray you, who does the wolf love?
The lamb.
Aye, to devour him, as the hungry plebeians would
the noble Marcius.
Oh, he's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear.
He's a bear indeed that lives like a lamb.
Tell me, one thing that I shall ask you.
Well, sir? - Well, sir?
In what enormity is Marcius poor in
that you two have not in abundance?
He's poor in no one fault but stored with all.
Especially in pride.
And topping all others in boasting.
Well, this is strange now.
Do you two know how you are censured here in the city?
I mean, of us of the right hand file, do you?
Why, how are we censured? - How are we censured?
Because you talk of pride now.
Will you not be angry?
Well, sir, well well well.
You blame Marcius for being proud.
We do it not alone, sir.
I know, you can do very little alone.
And your abilities are too infant like
for doing much alone,
oh, you talk of pride, oh that you could turn your eyes
towards the napes of your neck and make but an interior
survey of your good selves, oh, that you could.
What then, sir?
Why, then, you should discover a brace of unmeriting,
proud, violent, testy magistrates, alias fools,
as any in Rome.
Menenius, you are known well enough too.
As I am known to be a humorous patrician.
One that likes a cup of hot wine without a drop
of allaying water in it, one that converses more
with the buttock of the night than the forehead
of the morning, what I think I utter and I spend my malice
in my breath, and though I must be content
to bear with those that say you are reverend grave
gentlemen, yet they lie deadly that tell you have good faces.
Oh come, sir, come, we know you well enough.
You know neither me, yourselves, nor anything.
Oh, come, come, you are well known to be
a perfect giber for the table than a necessary bencher
in the capitol.
Oh, you are a pair of strange ones, yet you must
be saying Marcius is proud when a cheap estimation
is worth all your predecessors since Deucalion,
the best of them, hereditary hangmans,
good e'en to your worships, more of your conversation
would infect my brain being the herdsmen
of the beastly plebeians.
I will be bold to take my leave of you.
Honorable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches,
for the love of Juno, let's go!
Ha, Marcius coming home?
Aye, worthy Menenius and with most prosperous approbation.
Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank you,
oh, Marcius coming home.
Nay, 'tis true.
I will make my very house reel tonight.
Is he wounded?
He was wont to come home wounded.
Oh, no, no, no.
Oh, he is wounded, I thank the gods for it.
So do I too, but be not too much,
brings a victory in his pocket, the wounds become him.
On his brows, Menenius, he comes the third time home
with the oaken garland.
Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly?
They fought together, but Aufidius got off.
Is the Senate possessed of this?
Good ladies, let's go, yes, yes, yes,
the Senate has letters from the general wherein he gives
my son the whole name of the war.
He hath in this action outdone his former deeds doubly.
In truth, there's wondrous things spoke of him.
Ay Wondrous, I warrant you, and not without
his true purchasing.
The gods grant them true!
True!
True, I'll be sworn they are true, where is he wounded?
In the shoulder of the left arm.
There will be large cicatrices to show the people
when he shall stand for his place!
He received in the repulse of Tarquin
seven hurts I' the body.
Well, there's one in the neck, two in the thigh,
there's nine that I know of.
He had before this last expedition 25 wounds upon him.
And now there's 27 and every gash was an enemy's grave.
God save you, good worships, Marcius is coming home.
He has more cause to be proud.
These are the ushers of Marcius.
Before him he carries noise and behind him he leaves tears,
death, that dark spirit, its nervy arm doth lie
which being advanced, declines and then men die.
No more of this, it does offend my heart,
pray thou, no more!
Look sir, your mother.
Oh, you have, I know petitioned all the gods
for my prosperity.
My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and thy deed
achieving honor newly named, what is it?
Coriolanus.
Coriolanus must I call thee!
But oh, thy wife!
My gracious silence, hail.
Wouldst thou have laughed had I come coffin'd home,
that weeps to see me triumph?
Aye, my dear, such eyes the widows in Corioles wear
and mothers that lack sons.
Now the gods crown thee and live you yet.
Oh, my sweet lady, pardon.
I know not where to turn!
Oh, welcome home!
And welcome General
and you're welcome all!
A hundred thousand welcomes, I could weep and I could laugh,
I am light and heavy but well, we have some old
crab trees here at home that will not be grafted
to your relish, but welcome, warriors.
We call a nettle but a nettle
and the faults of fools but folly.
Ever right, Menenius, ever right.
Your hand and yours.
Ere in our own house I do shade my head,
the good patricians must be visited.
From whom I have received not only greetings
but with them change of honors.
On to the Capitol!
I have lived to see inherited my very wishes
and the buildings of my fancy.
Only there's one thing wanting which I doubt not
but our Rome will cast upon thee.
Know, good mother, I had rather be their servant in my way
than sway with them in theirs.
All tongues speak of him.
And the bleared sights are spectacled to see him.
Your prattling nurse into a rapture lets her baby cry
while she chats him.
The kitchen malkin pins her richest lockram
'bout her reechy neck, clambering the walls to eye him.
All agreeing in earnestness to see him.
Such a pother, as if that whosoever God
who leads him were slyly crept into his human power
and gave him graceful postures.
On the sudden, I warrant him consul.
Then our office may during his power go sleep.
He cannot temperately transport his honors
from where he should begin and end but will
lose those he hath won.
In that there's comfort. - Doubt not.
I heard him swear, were he to stand for consul,
never would he appear in the marketplace nor showing
as the manner is, his wounds to the people.
Beg their stinking breaths. - Tis right.
- It was his word. - I wish no better
than have him hold that purpose and to put it in execution.
Tis most like he will.
It shall be to him then as our good wills
a sure destruction.
So.
It must fall out to him or our authority for an end.
We must suggest the people what kind of hatred
he still hath held him, that to his power he would have
made them mules, silenced their pleaders
and dispropertied their freedoms.
This as you say
suggested at some time
when his soaring insolence shall touch the people,
which time shall not want if he be put upon it
and that's as easy as to set dogs on sheep
will be as fire to kindle their dry stubble
and their blaze shall darken him forever.
What's the matter?
You are sent for to the capitol.
'Tis thought that Marcius shall be consul.
Come, come,
they are almost here.
How many stand for consulship?
Three, they say,
but 'tis thought of everyone Coriolanus will carry it.
That's a brave fellow, but he's vengeance proud
and loves not the common people.
Faith.
There had been many great men that had flattered the people
who ne'er loved them.
And there be many that they have loved,
they know not wherefore so that if they love,
they know not why.
They hate upon no better a ground.
Therefore, for Coriolanus neither to care
whether they love or hate him,
manifest the true knowledge he has in their disposition
and out of his noble carelessness
lets them plainly see it.
But he seeks their hate with a greater devotion
than they can render it him.
Now to seem to affect the malice and displeasure
of the people is as bad as that which he dislikes,
to flatter them for their love.
He hath deserved worthily of his country,
to report otherwise were a malice.
No more of him, he is a worthy man.
Make way, they are coming.
No.
Having determined of the Volsces,
it remains as the main point in this our after-meeting
to gratify his noble services that are thus stood
for our country, therefore, please you most reverend
and grave elders, to desire the present consul
and last general in our well-found successes
to report a little of that worthy work
performed by Caius Marcus Coriolanus
whom we have met here both to thank and remember
with honors like himself.
Masters o' the people, we do request your kindest ears
and after your loving motion towards the common people
to yield what passes here, speak, good Cominius.
We have hearts inclinable to honor
and advance the theme of our assembly.
Which the rather we shall be blest to do
if he remember a kinder value of the people
than he hath hereto prized them at.
That's off, that's off, I would you rather
to have been silent, please you to hear Cominius speak?
Most willingly but yet my caution was more pertinent
than the rebuke you give it.
He loves your people, but tie him not to be their bedfellow.
Speak, worthy Cominius.
Sit, Coriolanus, never shame to hear
what you have nobly done.
Your honor's pardon, I'd rather have my wounds
to heal again than hear say how I got them.
Sir, I hope my words disbenched you not.
No sir, yet oft when blows have made me stay,
I fled from words, you flatter not, therefore hurt not,
but for your people, I love them as they weigh.
Pray you sit down. - I'd rather have one
scratch my head in the sun when the alarum were struck
than idly sit to hear my nothings monster'd.
Proceed, Cominius.
Whoo.
I shall lack voice.
The deeds of Coriolanus should not be uttered feebly.
It is held that valor is the chiefest virtue
and most dignifies the haver.
If it be, the man I speak of cannot in the world
be singly counterpoised.
At 16 years, he fought beyond the marks of others.
In that day's feat when he might act the woman
in the scene, he proved best man in the field.
Seriously?
His pupil age man entered thus.
He waxed like a sea,
and in the brunt of seventeen battles since,
he lurched all swords of the garland.
For this last, before and in Corioles,
let me say, well,
I cannot speak him home.
He stopped the fliers and by his rare example
made the coward turn terror into sport
as weeds before a vessel under sail,
so men obeyed and fell below his stem.
From face to foot he was a thing of blood.
Whose every motion was timed with dying cries,
alone, he entered the mortal gate of the city
and with a sudden reinforcement struck Corioles
like a planet and til we called both city and field ours
he never stood to ease his breath with panting.
Worthy man!
He cannot but with measure fit the honors
which we devise him.
Our spoils he kicked at, looked upon things precious
as if they were the common muck of the world.
He covets less than misery itself would give.
Rewards his deeds with doing them and is content
to spend the time to end it.
The Senate, Coriolanus,
are well pleased to name thee consul!
I do beseech you, let me overleap this custom.
Oh, sir, you are not right, have you not known
the worthiest men have done it.
What must I say?
I pray, sir, plague upon it, I cannot bring my tongue
to such a pace.
Look, sir, my wounds,
I got them in my country's service
when some certain of your brethren roared
and ran from the noise of her own drums.
Oh me, the gods, you must not speak of that.
You must desire them to think upon you.
Think upon me?
Hang 'em, I would they would forget me.
You'll mar all, I'll leave you, I pray you,
speak with them, I pray you in wholesome manner.
Bid them wash their faces and keep their teeth clean.
You know, sir, the cause of my standing here.
I do, sir.
Tell me what hath brought you to it.
My own deserving.
Your own deserving?
Aye, but not my own desire.
How not your own desire?
No sir, twas never my desire yet
to trouble the... poor with begging.
You must think if I give you anything,
I hope to gain by you.
Well, then, I pray your price o' the consulship?
The price is to ask it kindly.
Kindly? Mmhmm.
I pray, sir, let me have it.
I have wounds to show you what shall be yours in private,
your good voice, sir, what say you?
You shall have it, worthy sir.
A match. There's in all two worthy voices begged.
I have your alms, adieu.
But this is something odd.
Better it is to die,
better to starve
than crave the hire which first we do deserve.
Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your voice,
that I may be consul.
You have deserved nobly of your country
and you have not deserved nobly.
Your enigma?
You have been a scourge to her enemies,
a rod to her friends, but you have not indeed
loved the common people.
You should account me the more virtuous
that I have not been common in my love,
therefore beseech you, I may be consul.
Well, we hope to find you our friend
and therefore give you our voices heartily.
You have many scars for your country.
I will not seal your knowledge in showing them.
I will make much of your voices
and so trouble you no further.
Gods give you joy sir, heartily.
Most sweet voices!
Why in this wolfish garb should I stand here to beg
of Hob and Dick that do appear their needless vouches?
Custom calls me to it.
And what custom wills in all things should we do it.
The one part suffered, the other will I do.
Your voices.
For your voices, I have fought.
For your voices I have fought.
Watched for your voices. - Watched for your voices.
For your voices bear of wounds, two dozen odd.
Two dozen odd.
Battles thrice, six have I seen and heard of.
Have I seen and heard of.
For your voices, I have done many things.
I have done many things.
Some less, some more,
your voices, indeed,
I would be consul.
Therefore, let him be consul.
The gods give you joy and help to make you
good friend to the people,
amen, God save thee, noble consul.
Worthy voices.
How now, my masters, have you chose this man?
We pray the gods he may deserve your love.
He should have showed you his marks of merit,
Could you not have told him as you were lessened? wounds received for's country.
When he had no power, he was but a petty servant Why, so he did, I am sure.
to the state,
he was your enemy. Ever spake against your liberties. Why either were you ignorant to see it? Or seeing it,
If he should still malignantly remain Fast foe to the plebeii, of such childish friendliness to yield your voices?
Your voices might be curses to yourself? Thus to have said, as you were fore advised,
Did you deceive, he did solicit you in pre contempt had touched his spirit and tried his inclination,
so putting him to rage, You should have ta'en the advantage of his choler when he did need your loves. And do you think that this
And pass'd him unelected contempt should not be bruising
to you now that he have power to crush?
He's not confirmed.
We may deny him yet.
Get you hence instantly and tell these friends
Let them assemble, And on a safer judgment that they have chose a consul that will from them
all revoke your ignorant election; take all revoke, make them no more voice than dogs
enforce his pride, And his old hate unto you. that are as often beat for barking
And his old hate unto you. as therefore kept to do so.
No, lay the fault on us, your tribunes.
Say, you chose him more after our commandment That we labored no impediment between
than as guided by your own true affections. but that you must cast your election on him.
Ay, spare us not. Lay the fault on us.
That he's your fixed enemy, and revoke your ignorant election. Say we read lectures to you.
Say you ne'er had done it, harp on that still,
but by our putting on and presently
when you have drawn your number repair to the capitol.
Let them go on, if as his nature is,
he fall in rage with their refusal,
both observe and answer the vantage of his anger.
Uh-huh.
Tullus Aufidius then hath made new head?
So the Volsces stand but as at first ready when time
shall prompt them to make road upon us again.
Ah, they are worn, Lord consul, so we shall hardly
in our ages see their banners wave again.
Shh, saw you Aufidius?
Spoke he of me?
How?
What?
At Antium lives he,
at Antium!
I wish I had cause to seek him there,
to oppose his hatred fully, welcome home.
Pass no further.
Ha, what is that?
It will be dangerous to go on, no further.
What makes this change?
The matter?
Hath he not passed the noble and the common?
Cominius, no.
Have I had children's voices?
Tribunes, give way, he shall to the marketplace.
The people are incensed against him.
Stop, or all will fall in broil.
Are these your herd, must these have voices
that can yield them now and straight disclaim their tongues?
What are your offices, you being their mouths,
why rule you not their teeth?
Have you not set them on?
Be calm, be calm.
It is a purposed thing and it grows by plot
to curb the will of the nobility.
Suffer it and live with such as cannot rule
nor ever will be ruled.
Call it not a plot.
The people cry you mock them.
And of late, when corn was given them gratis,
you repined, scandaled the suppliants for the people,
called them time pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness.
Why, this was known before.
Not to them all.
Have you informed them sithence?
How? I inform them.
You are like to do such business.
Not unlike, each way to better yours.
Why then should I be consul?
By yon clouds, let me deserve so ill as you
and make me your fellow tribune.
You show too much of that for which the people stir.
If you will pass to where you are bound,
you must inquire your way which you are out of
with a gentler spirit or never be so noble as a consul
nor yoke with him for tribune.
Let's be calm. - The people are abused,
set on, this paltering becomes not Rome,
nor has Coriolanus deserved this so dishonored rub.
Laid falsely in the plain way of his merit.
Tell me of corn, this was my speech
and I will speak it again.
Not now, not now. - Not in this heat, sir, now
Now as I live, I will, my nobler friends,
I crave their pardons, for the mutable rank scented many,
let them regard me as I do not flatter and therein
behold themselves, I say again, in soothing them,
we nourish against our Senate the cockle of rebellion,
insolence, sedition, which we ourselves have plowed for,
sowed and scattered by mingling them with us.
The honored number who lack not virtue, no,
nor power but that which they have given to beggars.
Well, no more. - No more words,
we beseech you. How no more?
As for my country, I have shed my blood,
not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs coin words
to their decay against those measles which we disdain
should tatter us, yet sought the very way to catch them.
You speak o' the people as if you were a God
to punish and not a man of their infirmity.
'Twere well we'd let the people know it.
What, what, his temper? Temper?
Were I as patient as the midnight sleep,
by Jove, 'twould be my mind.
It is a mind that shall remain a poison where it is,
not poison any further.
Shall remain?
Hear you this, Shaitan of the minnows,
mark you his absolute shall.
Twas out of order.
Shall!
Oh good, but most unwise patricians.
If he hath 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 their benches by you.
You are plebeians if they be senators.
Shall, 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 the other.
Well, on to the marketplace.
Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth the corn
of the storehouse gratis...
Well, well, no more of that.
I say they nourish'd disobedience,
fed the ruin of the state
Why shall the people give one
that speaks thus their voice?
Come, enough. Enough with over measure.
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.
Has said enough.
Has spoken like a traitor and shall answer as traitors do.
Thou wretch, despite o'erwhelm thee!
What should the people do with these tribunes?
In a rebellion, when what's not right,
what must be was law, then were they chosen
in a better hour, let what is right be said,
it must be right and throw their power in the dust!
Manifest treason? - This a consul? No.
Let him be apprehended! - Go, call the people
in whose name myself attach thee as a traitorous innovator,
a foe to the public weal, obey, I charge thee
and follow to thine answer! - Hence, rotten thing!
- Off, off. - Seize him!
Here's he that would take from you all your power.
You are at point to lose your liberty,
Marcius would have all from you,
Marcius, whom late you have named for consul.
Fie, fie, this is the way to kindle, not to quench.
To unbuild the city and to lay it all flat.
What is the city but the people?
By the consent of all, we were elected
the people's magistrates.
But that is the way to lay the city flat,
to bring the roof to the foundation, and bury all.
This deserves death. - Either let us stand
to our authority or let us lose it.
We do here pronounce upon the part of the people
in whose power we were elected theirs,
Marcius is worthy of present death.
Therefore lay hold of him, bear him to the rock Tarpeian
and from thence into destruction cast him!
No, I'll die here! Lay hands upon him!
There's some among you who have beheld me fighting.
Come, try upon yourselves what you have seen me!
Down with that sword, get ye to your house, be gone, away,
all will be naught else.
Nay, I prithee, noble friend, home to thy house,
leave us to cure this cause.
Be gone, put not your worthy rage into your tongue.
One time will owe another.
On fair ground I could beat forty of them!
Yea, yea, yeah, I could take up a brace
o' the best of them, yea, the two tribunes,
but now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic.
Be gone away. Nay!
Come away! I...
Oh, jeez, yeah, come on.
His nature is too noble for this world.
He will not flatter Neptune for his trident
nor Jove for his power to thunder.
His heart's his mouth, what his breast forges,
that his tongue must speak and ha,
being angry, forgets ever that he heard the name of death.
Let them pull all about mine ears,
present me death on the wheel or at wild horses' heels,
yet will I still be thus to them.
You do the nobler.
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.
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?
Oh, sir, sir, sir.
I would have had you put your power well on
before you had worn it out!
Let go.
Lesser had been the checkings of your disposition
if you had not showed them how you were disposed,
ere they lacked power to cross you!
Let them hang.
Ay, and burn too!
Come, come, you have been too rough,
something too rough, you must return and mend it.
There's no remedy unless by not so doing
our good city cleave in the midst and perish.
Pray be counseled?
I have a heart as little apt as yours,
but yet a brain that leads my use of anger
to better vantage.
Well said, noble woman.
Well, what must I do?
Return to the tribunes.
Well, what then, what then? Repent what you have spoke.
For them! I cannot do it for the gods,
must I do it for them?
You are too absolute!
I have heard you say
honor and policy,
like unsevered friends in the war do grow together.
Grant that and tell me in peace what each of them
by the other lose that they combine not there.
Tush, tush. A good demand.
If it be honor 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 you hold companionship
in peace with honor as in war?
Why force you this?
Because that now it lies on you to speak to the people.
Not by your own instruction,
nor by the matter which your heart prompts you,
but with such words that are but rooted in your tongue,
though bastards and syllables of no allowance
to your bosom's truth.
Now, this no more dishonors you at all
than to take in a town with gentle words
which else would put you to the fortune
and the hazard of much blood.
I would dissemble with my nature
were my fortunes and my friends at stake required.
I should do so in honor.
I am in this your wife, your son, the 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!
Noble lady, come, go with us, speak fair
and you may salve so not only what is dangerous present
but the loss of what is past.
I prithee now.
My son,
go to them.
Be with them.
Thy knee bussing the stones and say to them,
thou art their soldier and being bred in broils
has 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.
This but done even as she speaks, why,
their hearts were yours.
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.
Madam, General Cominius is here.
I have been in the marketplace,
and sir, 'tis fit you make strong party
or defend yourself by calmness or absence, all's in anger.
Only fair speech. I think 'twill serve
if he can thereto frame his spirit.
He must and will.
Prithee now.
Say you will and go about it.
Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce?
Must I with base tongue give my noble heart
a lie that it must bear?
Well, I will do it.
Yet were there but this single plot to lose,
this mold of Marcius, they to dust should grind it
and throw it against the wind.
To the marketplace.
You have now put me to such a part
which never I shall discharge to the life.
Come, come, we'll prompt you.
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.
Well.
I must do it.
Away, my disposition and possess me some harlot spirit.
My throat of war be turned which quired with my drum
into a pipe small as a eunuch, a beggar's tongue
make motion through my lips and my arm'd knees
who bowed but in my stirrups, bend like his
that has received an alms?
I will not do it, lest that I cease to honor my own truth
and by my body's action teach my mind
a most inherent baseness.
At thy choice, then!
To beg of thee, it is my more dishonor than thou of them!
Come all to ruin!
Let thy mother rather feel thy pride
than fear thy dangerous stoutness!
Do as thou list, thy valiantness was mine,
thou suckedst it from me!
But oh, thy pride, thyself!
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 back beloved of all the trades in Rome.
Look, I am going.
Commend me to my wife, I'll return consul
or never trust what my tongue can do in the way
of flattery further.
DO - YOUR - WILL!
All right, away, now the tribunes do attend you.
Now arm yourself to answer mildly
for they are prepared with accusations
as I hear, more strong than are upon you yet.
The word is...
mildly?
Pray you, let us go, let them accuse me by invention.
I will answer in mine honor.
Aye, but mildly.
Mildly be it then!
Mildly!
What, will he come? He's coming.
How accompanied? With old Menenius
and those senators that always favored him.
Assemble presently the people hither
and when they hear me say it shall be so,
be it either for death, for fine or banishment,
then let them if I say fine, cry "Fine.'
If death, cry 'death.'
I shall inform them. 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.
Very well. Go about it.
Put him to anger straight.
Being once chafed, he cannot be reigned again
to temperance, then he speaks what's in his heart
and that is there which looks with us to break his neck.
Well, here he comes.
Calmly, I do beseech you.
The honored guards keep Rome in safety.
And the chairs of justice supplied with worthy men.
Plant love amongst.
Throng our large temples with shows of peace
and not our streets with war.
A noble wish.
Draw near, ye people!
List to your tribunes. Audience, peace, I say!
First, hear me speak.
Peace ho!
Well?
Say.
Shall I be charged no further than this present?
Must all determine here?
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.
I am content.
No, citizens, he says he is content.
The warlike service he has done consider,
think of all the wounds his body bears
which are like graves of the holy churchyard.
Scratches with briars, scars to move laughter only.
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 becomes a soldier.
Well, well, no more.
What is the matter?
That being passed for consul with full voice,
I am so dishonored that the very hour you take it off again?
Answer to us.
Say then, tis true, I ought so.
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.
Traitor, how now?
Temperately, your promise!
The fires in the lowest hell fold-in the people!
Call me their traitor?
Thou injurious tribune, if within thine eyes
sat twenty thousand deaths,
in thy hand, clutch so many millions,
in thy lying tongues, both numbers, I would say,
thou liest unto thee with a voice as free
as I do pray the gods.
Mark you this, people!
To the rocks!
Peace, 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 the extremest. - Death!
But since he hath served well for Rome...
What do you prate of service?
I talk of that that know it.
You? Is this the promise you made your mother? No, I pray you.
I know no further, let them pronounce my exile,
pent to linger but with a grain a day,
I would not buy their mercy at the price of one fair word.
Nor cheque my courage for what they can give.
In the name of the people and in the power of us,
the tribunes, we even from this instant
banish him our city, nevermore to enter our Rome gates
in the people's name, I say,
it shall be so.
- It shall be so. - It shall be so!
Hear me, my masters and my common friends...
He's sentenced, no more hearing!
Now now now, let me speak.
I have been consul and can show for Rome
her enemy's marks upon me.
I do love my country's good with a respect
more holy, more tender, more profound than mine own life,
then if I would, speak that.
We know your drift, speak what!
There is no more to be said but he is banished.
As enemy to the people and his country, it shall be so.
It shall be so!
You common cry of curs!
Whose breath I hate as reek of the rotten fens,
whose love 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 rumor shake your hearts.
Your enemies with nodding of their plumes
fan you into despair!
Have power still to banish your defenders
til at length your ignorance which finds not 'til it feels
delivers 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.
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 extremity 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.
You used to load me with precepts
that would make invincible the heart that conned them.
Oh heavens, oh heavens!
Nay, prithee woman.
Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome,
and occupations perish!
What, what, what!
I shall be loved when I am lacked.
Nay, mother, resume that spirit, when you are wont to say,
had you been the wife of Hercules,
six of his labors you'd have done,
and saved your husband so much sweat.
Cominius, droop not, adieu.
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 stem,
and thou hast oft beheld heart-hardening 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.
Your son will or exceed the common
or be caught with cautelous baits and practice.
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 the way before thee.
I'll follow thee a month,
devise with thee where thou shalt rest,
that thou mayst hear of us and we of thee.
Oh, the gods!
Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother,
and friends of noble touch.
When I am forth, bid me farewell, and smile.
While I remain above the ground, you shall hear from me still,
and never of me aught but what is like me formerly.
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, I'd with thee every foot.
Give me thy hand.
Come.
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.
O world, thy slippery turns!
Friends now fast sworn,
whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart,
who twin, as 'twere in love unseparable,
shall within this hour, on 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 issue.
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.
Now we have shown our power.
Let us seem humbler after it is done
than when it was a-doing.
Here comes his mother.
Let's not meet her. - Why?
They say she's mad.
They have ta'en note of us, keep on your way.
Oh, you're well met.
The hoarded plague of the gods requite your loves.
Peace, peace.
Be not so loud.
If that I could for weeping, you should hear.
Nay, and you shall hear some.
Will you be gone?
You shall stay too!
I would I had the power to say so to my husband.
Are you mankind?
Aye, 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?
Oh blessed heavens!
More noble blows than ever thou wise words,
and for Rome's good!
I 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.
What then?
What then, he'ld make an end to thy posterity.
Bastards and all!
Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome.
Come, come, peace.
I would he had continued to his country as he began,
and not unknit himself the noble knot he made.
I would he had.
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!
Pray, let us go.
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!
Well, well, we'll leave you.
Why stay we to be baited with one who wants her wits?
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 it.
You have told them home,
and, by my troth, you have good cause.
Sup you with me?
Anger's my meat!
I sup upon myself, and so shall starve with feeding.
Where is this fellow?
Whence comest thou?
What wouldst thou?
Thy name?
Why speaks not, speak man, what's thy name?
If Tullus, not yet thou knowest me,
and seeing me, dost not think me for the man I am,
necessity commands me name myself.
What is thy name?
A name unmusical to the Volscian ears,
and harsh in sound to thine.
Say, what's thy name?
Thou hast 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?
Prepare thy brow to frown.
Know'st thou me yet?
I know thee not. Thy name?
My name is Caius Marcius.
Who hath done to thee particularly
and 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, 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 the voices 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 in the 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 darest not this,
and that to prove more fortunes thou art tired,
then in a word, I also am longer to live most weary,
and do 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 tons of blood out of thy country's breast,
and cannot live but to thy shame,
unless it be to do thee service.
Oh Marcius,
Marcius.
Each word that thou hast spoke
hath weeded from my heart a root of ancient envy.
If Jupiter should from yoned cloud speak divine things,
and say 'tis true,
I'd not believe them more than thee,
all noble Marcius.
Let me twine mine arms about that body,
where against 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 valor.
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 a purpose once more
to hew thy target from thy brawn, or lose mine arm for it.
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 throats,
and waked, half dead with nothing.
Worthy Marcius, 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'er bear it.
You bless me, gods!
Therefore, most absolute sirrah,
if thou wilt have the leading of thine own revenge,
take the one half of my commissions, 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, Marcius,
that was much.
Your hand.
Most welcome.
We hear not of him,
neither need we fear him.
Our 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 dissentious numbers pestering streets
than see our tradesmen working in their shops
and going about their functions friendly.
We stood to it in good time.
Is this Menenius?
'Tis he, 'tis he, oh he has grown most kind of late.
Hail, sir.
Hail to you both.
Your Coriolanus is not much missed,
but with his friends.
The commonwealth doth stand, and so would do,
were he more angry at it.
Yes, all's well.
Might have been much better, if he could have temporized.
Where is he, hear you?
Oh, I hear nothing.
His mother and his wife hear nothing from him.
This is a happier and more comely time.
Caius Marcius was a worthy officer in the war
but insolent, overcome with pride,
ambitious past all thinking, self-loving.
And affecting one sole throne, without assistance.
I think not so.
We should by this, to all our lamentation,
if he had gone forth consul, found it so.
The gods have well prevented it,
and Rome sits safe and still without him.
There is a man, 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.
'Tis Aufidius, who hearing of our Marcius' banishment,
thrusts forth his horn again into the world.
Come, what talk you of Marcius?
Go see this rumorer whipped.
It cannot be The Volsces dare break with us.
Cannot be?
We have record that very well it can,
and three examples of the like have been within my age.
Tell not me, I know this cannot be.
Not possible.
The nobles in great earnestness
are going all to the senate-house.
The report is seconded, and more,
more fearful, is delivered.
What more fearful?
It is spoke freely out of many mouths
that Marcius, joined with Aufidius,
leads a power 'gainst Rome.
This is most likely.
Raised only, that the weaker sort
may wish good Marcius home again.
The very trick on't.
This is unlikely, he and Aufidius can no more atone
than violentest contrariety.
A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius
associated with Aufidius, rages upon our territories,
and have already o'erborne their way,
consumed with fire, and took what lay before them.
Nah!
Oh, oh you have made good work!
What news, what news?
You have holp to ravish your own daughters
and your temples burned in their cement.
Your news, if Marcius should be joined with Volscians...
If! He is their god.
He leads them like a thing made by some other deity
than nature that shapes man better.
Yeah, and they follow him,
against us brats, with no less confidence
than boys pursuing summer butterflies,
or butchers killing flies.
You have made good work, you and your apron-men.
But is this true, sir?
Aye, and you'll look pale before you find it other.
All the regions do smilingly revolt,
and who resist are mocked for valiant ignorance,
and perish constant fools.
Who is't can blame him?
We are all undone, unless the noble man have mercy.
Yeah, well who shall ask it?
The tribunes cannot do it for shame,
the people deserve such pity of him
as the wolf does of the shepherd,
for his best friends, showed like enemies.
It is true, if he were putting to my house the fire
that should consume it, I have not the face
to say, beseech you, cease.
You have brought such a trembling upon Rome,
such as never was so incapable of help.
Say not we brought it!
Oh, come on. How, was it we?
We loved him but, like beasts and cowardly nobles,
gave way unto your clusters,
who did hoot him out of the city.
Yeah, 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 defense
that Rome can make against them.
'Tis no matter,
if he could burn us all into one coal,
we'd have deserved it.
I do not like this news.
Nor I.
Let us to the capitol.
Would half my wealth would buy this for a lie!
Pray, let us go.
I do not know what witchcraft's in him,
but your soldiers use him as their grace 'fore meat,
their talk at table, and their thanks at end.
And you are darkened in this action, sir, even by your own.
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.
Yet I wish, sir, I mean for your particular,
that you had not joined in commission with him,
but either borne this action of yourself,
or to him had left it solely.
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 he thinks, and so it seems,
and is no less apparent to the vulgar eye,
that he bears all things fairly.
Fights dragon-like, 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.
Sir, I beseech you,
think you he'll carry Rome?
All things yield to him ere he sits down.
The nobility of Rome are his.
Senators and patricians love him too.
Tribunes are no soldiers.
I think his 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 bear his honors even.
Whether it was pride,
which out of daily fortune ever taints the happy man,
or 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 the sword to the senate,
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 hath a merit to choke it in the utterance.
So our virtues lie in the interpretation of the time,
and power, unto itself most commendable,
hath not a tomb so evident
as a chair to 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 poorest of all,
then shortly art thou mine.
No, I'll not go. - Oh!
You hear what he hath said, which was sometime his general,
who loved him in a most dear particular.
He would not seem to know me.
Nay, if he coyed to hear Cominius speak,
I'll keep at home.
Yet one time he did call me by my name.
I urged our old acquaintance,
and the drops we have bled together.
Coriolanus, he would not answer to.
Do you hear?
Forbad all names.
He was a kind of nothing,
titleless,
till he had forged himself a name
in the fire of burning Rome.
Why so, you have made good work.
I minded him how royal it was to pardon
when least expected.
He said it was a bare petition of the state
to one whom they had punished.
Very well, could he say less?
I offered to awaken his regard for his,
his private friends.
He said he could not stay to pick them
from a pile of noisome musty chaff.
He said it was folly for one poor grain or two,
to leave unburnt and still to nose the offense.
For one poor grain or two, I am one of those.
His mother, wife, his child, this brave fellow too,
we are the grains, you are the musty chaff
and you are smelt above the moon,
and we must be burnt for you!
Nay pray, be patient!
If you refuse your aid in this so never-needed help,
yet do not upbraid us in 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.
No, I'll not meddle. - Pray you, go to him!
What should I do?
Only make trial what your love for Rome
can do toward Marcius.
Well...
and what if Marcius should return me,
as Cominius is returned, unheard, what then?
Then your good will must have that thanks from Rome
after the measure, as you intended well.
I'll undertake it.
I think he'll hear me, yet, to bite his thumb
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 priest-like fasts.
Therefore I'll watch him till he be dieted to my request,
and then I'll set upon him.
You know the very road into his kindness,
and cannot lose your way.
Good faith, I'll prove him, speed how it will.
I shall ere long have knowledge of my success.
He'll never hear him.
No?
I tell you, he does sit in gold,
his eye
red as 'twould burn Rome,
his injury a jailer to his pity.
I kneeled before him.
It was very faintly he said,
"Rise."
Dismissed me thus with his speechless hand.
All hope is vain.
Unless his noble mother, and his wife
solicit him mercy to his country.
Stay!
whence are you?
Stand, and go back.
You guard like men, 'tis well.
But by your leave, I am an officer of state,
and come to speak with Coriolanus.
From whence? - From Rome.
You may not pass, you must return.
Our general will no more hear from thence.
You'll see your Rome embraced with fire
before you'll speak with Coriolanus.
Good my friends, if you have heard your general
talk of Rome, and of his friends there,
it's lots to blanks, my name hath touched your ears,
it is Menenius.
Be it so, go back.
The virtue of your name is not here passable.
I tell thee, fellow, the general is my friend.
I have been the book end of his good acts,
therefore, fellow,
I must have leave to pass.
Faith, sir, go back.
Prithee remember, my name is Menenius,
always factionary on the party of your general.
You cannot pass, therefore, go back!
Has he dined, canst thou tell?
For I would not speak with him till after dinner.
You're a Roman, are you?
I am, as thy general is.
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 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.
Sir, if thy captain knew I were here, he would use me
with estimation. Come, my captain
knows you not. I mean, thy general.
My general cares not for you!
Back, I say, go, lest I let forth your half pint of blood.
Nay, but, fellow, fellow...
What's the matter?
Now you, companion, I'll say a prayer for you.
You shall know now that I am in estimation.
Guess, but by my entertainment with him,
if thou standest not in the state of hanging.
Behold presently, and swoon for what's to come upon thee.
Oh, my son.
My son, my son.
Thou art preparing fire for us.
Look, 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.
He who, like a block, hath denied my access to thee.
Away!
How, away?
Wife, mother, child, I know not.
My affairs are servanted to others.
That we have been familiar, ingrate forgetfulness
shall poison, rather than pity note how much.
Therefore, be gone.
Mine ears against your suits are stronger than
your gates against my force.
Another word, Menenius, I will not hear thee speak.
This man, Aufidius, was my beloved in Rome,
yet thou behold'st.
You keep a constant temper.
Now, sir, is your name Menenius?
'Tis a spell, you see, of much power.
You know the way home again?
Do you hear how we are shamed
for keeping your greatness back?
What cause do you think I have to swoon?
I neither care for the world nor your general,
for such things as you, I can scarce think there's any,
you are so slight.
He that hath a will to die by himself
fears it not from another.
Let your general do his worst.
As for you, be as you are, long,
and may your misery increase with your age.
I say to you, as I was said to, away!
We will before the walls of Rome
tomorrow set down our host.
My partner in this action,
you must report to the Volscian lords
how plainly I have borne this business.
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.
This last old man,
whom with a cracked heart I have sent to Rome,
loved me above the measure of a father.
Nay, godded me, indeed.
Fresh embassies and suits, nor from the state
nor private friends, hereafter will I lend ear to.
What shout is this?
Let the Volsces plow 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.
My lord and husband!
These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome.
The sorrow that delivers us thus changed
makes you think so.
Best of my flesh, forgive my tyranny,
but do not say for that, forgive our Romans.
Oh, a kiss
long as my exile,
sweet as my revenge.
Ye gods I prate, and the most noble mother in the world
leave unsaluted, sink, my knee in the earth.
Oooh,
stand up blest.
Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint,
I kneel before thee, and unproperly show duty,
as mistaken all this while between the child and parent.
What is this, your knees to me, to your corrected son?
Thou art my warrior,
I holp to frame thee.
This is a poor epitome of yours,
which by the interpretation of full time
may show like all yourself.
The god of soldiers,
with the consent of supreme Jove,
inform thy thoughts with nobleness,
that thou mayst prove to shame unvulnerable,
and stick in the wars like a great sea-mark,
standing every flaw, and saving those that eye thee.
Your knee, sirrah.
That's my brave boy.
Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself,
are suitors to you?
I beseech you, peace, or if you'll ask,
remember this before,
the thing I have forsworn to grant
may never be held by you denials.
Do not bid me dismiss my soldiers,
or capitulate again with Rome's mechanics.
Tell me not wherein I seem unnatural.
Desire not to allay my rages and revenges
with your colder reasons.
Oh, 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.
Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark,
for we'll hear nought from Rome in private.
Your request?
Should we be silent and not speak,
our raiment and state of bodies
would betray 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.
We must find an evident calamity,
though we had our wish, which side should win.
For either thou must, like a foreign recreant,
be led with manacles thorough our streets,
or else triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin,
and bear the palm for having bravely shed
thy wife and children's blood.
For myself, son,
I purpose not to wait on fortune
till these wars determine.
If I cannot persuade thee rather to show a noble grace
to both parts, than seek the end of one,
thou shalt no sooner march to assault thy country
than to tread, trust to it, thou shalt not,
on thy mother's womb, that brought thee to this world.
Aye, and mine, that brought you forth this boy,
to keep your name Living to time.
I shall not tread on me.
I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I'll fight.
I have sat too long.
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 honor.
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 knowest, 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 the ensuing age abhorred.
Why dost not speak?
Thinkest thou it honorable 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 reason.
There's no man in the world more bound to his mother,
yet here he lets me prate like one of the stocks.
Thou hast never in thy life
showed thy dear mother any courtesy.
When she, poor hen, has clucked thee to the wars
and safely home, loaden with honors.
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 to which 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 neighbors.
Nay, beholds this boy that cannot tell what he would have
does reason our petition with more strength
than thou hast to deny it.
Come, let us go.
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 a-fire, and then I'll speak a little.
Oh mother,
mother.
What have you done?
Behold, the heavens do ope, the gods look down,
and this unnatural scene they laugh at!
Oh my mother,
mother.
Ah!
Is't possible that so short a time
can alter the condition of a man?
He wants nothing of a god but eternity
and a heaven to throne in.
Yes, mercy, if you report him truly.
The gods be good unto us.
No, in such a case as this,
the gods will not be good to us.
When we banished him, we respected not them,
and he, returning to break our necks, they respect not us.
Sir!
If you'd save your life, fly you 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.
What's the news?
Good news?
The ladies have prevailed.
The Volscians are dislodged, and Marcius gone?
A merrier day did never yet greet Rome, friend.
Art thou certain this is true, is it most certain?
This is good news, I will go meet the ladies.
You have prayed well today.
This morning for ten thousand of your throats
I'd not have given a doit.
How is it with our general?
As with a man by his own charity slain.
We must proceed as we do find the people.
The people will remain uncertain whilst
'twixt you there's difference.
But the fall of either makes the survivor heir of all.
I know it.
And my pretext to strike at him admits a good discourse.
I raised him,
and I pawned
mine honor 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.
Sir, his stoutness, when he did stand for consul,
which he lost by lack of stooping...
That I would have spoken of.
Being banished for it, he came unto my hearth.
He presented to my knife his throat.
I took him,
I 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.
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...
There was it, for the which my sinews
shall be stretched upon him.
For a few drops of women's rheum,
which are as cheap as lies,
he sold the blood and labor of our great action.
Therefore shall he die, and I'll renew me in his fall.
But, hark!
Your native town you entered like a post,
and had no welcomes home, but he returns,
splitting the air with noise.
And patient fools, whose children he hath slain,
their base throats tear with giving him glory.
Say no more, here come the lords.
You are most welcome home.
I have not deserved it.
But worthy lords, have you with heed
perused what I have written to you?
We have.
And grieve to hear it.
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,
making a treaty where there was a yielding,
this admits no excuse.
You shall hear him.
Hail, lords, I am returned your soldier,
no more infected with my country's love
than when I parted thence,
but still subsisting under your great command.
Our spoils we have brought home do more than counterpoise
a full third part the charges of the action.
We have made peace
with no less honor to the Antiates
than shame to the Romans.
And we here deliver, subscribed by the consuls
and patricians, together with the seal of the senate,
what we have compounded on.
Read it not, noble lords,
but tell the traitor, in the highest degree
he hath abused your powers.
Traitor, how now?
- Aye traitor, Marcius. - Marcius?
Aye, Marcius,
Caius Marcius.
Dost thou think I'll grace thee with that robbery,
thy stolen name
Coriolanus in Corioles?
You lords and heads of the 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 of the war,
but at his nurse's tears he whined
and roared away your victory!
Hear'st thou, Mars?
Name not the god, thou boy of tears!
Ha? - No more.
Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart
too great for what contains it.
Boy?
Oh slave, pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time
that ever I was forced to scold.
And 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.
Peace, both, hear me speak.
Cut me to pieces, Volsces.
Boy?
False hound.
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
that like an eagle in a dove-cote,
I fluttered your Volscians in Corioles.
Alone, I did it, boy!
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?
Peace, ho, no outrage, peace!
The man is noble and his fame folds-in
this orb over the earth.
His last offenses to us shall have judicious hearing.
Stand, Aufidius, and trouble not the peace.
Oh that I had him, with six Aufidiuses or more,
his tribe, to use my lawful sword!
Insolent villain!
Hold, hold, hold, hold, hold!
Thou hast done a deed whereat valor will weep.
When you shall know,
noble lords,
the great danger which this man's life did owe you,
you'll rejoice that he is thus cut off.
Please it your honors to call me to your senate,
I'll deliver myself your most loyal servant,
or endure your heaviest censure.
My rage is gone,
and I am struck with sorrow.
Help, to bear him up,
three of the chiefest soldiers.
I'll be one.
Beat thou the drum, let 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.
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