The Tragedy of Coriolanus

SCENE IV. Before Corioli

[Enter, with drum and colours, MARCIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, Officers, and soldiers.]

MARCIUS

 
Yonder comes news: – a wager they have met.
 

LARTIUS

 
My horse to yours, no.
 

MARCIUS

 
'Tis done.
 

LARTIUS

 
Agreed.
 

[Enter a Messenger.]

MARCIUS

 
Say, has our general met the enemy?
 

MESSENGER

 
They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet.
 

LARTIUS

 
So, the good horse is mine.
 

MARCIUS

 
I'll buy him of you.
 

LARTIUS

 
No, I'll nor sell nor give him: lend you him I will
For half a hundred years. – Summon the town.
 

MARCIUS

 
How far off lie these armies?
 

MESSENGER

 
Within this mile and half.
 

MARCIUS

 
Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they ours. —
Now, Mars, I pr'ythee, make us quick in work,
That we with smoking swords may march from hence
To help our fielded friends! – Come, blow thy blast.
 

[They sound a parley. Enter, on the Walls, some Senators and others.]

 
Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls?
 

FIRST SENATOR

 
No, nor a man that fears you less than he,
That's lesser than a little.
 

[Drum afar off]

 
Hark, our drums
Are bringing forth our youth! we'll break our walls
Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates,
Which yet seem shut, we have but pinn'd with rushes;
They'll open of themselves.
 

[Alarum far off.]

 
Hark you far off!
There is Aufidius; list what work he makes
Amongst your cloven army.
 

MARCIUS

 
O, they are at it!
 

LARTIUS

 
Their noise be our instruction. – Ladders, ho!
 

[The Volsces enter and pass over.]

MARCIUS

 
They fear us not, but issue forth their city.
Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight
With hearts more proof than shields. – Advance, brave Titus:
They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts,
Which makes me sweat with wrath. – Come on, my fellows:
He that retires, I'll take him for a Volsce,
And he shall feel mine edge.
 

[Alarums, and exeunt Romeans and Volsces fighting. Romans are beaten back to their trenches. Re-enter MARCIUS.]

MARCIUS

 
All the contagion of the south light on you,
You shames of Rome! – you herd of – Boils and plagues
Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd
Farther than seen, and one infect another
Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese
That bear the shapes of men, how have you run
From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell!
All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale
With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge home,
Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe
And make my wars on you: look to't: come on;
If you'll stand fast we'll beat them to their wives,
As they us to our trenches.
 

[Another alarum. The Volsces and Romans re-enter, and the fight is renewed. The Volsces retire into Corioli, and MARCIUS follows them to the gates.]

 
So, now the gates are ope: – now prove good seconds:
'Tis for the followers fortune widens them,
Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like.
 

[He enters the gates]

FIRST SOLDIER

 
Fool-hardiness: not I.
 

SECOND SOLDIER

 
Nor I.
 

[MARCIUS is shut in.]

FIRST SOLDIER

 
See, they have shut him in.
 

ALL

 
To th' pot, I warrant him.
 

[Alarum continues]

[Re-enter TITUS LARTIUS.]

LARTIUS

 
What is become of Marcius?
 

ALL

 
Slain, sir, doubtless.
 

FIRST SOLDIER

 
Following the fliers at the very heels,
With them he enters; who, upon the sudden,
Clapp'd-to their gates: he is himself alone,
To answer all the city.
 

LARTIUS

 
O noble fellow!
Who sensible, outdares his senseless sword,
And when it bows stands up! Thou art left, Marcius:
A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art,
Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier
Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible
Only in strokes; but with thy grim looks and
The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds
Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the world
Were feverous and did tremble.
 

[Re-enter MARCIUS, bleeding, assaulted by the enemy.]

FIRST SOLDIER

 
Look, sir.
 

LARTIUS

 
O, 'tis Marcius!
Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike.
 

[They fight, and all enter the city.]

SCENE V. Within Corioli. A street

[Enter certain Romans, with spoils.]

FIRST ROMAN

 
This will I carry to Rome.
 

SECOND ROMAN

 
And I this.
 

THIRD ROMAN

 
A murrain on't! I took this for silver.
 

[Alarum continues still afar off.]

[Enter MARCIUS and TITUS LARTIUS with a trumpet.]

MARCIUS

 
See here these movers that do prize their hours
At a crack'd drachma! Cushions, leaden spoons,
Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would
Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves,
Ere yet the fight be done, pack up: – down with them! —
And hark, what noise the general makes! – To him! —
There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius,
Piercing our Romans; then, valiant Titus, take
Convenient numbers to make good the city;
Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste
To help Cominius.
 

LARTIUS

 
Worthy sir, thou bleed'st;
Thy exercise hath been too violent
For a second course of fight.
 

MARCIUS

 
Sir, praise me not;
My work hath yet not warm'd me: fare you well;
The blood I drop is rather physical
Than dangerous to me: to Aufidius thus
I will appear, and fight.
 

LARTIUS

 
Now the fair goddess, Fortune,
Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms
Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman,
Prosperity be thy page!
 

MARCIUS

 
Thy friend no less
Than those she placeth highest! – So farewell.
 

LARTIUS

 
Thou worthiest Marcius! —
 

[Exit MARCIUS.]

 
Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place;
Call thither all the officers o' the town,
Where they shall know our mind: away!
 

[Exeunt.]

SCENE VI. Near the camp of COMINIUS

[Enter COMINIUS and Foreces, retreating.]

COMINIUS

 
Breathe you, my friends: well fought; we are come off
Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands
Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, sirs,
We shall be charg'd again. Whiles we have struck,
By interims and conveying gusts we have heard
The charges of our friends. The Roman gods,
Lead their successes as we wish our own,
That both our powers, with smiling fronts encountering,
May give you thankful sacrifice! —
 

[Enter A MESSENGER.]

 

 
Thy news?
 

MESSENGER

 
The citizens of Corioli have issued,
And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle:
I saw our party to their trenches driven,
And then I came away.
 

COMINIUS

 
Though thou speak'st truth,
Methinks thou speak'st not well. How long is't since?
 

MESSENGER

 
Above an hour, my lord.
 

COMINIUS

 
'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums:
How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour,
And bring thy news so late?
 

MESSENGER

 
Spies of the Volsces
Held me in chase, that I was forc'd to wheel
Three or four miles about; else had I, sir,
Half an hour since brought my report.
 

COMINIUS

 
Who's yonder,
That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods!
He has the stamp of Marcius; and I have
Before-time seen him thus.
 

MARCIUS

[Within.] Come I too late?

COMINIUS

 
The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor
More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue
From every meaner man.
 

[Enter MARCIUS.]

MARCIUS

 
Come I too late?
 

COMINIUS

 
Ay, if you come not in the blood of others,
But mantled in your own.
 

MARCIUS

 
O! let me clip ye
In arms as sound as when I woo'd; in heart
As merry as when our nuptial day was done,
And tapers burn'd to bedward.
 

COMINIUS

 
Flower of warriors,
How is't with Titus Lartius?
 

MARCIUS

 
As with a man busied about decrees:
Condemning some to death and some to exile;
Ransoming him or pitying, threat'ning the other;
Holding Corioli in the name of Rome,
Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash,
To let him slip at will.
 

COMINIUS

 
Where is that slave
Which told me they had beat you to your trenches?
Where's he? call him hither.
 

MARCIUS

 
Let him alone;
He did inform the truth: but for our gentlemen,
The common file, – a plague! – tribunes for them! —
The mouse ne'er shunned the cat as they did budge
From rascals worse than they.
 

COMINIUS

 
But how prevail'd you?
 

MARCIUS

 
Will the time serve to tell? I do not think.
Where is the enemy? are you lords o' the field?
If not, why cease you till you are so?
 

COMINIUS

 
Marcius,
We have at disadvantage fought, and did
Retire, to win our purpose.
 

MARCIUS

 
How lies their battle? know you on which side
They have placed their men of trust?
 

COMINIUS

 
As I guess, Marcius,
Their bands in the vaward are the Antiates,
Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius,
Their very heart of hope.
 

MARCIUS

 
I do beseech you,
By all the battles wherein we have fought,
By the blood we have shed together, by the vows
We have made to endure friends, that you directly
Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates;
And that you not delay the present, but,
Filling the air with swords advanc'd and darts,
We prove this very hour.
 

COMINIUS

 
Though I could wish
You were conducted to a gentle bath,
And balms applied to you, yet dare I never
Deny your asking: take your choice of those
That best can aid your action.
 

MARCIUS

 
Those are they
That most are willing. – If any such be here, —
As it were sin to doubt, – that love this painting
Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear
Lesser his person than an ill report;
If any think brave death outweighs bad life,
And that his country's dearer than himself;
Let him alone, or so many so minded,
Wave thus [waving his hand], to express his disposition,
And follow Marcius.
 

[They all shout and wave their swords; take him up in their arms and cast up their caps.]

 
O, me alone! Make you a sword of me?
If these shows be not outward, which of you
But is four Volsces? none of you but is
Able to bear against the great Aufidius
A shield as hard as his. A certain number,
Though thanks to all, must I select from all: the rest
Shall bear the business in some other fight,
As cause will be obey'd. Please you to march;
And four shall quickly draw out my command,
Which men are best inclin'd.
 

COMINIUS

 
March on, my fellows;
Make good this ostentation, and you shall
Divide in all with us.
 

[Exeunt.]

SCENE VII. The gates of Corioli

[TITUS LARTIUS, having set a guard upon Corioli, going with drum and trumpet toward COMINIUS and CAIUS MARCIUS, enters with a LIEUTENANT, a party of Soldiers, and a Scout.]

LARTIUS

 
So, let the ports be guarded: keep your duties
As I have set them down. If I do send, despatch
Those centuries to our aid; the rest will serve
For a short holding: if we lose the field
We cannot keep the town.
 

LIEUTENANT

 
Fear not our care, sir.
 

LARTIUS

 
Hence, and shut your gates upon's. —
Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct us.
 

[Exeunt.]

SCENE VIII. A field of battle between the Roman and the Volscian camps

[Alarum. Enter, from opposite sides, MARCIUS and AUFIDIUS.]

MARCIUS

 
I'll fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee
Worse than a promise-breaker.
 

AUFIDIUS

 
We hate alike:
Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor
More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot.
 

MARCIUS

 
Let the first budger die the other's slave,
And the gods doom him after!
 

AUFIDIUS

 
If I fly, Marcius,
Halloo me like a hare.
 

MARCIUS

 
Within these three hours, Tullus,
Alone I fought in your Corioli walls,
And made what work I pleas'd: 'tis not my blood
Wherein thou seest me mask'd: for thy revenge
Wrench up thy power to the highest.
 

AUFIDIUS

 
Wert thou the Hector
That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny,
Thou shouldst not scape me here. —
 

[They fight, and certain Volsces come to the aid of AUFIDIUS.]

 
Officious, and not valiant, – you have sham'd me
In your condemned seconds.
 

[Exeunt fighting, driven in by MAR.]

SCENE IX. The Roman camp

[Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter, at one side, COMINIUS and Romans; at the other side, MARCIUS, with his arm in a scarf, and other Romans.]

COMINIUS

 
If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work,
Thou't not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it
Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles;
Where great patricians shall attend, and shrug,
I' the end admire; where ladies shall be frighted
And, gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dull tribunes,
That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours,
Shall say, against their hearts 'We thank the gods
Our Rome hath such a soldier.'
Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast,
Having fully dined before.
 

[Enter TITUS LARTIUS, with his power, from the pursuit.]

LARTIUS

 
O general,
Here is the steed, we the caparison:
Hadst thou beheld, —
 

MARCIUS

 
Pray now, no more: my mother,
Who has a charter to extol her blood,
When she does 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:
He that has but effected his good will
Hath overta'en mine act.
 

COMINIUS

 
You shall not be
The grave of your deserving; Rome must know
The value of her own: 'twere a concealment
Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement,
To hide your doings; and to silence that
Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd,
Would seem but modest: therefore, I beseech you, —
In sign of what you are, not to reward
What you have done, – before our army hear me.
 

MARCIUS

 
I have some wounds upon me, and they smart
To hear themselves remember'd.
 

COMINIUS

 
Should they not,
Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude,
And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses, —
Whereof we have ta'en good, and good store, – of all
The treasure in this field achiev'd and city,
We render you the tenth; to be ta'en forth
Before the common distribution at
Your only choice.
 

MARCIUS

 
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.
 

[A long flourish. They all cry 'Marcius, Marcius!', cast up their

 
caps and lances. COMINIUS and LARTIUS stand bare.]
May these same instruments which you profane
Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall
I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be
Made all of false-fac'd soothing.
When steel grows soft as the parasite's silk,
Let him be made a coverture for the wars.
No more, I say! for that I have not wash'd
My nose that bled, or foil'd some debile 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 sauc'd with lies.
 

COMINIUS

 
Too modest are you;
More cruel to your good report than grateful
To us that give you truly; by your patience,
If 'gainst yourself you be incens'd, we'll put you, —
Like one that means his proper harm, – in manacles,
Then reason safely with you. – Therefore be it known,
As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius
Wears this war's garland: in token of the which,
My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him,
With all his trim belonging; and from this time,
For what he did before Corioli, call him,
With all the applause – and clamour of the host,
'Caius Marcius Coriolanus.' —
Bear the addition nobly ever!
 

[Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums]

 

ALL

 
Caius Marcius Coriolanus!
 

CORIOLANUS

 
I will go wash;
And when my face is fair you shall perceive
Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thank you; —
I mean to stride your steed; and at all times
To undercrest your good addition
To the fairness of my power.
 

COMINIUS

 
So, to our tent;
Where, ere we do repose us, we will write
To Rome of our success. – You, Titus Lartius,
Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome
The best, with whom we may articulate
For their own good and ours.
 

LARTIUS

 
I shall, my lord.
 

CORIOLANUS

 
The gods begin to mock me. I, that now
Refus'd most princely gifts, am bound to beg
Of my lord general.
 

COMINIUS

 
Take't: 'tis yours. – What is't?
 

CORIOLANUS

 
I sometime lay here in Corioli
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 o'erwhelmed my pity: I request you
To give my poor host freedom.
 

COMINIUS

 
O, well begg'd!
Were he the butcher of my son, he should
Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus.
 

LARTIUS

 
Marcius, his name?
 

CORIOLANUS

 
By Jupiter, forgot: —
I am weary; yea, my memory is tir'd. —
Have we no wine here?
 

COMINIUS

 
Go we to our tent:
The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time
It should be look'd to: come.
 

[Exeunt.]

SCENE X. The camp of the Volsces

[A flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, bloody, with two or three soldiers.]

AUFIDIUS

 
The town is ta'en.
 

FIRST SOLDIER

 
'Twill be delivered back on good condition.
 

AUFIDIUS

 
Condition!
I would I were a Roman; for I cannot,
Being a Volsce, 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 hast thou beat me;
And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter
As often as we eat. – By the elements,
If e'er again I meet him beard to beard,
He's mine or I am his: mine emulation
Hath not that honour 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.
 

FIRST SOLDIER

 
He's the devil.
 

AUFIDIUS

 
Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour's poisoned
With only suffering stain by him; for him
Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep nor sanctuary,
Being naked, sick; nor fane nor Capitol,
The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice,
Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up
Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst
My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it
At home, upon my brother's guard, even there,
Against the hospitable canon, would I
Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to the city;
Learn how 'tis held; and what they are that must
Be hostages for Rome.
 

FIRST SOLDIER

 
Will not you go?
 

AUFIDIUS

 
I am attended at the cypress grove: I pray you, —
'Tis south the city mills, – bring me word thither
How the world goes, that to the pace of it
I may spur on my journey.
 

FIRST SOLDIER

 
I shall, sir.
 

[Exeunt.]

ACT II

SCENE I. Rome. A public place

[Enter MENENIUS, SICINIUS, and BRUTUS.]

MENENIUS

 
The augurer tells me we shall have news tonight.
 

BRUTUS

 
Good or bad?
 

MENENIUS

 
Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not
Marcius.
 

SICINIUS

 
Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.
 

MENENIUS

 
Pray you, who does the wolf love?
 

SICINIUS

 
The lamb.
 

MENENIUS

 
Ay, to devour him, as the hungry plebeians would the noble
Marcius.
 

BRUTUS

 
He's a lamb indeed, that baas like a bear.
 
 
MENENIUS. He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two are old men: tell me one thing that I shall ask you.
 

BOTH TRIBUNES

 
Well, sir.
MENENIUS. In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two have not in abundance?
 

BRUTUS

 
He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all.
 

SICINIUS

 
Especially in pride.
 

BRUTUS

 
And topping all others in boasting.
 
 
MENENIUS. This is strange now: do you two know how you are censured here in the city, I mean of us o' the right-hand file? Do you?
 

BOTH TRIBUNES

 
Why, how are we censured?
 

MENENIUS

 
Because you talk of pride now, – will you not be angry?
 

BOTH TRIBUNES

 
Well, well, sir, well.
 
 
MENENIUS. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience: give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at your pleasures; at the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you in being so. You blame Marcius for being proud?
 

BRUTUS

 
We do it not alone, sir.
 
 
MENENIUS. I know you can do very little alone; for your helps are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous single: your abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone. You talk of pride: O that you could turn your eyes toward the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O that you could!
 

BOTH TRIBUNES

 
What then, sir?
 
 
MENENIUS. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates, – alias fools, – as any in Rome.
 

SICINIUS

 
Menenius, you are known well enough too.
 
 
MENENIUS. I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in't; said to be something imperfect in favouring the first complaint, hasty and tinder-like upon too trivial motion; one that converses more with the buttock of the night than with the forehead of the morning. What I think I utter, and spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two such wealsmen as you are, – I cannot call you Lycurguses, – if the drink you give me touch my palate adversely, I make a crooked face at it. I cannot say your worships have delivered the matter well when I find the ass in compound with the major part of your syllables; and though I must be content to bear with those that say you are reverend grave men, yet they lie deadly that tell you have good faces. If you see this in the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known well enough too? What harm can your bisson conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too?
 

BRUTUS

 
Come, sir, come, we know you well enough.
 
 
MENENIUS. You know neither me, yourselves, nor anything. You are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs; you wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and a fosset-seller, and then rejourn the controversy of threepence to a second day of audience. – When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you chance to be pinched with the colic, you make faces like mummers, set up the bloody flag against all patience, and, in roaring for a chamber-pot, dismiss the controversy bleeding, the more entangled by your hearing: all the peace you make in their cause is calling both the parties knaves. You are a pair of strange ones.
 
 
BRUTUS. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table than a necessary bencher in the Capitol.
 
 
MENENIUS. Our very priests must become mockers if they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging of your beards; and your beards deserve not so honourable a grave as to stuff a botcher's cushion or to be entombed in an ass's pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors since Deucalion; though peradventure some of the best of 'em were hereditary hangmen. God-den 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.
 

[BRUTUS and SICINIUS retire.]

[Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, VALERIA, &c.]

 
How now, my as fair as noble ladies, – and the moon, were she earthly, no nobler, – whither do you follow your eyes so fast?
 

VOLUMNIA

 
Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for the love of
Juno, let's go.
 

MENENIUS

 
Ha! Marcius coming home!
 

VOLUMNIA

 
Ay, worthy Menenius, and with most prosperous approbation.
 
 
MENENIUS. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee. – Hoo! Marcius coming home!
 

VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA

 
Nay, 'tis true.
 
 
VOLUMNIA. Look, here's a letter from him: the state hath another, his wife another; and I think there's one at home for you.
 

MENENIUS

 
I will make my very house reel to-night. – A letter for me?
 

VIRGILIA

 
Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw it.
 
 
MENENIUS. A letter for me! It gives me an estate of seven years' health; in which time I will make a lip at the physician: the most sovereign prescription in Galen is but empiricutic, and, to this preservative, of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded.
 

VIRGILIA

 
O, no, no, no.
 

VOLUMNIA

 
O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't.
MENENIUS. So do I too, if it be not too much. – Brings a victory in his pocket? – The wounds become him.
VOLUMNIA. On's brows: Menenius, he comes the third time home with the oaken garland.
 

MENENIUS

 
Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly?
 
 
VOLUMNIA. Titus Lartius writes, – they fought together, but Aufidius got off.
 
 
MENENIUS. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that: an he had stayed by him, I would not have been so fidiused for all the chests in Corioli and the gold that's in them. Is the Senate possessed of this?
 
 
VOLUMNIA. 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.
 

VALERIA

 
In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him.
 

MENENIUS

 
Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing.
 

VIRGILIA

 
The gods grant them true!
 

VOLUMNIA

 
True! pow, wow.
 

MENENIUS. True! I'll be sworn they are true. Where is he wounded? – [To the TRIBUNES, who come forward.] God save your good worships! Marcius is coming home; he has more cause to be proud. – Where is he wounded?

VOLUMNIA

 
I' the shoulder and i' 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.
 
 
MENENIUS. One i' the neck and two i' the thigh, – there's nine that I know.
 

VOLUMNIA

 
He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five wounds upon him.
 

MENENIUS

 
Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave.
 

[A shout and flourish.]

 
Hark! the trumpets.
 

VOLUMNIA

 
These are the ushers of Marcius: before him
He carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears;
Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie;
Which, being advanc'd, declines, and then men die.
 

[A sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter COMINIUS and TITUS LARTIUS; between them, CORIOLANUS, crowned with an oaken garland; with CAPTAINS and Soldiers and a HERALD.]

HERALD

 
Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight
Within Corioli gates: where he hath won,
With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these
In honour follows Coriolanus: —
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!
 

[Flourish.]

ALL

 
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!
 

CORIOLANUS

 
No more of this, it does offend my heart;
Pray now, no more.
 

COMINIUS

 
Look, sir, your mother!
 

CORIOLANUS

O,

 
You have, I know, petition'd all the gods
For my prosperity!
 

[Kneels.]

VOLUMNIA

 
Nay, my good soldier, up;
My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and
By deed-achieving honour newly nam'd, —
What is it? – Coriolanus must I call thee?
But, O, thy wife!
 

CORIOLANUS

 
My gracious silence, hail!
Wouldst thou have laugh'd had I come coffin'd home,
That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah, my dear,
Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear,
And mothers that lack sons.
 

MENENIUS

 
Now the gods crown thee!
 

CORIOLANUS

 
And live you yet? [To VALERIA] – O my sweet lady, pardon.
VOLUMNIA. I know not where to turn. – O, welcome home; – and welcome, general; – and you are welcome all.
 

MENENIUS

 
A hundred thousand welcomes. – I could weep
And I could laugh; I am light and heavy. – Welcome:
A curse begin at very root on's heart
That is not glad to see thee! – You are three
That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith of men,
We have some old crab trees here at home that will not
Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors.
We call a nettle but a nettle; and
The faults of fools but folly.
 

COMINIUS

 
Ever right.
 

CORIOLANUS

 
Menenius ever, ever.
 

HERALD

 
Give way there, and go on!
 

CORIOLANUS

[To his wife and mother.] Your hand, and yours:

 
Ere in our own house I do shade my head,
The good patricians must be visited;
From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings,
But with them change of honours.
 

VOLUMNIA

 
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.
 

CORIOLANUS

 
Know, good mother,
I had rather be their servant in my way
Than sway with them in theirs.
 

COMINIUS

 
On, to the Capitol.
 

[Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before. The tribunes remain.]

BRUTUS

 
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,
Clamb'ring the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks, windows,
Are smother'd up, leads fill'd and ridges hors'd
With variable complexions; all agreeing
In earnestness to see him: seld-shown flamens
Do press among the popular throngs, and puff
To win a vulgar station: our veil'd dames
Commit the war of white and damask, in
Their nicely gawded cheeks, to the wanton spoil
Of Phoebus' burning kisses; such a pother,
As if that whatsoever god who leads him
Were slily crept into his human powers,
And gave him graceful posture.
 

SICINIUS

 
On the sudden
I warrant him consul.
 

BRUTUS

 
Then our office may
During his power go sleep.
 

SICINIUS

 
He cannot temp'rately transport his honours
From where he should begin and end; but will
Lose those he hath won.
 

BRUTUS

 
In that there's comfort.
 

SICINIUS

 
Doubt not the commoners, for whom we stand,
But they, upon their ancient malice will forget,
With the least cause these his new honours; which
That he will give them make as little question
As he is proud to do't.
 

BRUTUS

 
I heard him swear,
Were he to stand for consul, never would he
Appear i' the market-place, nor on him put
The napless vesture of humility;
Nor, showing, as the manner is, his wounds
To the people, beg their stinking breaths.
 

SICINIUS

 
'Tis right.
 

BRUTUS

 
It was his word: O, he would miss it rather
Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him,
And the desire of the nobles.
 

SICINIUS

 
I wish no better
Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it
In execution.
 

BRUTUS

 
'Tis most like he will.
 

SICINIUS

 
It shall be to him then, as our good wills,
A sure destruction.
 

BRUTUS

 
So it must fall out
To him or our authorities. For an end,
We must suggest the people in what hatred
He still hath held them; that to's power he would
Have made them mules, silenc'd their pleaders, and
Dispropertied their freedoms; holding them,
In human action and capacity,
Of no more soul nor fitness for the world
Than camels in their war; who have their provand
Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows
For sinking under them.
 

SICINIUS

 
This, as you say, suggested
At some time when his soaring insolence
Shall touch the people, – which time shall not want,
If it be put upon't; and that's as easy
As to set dogs on sheep, – will be his fire
To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze
Shall darken him for ever.
 

[Enter A MESSENGER.]

BRUTUS

 
What's the matter?
 

MESSENGER

 
You are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis thought
That Marcius shall be consul:
I have seen the dumb men throng to see him, and
The blind to hear him speak: matrons flung gloves,
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers,
Upon him as he pass'd; the nobles bended
As to Jove's statue; and the commons made
A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts:
I never saw the like.
 

BRUTUS

 
Let's to the Capitol;
And carry with us ears and eyes for the time,
But hearts for the event.
 

SICINIUS

 
Have with you.
 

[Exeunt.]