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1 Sol. 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.

Lart. O noble fellow!

Who, sensible, outdares his senseless sword, And, when it bows,t 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
Were feverous and did tremble. [world
Re-enter MARCIUS bleeding, assaulted by the

1 Sol. Look, Sir.


Lart. "Tis Marcius:

Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike.

[They fight, and all enter the city. SCENE V.-Within the town.-A Street. Enter certain ROMANS, with spoils.

1 Rom. This I will carry to Rome. 2 Rom. And I this.


3 Rom. A murrain on't! I took this for sil[Alarum continues still afar off. Enter MARCIUS, and TITUS LARTIUS, with a trumpet.

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There is the man of my soul's hate, Anfidius, Piercing our Romans: Then, valiant Titus, take

Convenient numbers to make good the city; Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will To help Cominius.

Lart. Worthy Sir, thou bleed'st; Thy exercise hath been too violent for A second course of fight.

Mar. Sir, praise me not:



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

Lart. Now the fair goddess, Fortune, Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms [man, Misguide thy opposer's swords! Bold gentleProsperity be thy page!

Mar. Thy friend no less

Than those she placeth highest! So farewell.
Lart. Thou worthiest Marcius!-
Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place;
Call thither all the officers of the town,
Where they shall know our mind. Away.

SCENE VI.-Near the Camp of COMINIUS.
Enter COMINIUS and forces, retreating.
Com. Breathe you, my friends; well fought,
we are come off

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Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, Sirs, We shall be charg'd again. Whiles we have struck, [heard By interims, and conveying gusts, we have 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!-Thy news?
Mess. The citizens of Corioli have issued,
And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle:
saw our party to their trenches driven,
And then I came away.

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

Mess. Above an hour, my lord.

Com. 'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums:

How could'st thou in a mile confound an hour. And bring thy news so late?

Mess. Spies of the Volces

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.

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

Mar. O! let me clip you

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.

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

Mar. 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.


Com. Where is that slave, Which told me they had beat you to your Where is he? Call him hither.

Mar. Let him alone,


He did inform the truth: But for our gentleThe common file, (A plague!-Tribunes for them!) [budge

The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat, as they did From rascals worse than they.

Com. But how prevail'd you?

Mar. Will the time serve to tell? I do not



Where is the enemy? Are you lords o'the
If not, why cease you till you are so?
Com. Marcius,

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

Mar. How lies their battle? Know you on

which side

They have plac'd their men of trust?

• Expend.

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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 Volces? 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: 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.

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


Auf. If I fly, Marcius,

Halloo me like a hare.

Mar. Within these three hours, Tullus,
Alone I fought in your Corioli walls,
And made what work I pleas'd; 'Tis not my
Wherein thou seest me mask'd; for thy re-
Wrench up thy power to the highest.
Auf. Wert thou the Hector,
That was the whip* of your bragg'd progeny,
Thou should'st not scape me here.-

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

Officious, and not valiant-you have sham'd
In your condemned seconds.+
[Exeunt fighting, driven in by MARCIUS.
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.

Com. If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's


Thou'lt 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

And, gladly quak'd,t hear more; where the
That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine ho-
dull Tribunes,


Shall say, against their hearts-We thank the
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

Lart. O general,

Here is the steed, we the caparison;
Hadst thou beheld-

Mar. Pray now, no more: my mother, Who has a charter to extol her blood, SCENE VII.-The Gates of Corioli. When she does praise me, grieves me. I have done, TITUS LARTIUS, having set a guard upon Corioli, As you have done; that's what I can; induc'd going with a drum and trumpet toward Co-As you have been; that's for my country: MINIUS and CAIUS MARCIUS, enters with a He, that has but effected his good will, LIEUTENANT, a party of soldiers, and a scout. Hath overta'en mine act.

Lart. 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.

Lieu. Fear not our care, Sir.
Lart. Hence, and shut your gates upon us.-
Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct
SCENE_VIII.-A field of battle between the
Roman and the Volcian Camps.


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Com. You shall not be

The grave of your deserving; Rome must know

Worse than a theft, no less than a traduce

The value of her own: 'twere a concealment


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
(In sign of what you are, not to reward [you,
What you have done,) before our army hear

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Before the common distribution, at
Your only choice.

Mar. 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! Mar

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SCENE X.-The Camp of Volces.

cius! cast up their caps and lances: COMI- A Flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, NIUS and LARTIUS stand bare.

Mar. May these same instruments, which

you profane,


Neversound more! When drums and trumpets
I'the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities
Made all of false-fac'd soothing: When steel
Soft as the parasite's silk, let him be made
An overture 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, with-
out note,

Here's many else have done,-you shout me
In acclamations hyperbolical;
As if I loved my little should be dieted
In praises sauc'd with lies.

Com. 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



(Like one that means his propert harm,) in 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


My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him,
With all his trim belonging; and, from this

For what he did before Corioli, call him,
With all the applause and clamour of the host,
Bear the addition nobly ever!

bloody, with two or three SOLDIERS.

Auf. The town is ta'en!

1 Sol. "Twill be delivered back on good condition.

beat me;

Being a Volce, be that I am.-Condition!
Auf. Condition?-
I would, I were a Roman; for I cannot,
I have fought with thee; so often hast thou
What good condition can a treaty find
I'the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius,
And would'st do so, I think, should we en-
As often as we eat.-By the elements,
If e'er again I meet him beard to beard,
He is 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 potcht at him some
Or wrath, or craft, may get him. [way;

1 Sol. He's the devil.

Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle: My val-
With only suffering stain by him; for him
our's poison'd,
Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep, nor sanctuary,
Being naked, sick: nor fane, nor Capitol,
The prayers
Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up
of priests, nor times of sacrifice,
Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst
My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it
At home, upon my brother's guard, even

Against the hospitable canon, would I
Wash my fierce hand in his heart. Go you to
the city;

[Flourish. Trumpets sound, and Drums. Learn, how 'tis held; and what they are, that

All. Caius Marcius Coriolanus!

Cor. I will go wash;

And when my face is fair, you shall perceive
Whether I blush, or no: Howbeit, I thank


I mean to stride your steed; and, at all times,
To undercrest your good addition,
To the fairness of my power.

Com. 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.

Lart. I shall, my lord.

Cor. The gods begin to mock me. I that


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

Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.

Men. Pray you, who does the wolf love?
Sic. The lamb.

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

Bru. He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear.

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


Add more by doing his best.
Enter into articles.

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Both Trib. Well, Sir.

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

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

Sic. Especially, in pride.

Bru. And topping all others in boasting. Men. 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 Trib. Why, how are we censured? Men. Because you talk of pride now,-Will you not be angry?

Both Trib. Well, well, Sir, well.

Men. Why 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience: give your disposition 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? Bru. We do it not alone, Sir.

Men. 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 towards the napes* of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O, that you could!

Bru. What then, Sir?

Men. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates, (alias, fools,) as any in Rome.

Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough too.

Men. I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tybert 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 wealst-men as you are, (I cannot call you Lycurguses) if the drink you gave 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 mycrocosm, follows it, that I am known well enough too? What harm can your bisson || conspectuities glean out of this character, if be known well enough too?

Bru. Come, Sir, come, we know you well enough.

Men. You know neither me, yourselves, nor any thing. 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 three-pence to a second day of audience.-When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you chance to be pinched with the cholic, you make faces like mummers; set up the bloody flag against all patience; and, in roaring for a chamberpot, 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. * Back. + Water of the Tiber. 1 Whole man. Il Blind.

↑ States. Obeisance.

Bru. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table, than a necessary bencher in the Capitol.

Men. 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' pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors, since Deucalion; though, perad-, venture, some of the best of them were hereditary hangmen. Good e'en to your worships; more of your conversation would infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians: 1 will be bold to take my leave of you.

[BRU. and SIC. retire to the back of the Scene. Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and 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?

approaches; for the love of Juno, let's go. Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius Men. Ha! Marcius coming home? Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosperous approbation.

thee:-Hoo! Marcius coming home? Men. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank

Two Ladies. Nay, 'tis true.

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

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

Vir. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw it.

of seven years' health; in which time I will Men. A letter for me? It gives me an estate 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.

Vir. O, no, no, no.

Vol. O, he is wounded, I thank the gods


Brings 'a victory in his pocket?-The wounds
Men. So do I too, if it be not too much:-
become him.

third time home with the oaken garland.
Vol. On's brows, Menenius: he comes the

Men. Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly? Vol. Titus Lartius writes,--they fought together, but Aufidius got off.

Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant have been so fidiused for all the chests in Cohim that: an he had staid by him, I would not rioli, and the gold that's in them. Is the senate possessed of this?

the senate has letters from the general, wherein
Vol. Good ladies, let's go :-Yes, yes, yes:
he gives my son the whole name of the war:
he hath in this action outdone his former deeds

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

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

Vir. The gods grant them true!
Vol. True? pow, wow.

Men. True? I'll be sworn they are true:

* Fully informed.

Where is he wounded?-God save your good f worships! [To the Tribunes, who come forward.] Marcius is coming home: he has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded?

Vol. 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.

Men. One in the neck, and two in the thigh,there's nine that I know.

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

Men. Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave: [Å Shout, and Flourish.] Hark! the trumpets.

Vol. These are the ushers of Marcius: before him [tears; He carries noise, and behind him he leaves 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, Soldiers, and a Herald.

Her. 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!

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

Com. Look, Sir, your mother,

Cor. O!

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

Vol. 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.-

Cor. My gracioust silence, hail! Would'st 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.

Men. Now the gods crown thee! Cor. And live you yet?-O my sweet lady, pardon. [To VALERIA. Vol. I know not where to turn:-O welcome home; And welcome, general;-And you are welcome all.

Men. A hundred thousand welcomes: I could weep, [Welcome: And I could laugh; I am light, and heavy: A curse begin at very root of his heart, That is not glad to see thee!-You are three, That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith

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Cor. Your hand, and yours:

[To his Wife and Mother.
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 honours.
Vol. I have lived

To see inherited my very wishes,
And the buildings of my fancy: only there
Is one thing wanting, which I doubt not, but
Our Rome will cast upon thee.

Cor. Know, good mother,

I had rather be their servant in my way,
Than sway with them in theirs.
Com. On, to the Capitol.

[Flourish. Coronets. Exeunt in state, as before. The Tribunes remain. Bru. All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights

Are spectacled to see him: Your pratling nurse Into a rapture lets her baby cry,

While she chats him: the kitchen malkint pins
Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks,
Her richest lockram; 'bout her reechy neck.

Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges hors'd
With variable complexions; all agreeing
In earnestness to see him: seld-shown fla-

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

Of Phoebus' burning kisses: such a pother,
As if that whatsoever god, who leads him,
Were slyly crept into his human powers,
And gave him graceful posture.

Sic. On the sudden,

I warrant him consul.

Bru. Then our office may, During his power, go sleep.

Sic. He cannot temperately transport his


[will From where he should begin, and end; but Lose those that he hath won.

Bru. In that there's comfort.

Sic. Doubt not, the commoners, for whom we stand,

But they, upon their ancient malice, will Forget, with the least cause, these his new honours; [tion Which that he'll give them, make as little quesAs he is proud to do't.

Bru. 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. Sic. "Tis right.

Bru. It was his word : O, he would miss it, rather

Than carry it, but by the suit o'the gentry to And the desire of the nobles. [him,

Sic. I wish no better,

Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it In execution.

Bru. 'Tis most like, he will.

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

Bru. So it must fall out

To him, or our authorities. For an end,

* Fit. + Maid. ↑ Best linen.


** Common standing-place.

sweat and smoke.

+ Graceful.

+ Thread-bare.

3 Soiled with


+ Adorned

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