Com.

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

Mar. Let him alone, He did inform the truth: But, for our gentlemen, The common file, (A plague!-Tribunes for them!) The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat, as they did budge From rascals worse than they,

Com. But how prevail'd you? Mar. Will the time serve to tell? I do not thinkWhere is the enemy? Are you lords o' the field? If not, why cease you till you are so? Com.

Marcius,

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

[side
Mar. How lies their battle? Know you on which
They have plac'd their men of trust?
Com.

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.

Mar.

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.

Com

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.

Mar.

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 dis-
And follow Marcius.
[position,

(They all shout, and wave their swords; take him in their arms, and cast their caps.) up up O me, alone! Make you a sword of me? If these shews 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 canse will be obey'd. Please you to march; And four shall quickly draw out my command, Which men are best inclin'd. March on, my fellows: Make good this ostentation, and you shall Divide in all with us. [Exeunt.

Com.

Halloo me like a hare,

Mar.

If I fly, Marcias,

Within these three hours, Tallas, Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, And made what work I pleas'd: "Tis not my blood, Wherein thou see'st me mask'd; for thy revenge, 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 Aufidins.)

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

Alarum.

[Exeunt fighting, driven in by Marcius. SCENE IX. The Roman Camp.

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. IfI should tell thee o'er this thy day's work, 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 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.

Com.

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.
Mar. I have some wounds upon me, and they
To hear themselves remember'd.
[smart
Should they not,

Com.

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.
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! Marcius! cast up their caps and lances: Cominius and Lartius stand bare.) Mar. May these same instruments, which you profane,

ACT II. SCENE 1.]

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
I say;
An overture for the wars! No more,
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.

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 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 CORIOI ANUS.-
Bear the addition nobly ever!

(Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums.)
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 you:-
I mean to stride your steed; and, at all times,
To undercrest your good addition,

To the fairness of my power.

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

Com.

I shall, my lord.

Take it: 'tis yours.-What is't?
Cor. I sometime lay, here in Corioli,
At a poor man's house; he us'd me kindly:
He cried to me; I saw him prisoner;
But then Aufidius was within my view,

And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you
To give my poor host freedom.
Com.

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

I am weary; yea, my memory is tir'd-
Have we no wine here?

Com.

:

By Jupiter, forgot :

Go we to our tent;

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

He's the devil.

you to the

I shall, sir. [Exeunt.

ACT II.

Bru. Good, or bad?

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 You blame Marcius pleasure to you, in being so. 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 infantlike, for doing much alone. You talk of pride; O, that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of could! your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O, that you 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 humourous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tyber 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 weals-men 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?

Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that: an he had staid 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? Vol. 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. [him. Val. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of Men. Wondrous? Ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing.

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

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'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 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: I will be bold to take my leave of you.

(Brutus and Sicinius 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?

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

Men. Ha! Marcius coming home?

Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosperous approbation.

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

Two Ladies. Nay, 'tis true.

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

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

Vir. Yes, certain, there's aletter for you: I saw it. Men. 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 empiricutio, 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 for't. Men. So do I too, if it be not too much:Brings 'a victory in his pocket?-The wounds become him.

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

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

Vol. I'the shoulder, and i'the left arm: There will be large cicatrices to shew 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, twentyfive wounds upon him.

Men. Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave: (a shout, and flourish.) Hark! the trumpets.

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

Look, sir, your mother,—

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

O!

(Kneels.)

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 gracious 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:-0 welcome

home;

And welcome, general;-And you are welcome all.

Men. A hundred thousand welcomes: I could

weep, [come: And I could laugh; I am light, and heavy: WelA 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 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.

Com.

Ever right.

To see inherited my very wishes,

At some time when his soaring insolence
Shall teach the people, (which time shall not want,
If he 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.

I have liv'd

Bru.

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. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before.
The Tribunes remain.

Bru. 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: 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-shewn 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.
Sic.

I warrant him consul.

Bru.

On the sudden,

Then our office may,

During his power, go sleep.
Sic. He cannot temperately transport his honours
From where he should begin, and end; but will
Lose those that he hath won.

Bru.
In that there's comfort.
Sic. Doubt not, the commoners, for whom we
But they, upon their ancient malice, will [stand,
Forget, with the least cause, these his new honours;
Which that he'll give them, make as little question
As 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 shewing (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 him, And the desire of the nobles.

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,
We must suggest the people, in what hatred
He still hath held them: that to his 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.
Sic.

This, as you say, suggested

Enter a Messenger.

What's the matter? Mess. 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: The matrons flung their gloves,
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs,
Upon him as he passed: 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.
Bru.
Let's to the Capitol,
And carry with us ears and eyes for the time,
But hearts for the event.
Sic.

Have with you. [Exeunt. The Capitol.

SCENE II.-The same.

Enter two Officers, to lay cushions.

1 Off. Come, come, they are almost here: How many stand for consulships?

2 Off. Three, they say: but 'tis thought of every one, Coriolanus will carry it.

1 Off. That's a brave fellow; but he's vengeance proud, and loves not the common people.

2 Off. 'Faith, there have been many great men that have 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 ground: Therefore, for Coriolanus neither to care whether they love or hate him, manifests the true knowledge he has in their disposition; and, out of his noble carelessness, let's them plainly see't.

1 Off. If he did not care whether he had their love, or no, he waved indifferently 'twixt doing them neither good, nor harm; but he seeks their hate with greater devotion than they can render it him; and leaves nothing undone, that may fully discover him their opposite. 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.

2 Off. He hath deserved worthily of his country: And his ascent is not by such easy degrees as those, who, having been supple and courteous to the people, bonnetted, without any further deed to heave them at all into their estimation and report; but he hath so planted his honours in their eyes, and his actions in their hearts, that for their tongues to be silent, and not confess so much, were a kind of ingrateful injury; to report otherwise, were a malice, that, giving itself the lie, would pluck reproof and rebuke from every ear that heard it.

1 Off. No more of him; he is a worthy man : Make way, they are coming.

A Sennet. Enter, with lictors before them, COMINIUS the Consul, MENENIUS, CORIOLANUS, many other Senators, SICINIUS and BRUTUS. The Senators take their places; the Tribunes take theirs also by themselves.

[you,

Men. Having determin'd of the Volces, and To send for Titus Lartius, it remains, As the main point of this our after-meeting, To gratify his noble service, that Hath thus stood for his country: Therefore, please 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 perform'd By Caius Marcius Coriolanus; whom We meet here, both to thank, and to remember With honours like himself.

Sir, I hope,

My words dis-bench'd you not.
Cor.
No, sir: yet oft,
When blows have made me stay, I fled from words.
You sooth'd not, therefore hurt not: But your
people,

I love them as they weigh.

Men. Pray now, sit down. Cor. I had rather have one scratch my head i'the When the alarum was struck, than idly sit [sun, To hear my nothings monster'd. [Exit. Men. Masters o'the people, Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter, (That's thousand to one good one,) when you now

see,

He had rather venture all his limbs for honour,
Than one of his ears to hear it?-Proceed, Comiuius.
Com. I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus
Should not be utter'd feebly.-It is held,
That valour is the chiefest virtue, and
Most dignifies the haver: if it be,
The man I speak of cannot in the world
Be singly counterpois'd. At sixteen years,
When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought
Beyond the mark of others: our then dictator,
Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight,
When with his Amazonian chin he drove
The bristled lips before him: he bestrid
An o'er-press'd Roman, and i'the consul's view
Slew three opposers: Tarquin's self be met,
And struck him on his knee: in that day's feats,
When he might act the woman in the scene,
He prov'd best man i'the field, and for his meed
Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age
Man-enter'd thus, he waxed like a sea;
And, in the brunt of seventeen battles since,
He lurch'd all swords o'the garland. For this last,
Before and in Corioli, let me say,

I cannot speak him home: He stopp'd the fliers;
And, by his rare example, made the coward
Turn terror into sport: as waves before
A vessel under sail, so men obey'd,
And fell below his stem: his sword (death's stamp)
Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot
He was a thing of blood, whose every motion
Was timed with dying cries: alone he enter'd
The mortal gate o'the city, which he painted
With shunless destiny, aidless came off,
And with a sudden reinforcement struck
Corioli, like a planet: Now all's his :

That you do speak to the people.
Cor.

I do beseech you,
Let me o'erleap that custom; for I cannot
Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them,
For my wounds' sake, to give their suffrage: please
That I
may pass this doing.
[you,
Sic.
Sir, the people
Must have their voices; neither will they bate
One jot of ceremony.
Men.
Put them not to't:-
Pray you, go fit you to the custom; and
Take to you, as your predecessors have,
Your honour with your form.
Cor.
It is a part
That I shall blush in acting, and might well
Be taken from the people.

Bru.
Mark you that?
Cor. To brag unto them,-Thus I did, and

thus;

Shew them the unaking scars, which I should hide,
As if I had receiv'd them for the hire
Of their breath only :-

Men.
Do not stand upon't.-
We recommend to you, tribunes of the people,
Our purpose to them;-and to our noble consul
Wish we all joy and honour.

Sen. To Coriolanus come all joy and honour!
[Flourish. Then exeunt Senators.
Bru. You see how he intends to use the people.
Sic. May they perceive his intent! He, that will
require them,

As if he did contemn what he requested
Should be in them to give.

Bru.

Come, we'll inform them Of our proceedings here: on the market-place, I know, they do attend us.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-The same. The Forum.

Enter several Citizens.

1 Cit. Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him.

2 Cit. We may, sir, if we will.

3 Cit. We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a power that we have no power to do: for if he shew us his wounds, and tell us his deeds, we are to put our tongues into those wounds, and speak for them; so, if he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is monstrous: and for the multitude to be ingrateful, were to make a monster of the multitude; of the which, we being members, should bring ourselves to be monstrous members.