| ACT II SCENE I. Rome. A public place. |
| [
Enter MENENIUS with the two Tribunes of the people,
SICINIUS and BRUTUS.
] |
| MENENIUS | The augurer tells me we shall have news to-night. |
| 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. | 5 |
| 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 baes like a bear. | 10 |
| 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 | Well, sir. |
| MENENIUS | In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two |
| have not in abundance? | 15 |
| 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 | 20 |
| right-hand file? do you? |
| Both | Why, how are we censured? |
| MENENIUS | Because you talk of pride now,--will you not be angry? |
| Both | Well, well, sir, well. |
| MENENIUS | Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of | 25 |
| 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? | 30 |
| 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 | 35 |
| could turn your eyes toward the napes of your necks, |
| and make but an interior survey of your good selves! |
| O that you could! |
| BRUTUS | What then, sir? |
| MENENIUS | Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, | 40 |
| 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 | 45 |
| 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 | 50 |
| 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 can't say your worships have |
| delivered the matter well, when I find the ass in | 55 |
| 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 you have good faces. If you see this in |
| the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known | 60 |
| well enough too? what barm 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 any thing. You | 65 |
| 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 | 70 |
| 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 | 75 |
| 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 | 80 |
| 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 | 85 |
| 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 predecessors |
| since Deucalion, though peradventure some of the | 90 |
| 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 go aside] |
[Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and VALERIA] |
| How now, my as fair as noble ladies,--and the moon, | 95 |
| 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! | 100 |
| VOLUMNIA | Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosperous |
| approbation. |
| MENENIUS | Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee. Hoo! |
| Marcius coming home! |
| VIRGILIA | Nay,'tis true. | 105 |
| 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 tonight: a letter for |
| me! | 110 |
| VIRGILIA | Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw't. |
| 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, | 115 |
| 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' | 120 |
| 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 | 125 |
| 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? | 130 |
| 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. | 135 |
| 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. | 140 |
| Where is he wounded? |
[To the Tribunes] |
| 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 | 145 |
| 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 | 150 |
| 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: | 155 |
| Death, that dark spirit, in 's nervy arm doth lie; |
| Which, being advanced, declines, and then men die. |
| [
A sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter COMINIUS the
general, 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 | 160 |
| 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. | 165 |
| 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; | 170 |
| My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and |
| By deed-achieving honour newly named,-- |
| What is it?--Coriolanus must I call thee?-- |
| But O, thy wife! |
| CORIOLANUS | My gracious silence, hail! | 175 |
| Wouldst thou have laugh'd had I come coffin'd home, |
| That weep'st to see me triumph? Ay, my dear, |
| Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear, |
| And mothers that lack sons. |
| MENENIUS | Now, the gods crown thee! | 180 |
| 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 ye're welcome all. |
| MENENIUS | A hundred thousand welcomes. I could weep | 185 |
| 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 | 190 |
| 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. | 195 |
| CORIOLANUS | Menenius ever, ever. |
| Herald | Give way there, and go on! |
| CORIOLANUS | [To VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA] Your hand, and yours:
|
| Ere in our own house I do shade my head, |
| The good patricians must be visited; | 200 |
| From whom I have received 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 | 205 |
| 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. | 210 |
| COMINIUS | On, to the Capitol! |
| [
Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before.
BRUTUS and SICINIUS come forward
] |
| 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 | 215 |
| 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 horsed |
| With variable complexions, all agreeing |
| In earnestness to see him: seld-shown flamens | 220 |
| Do press among the popular throngs and puff |
| To win a vulgar station: or 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 | 225 |
| 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. | 230 |
| BRUTUS | Then our office may, |
| During his power, go sleep. |
| SICINIUS | He cannot temperately transport his honours |
| From where he should begin and end, but will |
| Lose those he hath won. | 235 |
| 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 | 240 |
| That he will give them make I 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 | 245 |
| 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 | 250 |
| 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. | 255 |
| 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, | 260 |
| We must suggest the people in what hatred |
| He still hath held them; that to's power he would |
| Have made them mules, silenced their pleaders and |
| Dispropertied their freedoms, holding them, |
| In human action and capacity, | 265 |
| Of no more soul nor fitness for the world |
| Than camels in the war, who have their provand |
| Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows |
| For sinking under them. |
| SICINIUS | This, as you say, suggested | 270 |
| At some time when his soaring insolence |
| Shall touch 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 | 275 |
| 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 | 280 |
| The blind to bear 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: | 285 |
| 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. | 290 |
| [Exeunt] |
Shakespeare's Sources for Coriolanus