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The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works

Page 101

by William Shakespeare


  100

  For such things as you, I can scarce think there’s any,

  y’are so slight. He that hath a will to die by himself,

  fears it not from another: let your general do his worst.

  For you, be that you are, long; and your misery

  increase with your age! I say to you, as I was said to,

  105

  Away! Exit.

  1 WATCH A noble fellow, I warrant him.

  2 WATCH The worthy fellow is our general: he’s the

  rock, the oak not to be wind-shaken. Exeunt.

  5.3 Enter CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS with others.

  CORIOLANUS

  We will before the walls of Rome tomorrow

  Set down our host. My partner in this action,

  You must report to th’ Volscian lords how plainly

  I have borne this business.

  AUFIDIUS Only their ends

  You have respected, stopp’d your ears against

  5

  The general suit of Rome: never admitted

  A private whisper, no, not with such friends

  That thought them sure of you.

  CORIOLANUS This last old man,

  Whom with a crack’d heart I have sent to Rome,

  Lov’d me above the measure of a father,

  10

  Nay, godded me indeed. Their latest refuge

  Was to send him; for whose old love I have

  (Though I show’d sourly to him) once more offer’d

  The first conditions, which they did refuse

  And cannot now accept, to grace him only

  15

  That thought he could do more. A very little

  I have yielded to. Fresh embassies and suits,

  Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafter

  Will I lend ear to. [Shout within.]

  Ha! what shout is this?

  Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow

  20

  In the same time ’tis made? I will not.

  Enter VIRGILIA, VOLUMNIA, VALERIA, YOUNG MARTIUS, with attendants.

  My wife comes foremost; then the honour’d mould

  Wherein this trunk was fram’d, and in her hand

  The grandchild to her blood. But out, affection!

  All bond and privilege of nature break!

  25

  Let it be virtuous to be obstinate.

  What is that curtsy worth? or those doves’ eyes,

  Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not

  Of stronger earth than others. My mother bows,

  As if Olympus to a molehill should

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  In supplication nod; and my young boy

  Hath an aspect of intercession which

  Great nature cries, ‘Deny not’. Let the Volsces

  Plough Rome and harrow Italy; I’ll never

  Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand

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  As if a man were author of himself

  And knew no other kin.

  VIRGILIA My lord and husband!

  CORIOLANUS

  These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome.

  VIRGILIA The sorrow that delivers us thus chang’d

  Makes you think so.

  CORIOLANUS Like a dull actor now

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  I have forgot my part and I am out,

  Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh,

  Forgive my tyranny; but do not say,

  For that ‘Forgive our Romans’. O, a kiss

  Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge!

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  Now by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss

  I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip

  Hath virgin’d it e’er since. You gods! I prate,

  And the most noble mother of the world

  Leave unsaluted. Sink, my knee, i’th’ earth: [Kneels.]

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  Of thy deep duty more impression show

  Than that of common sons.

  VOLUMNIA Oh, stand up bless’d!

  Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint,

  I kneel before thee, and unproperly

  Show duty as mistaken all this while

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  Between the child and parent. [Kneels.]

  CORIOLANUS What’s this?

  Your knees to me? to your corrected son?

  Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach

  Fillip the stars. Then let the mutinous winds

  Strike the proud cedars ’gainst the fiery sun,

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  Murd’ring impossibility, to make

  What cannot be, slight work!

  VOLUMNIA Thou art my warrior:

  I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady?

  CORIOLANUS The noble sister of Publicola,

  The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle

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  That’s curdied by the frost from purest snow

  And hangs on Dian’s temple! Dear Valeria!

  VOLUMNIA This is a poor epitome of yours,

  Which by th’interpretation of full time

  May show like all yourself.

  CORIOLANUS The god of soldiers,

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  With the consent of supreme Jove, inform

  Thy thoughts with nobleness, that thou mayst prove

  To shame unvulnerable, and stick i’th’ wars

  Like a great sea-mark standing every flaw

  And saving those that eye thee!

  VOLUMNIA Your knee, sirrah.

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  CORIOLANUS That’s my brave boy!

  VOLUMNIA Even he, your wife, this lady and myself

  Are suitors to you.

  CORIOLANUS I beseech you, peace!

  Or, if you’d ask, remember this before:

  The thing I have forsworn to grant may never

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  Be held by you denials. Do not bid me

  Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate

  Again with Rome’s mechanics. Tell me not

  Wherein I seem unnatural. Desire not

  T’allay my rages and revenges with

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  Your colder reasons.

  VOLUMNIA Oh, no more, no more!

  You have said you will not grant us anything:

  For we have nothing else to ask but that

  Which you deny already. Yet we will ask,

  That if you fail in our request, the blame

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  May hang upon your hardness: therefore hear us.

  CORIOLANUS

  Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark; for we’ll

  Hear nought from Rome in private. Your request?

  VOLUMNIA

  Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment

  And state of bodies would bewray what life

  95

  We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself

  How more unfortunate than all living women

  Are we come hither; since that thy sight, which

  should

  Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with

  comforts,

  Constrains them weep, and shake with fear and

  sorrow,

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  Making the mother, wife and child to see

  The son, the husband and the father, tearing

  His country’s bowels out. And to poor we

  Thine enmity’s most capital. Thou barr’st us

  Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort

  105

  That all but we enjoy; for how can we,

  Alas! how can we for our country pray,

  Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory,

  Whereto we are bound? Alack, or we must lose

  The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person,

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  Our comfort in the country. We must find

  An evident calamity, though we had

  Our wish, which side should win: for either thou

  Must as a foreig
n recreant be led

  With manacles through our streets, or else

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  Triumphantly tread on thy country’s ruin,

  And bear the palm for having bravely shed

  Thy wife and children’s blood. For myself, son,

  I purpose not to wait on fortune till

  These wars determine. If I cannot persuade thee

  120

  Rather to show a noble grace to both parts,

  Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner

  March to assault thy country than to tread –

  Trust to’t, thou shalt not – on thy mother’s womb

  That brought thee to this world.

  VIRGILIA Ay, and mine,

  125

  That brought you forth this boy to keep your name

  Living to time.

  YOUNG MARTIUS A shall not tread on me.

  I’ll run away till I am bigger, but then I’ll fight.

  CORIOLANUS Not of a woman’s tenderness to be,

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  Requires nor child nor woman’s face to see.

  I have sat too long. [rising]

  VOLUMNIA Nay, go not from us thus.

  If it were so that our request did tend

  To save the Romans, thereby to destroy

  135

  The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us

  As poisonous of your honour. No, our suit

  Is that you reconcile them: while the Volsces

  May say, ‘This mercy we have show’d’, the Romans,

  ‘This we receiv’d’; and each in either side

  140

  Give the all-hail to thee, and cry, ‘Be bless’d

  For making up this peace!’ Thou know’st, great son,

  The end of war’s uncertain, but this certain,

  That if thou conquer Rome, the benefit

  Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name

  145

  Whose repetition will be dogg’d with curses,

  Whose chronicle thus writ: ‘The man was noble,

  But with his last attempt he wip’d it out,

  Destroy’d his country, and his name remains

  To th’insuing age abhorr’d.’ Speak to me, son:

  150

  Thou has affected the fine strains of honour,

  To imitate the graces of the gods,

  To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o’th’ air,

  And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt

  That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak?

  155

  Think’st thou it honourable for a noble man

  Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speak you:

  He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy:

  Perhaps thy childishness will move him more

  Than can our reasons. There’s no man in the world

  160

  More bound to’s mother, yet here he lets me prate

  Like one i’th’ stocks. Thou hast never in thy life

  Show’d thy dear mother any courtesy,

  When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood,

  Has cluck’d thee to the wars, and safely home,

  165

  Loaden with honour. Say my request’s unjust,

  And spurn me back; but if it be not so,

  Thou art not honest, and the gods will plague thee

  That thou restrain’st from me the duty which

  To a mother’s part belongs. He turns away.

  170

  Down ladies: let us shame him with our knees.

  To his surname Coriolanus longs more pride

  Than pity to our prayers. Down! an end:

  This is the last. So, we will home to Rome

  And die among our neighbours. Nay, behold’s,

  175

  This boy that cannot tell what he would have,

  But kneels, and holds up hands for fellowship,

  Does reason our petition with more strength

  Than thou hast to deny’t. Come, let us go:

  This fellow had a Volscian to his mother;

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  His wife is in Corioles, and his child

  Like him by chance. Yet give us our dispatch:

  I am husht until our city be afire,

  And then I’ll speak a little.

  CORIOLANUS [Holds her by the hand silent.]

  O mother, mother!

  185

  What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope,

  The gods look down, and this unnatural scene

  They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O!

  You have won a happy victory to Rome;

  But for your son, believe it, O, believe it,

  190

  Most dangerously you have with him prevail’d,

  If not most mortal to him. But let it come.

  Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars,

 

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