The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  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

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

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

  Showed thy dear mother any courtesy,

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

  Has clucked thee to the wars and safely home,

  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.

  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.The ladies and Young Martius kneel

  So we will home to Rome,

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

  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.

  His wife is in Codoles, and this child

  Like him by chance.—Yet give us our dispatch.

  I am hushed until our city be afire,

  And then I’ll speak a little.

  He holds her by the hand, silent

  CORIOLANUS

  O mother, mother!

  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,

  Most dangerously you have with him prevailed,

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

  ⌈The ladies and Young Martius rise⌉

  Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars,

  I’ll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius,

  Were you in my stead would you have heard

  A mother less, or granted less, Aufidius?

  AUFIDIUS

  I was moved withal.

  CORIOLANUS

  I dare be sworn you were.

  And, sir, it is no little thing to make

  Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir,

  What peace you’ll make, advise me. For my part,

  I’ll not to Rome; I’ll back with you, and pray you

  Stand to me in this cause.—O mother! Wife!

  AUFIDIUS (aside)

  I am glad thou hast set thy mercy and thy honour

  At difference in thee. Out of that I’ll work

  Myself a former fortune.

  CORIOLANUS (to Volumnia and Virgilia) Ay, by and by.

  But we will drink together, and you shall bear

  A better witness back than words, which we

  On like conditions will have counter-sealed.

  Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve

  To have a temple built you. All the swords

  In Italy, and her confederate arms,

  Could not have made this peace.

  Exeunt

  5.4 Enter Menenius and Sicinius

  MENENIUS See you yon coign o’th’ Capitol, yon corner-stone?

  SICINIUS Why, what of that?

  MENENIUS If it be possible for you to displace it with your little finger, there is some hope the ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. But I say there is no hope in’t, our throats are sentenced and stay upon execution.

  SICINIUS Is’t possible that so short a time can alter the condition of a man?

  MENENIUS There is differency between a grub and a butterfly, yet your butterfly was a grub. This Martius is grown from man to dragon. He has wings, he’s more than a creeping thing.

  SICINIUS He loved his mother dearly.

  MENENIUS So did he me, and he no more remembers his mother now than an eight-year old horse. The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes. When he walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground shrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corslet with his eye, talks like a knell, and his ‘hmh!’ is a battery. He sits in his state as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done is finished with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but eternity and a heaven to throne in.

  SICINIUS Yes: mercy, if you report him truly.

  MENENIUS I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his mother shall bring from him. There is no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male tiger. That shall our poor city find; and all this is ’long of you. SICINIUS The gods be good unto us!

  VIENENIUS No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us. When we banished him we respected not them, and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us.

  Enter a Messenger

  MESSENGER (to Sicinius)

  Sir, if you’d save your life, fly to your house.

  The plebeians have got your fellow tribune

  And hale him up and down, all swearing if

  The Roman ladies bring not comfort home

  They’ll give him death by inches.

  Enter another Messenger

  SICINIUS

  What’s the news?

  SECOND MESSENGER

  Good news, good news. The ladies have prevailed,

  The Volscians are dislodged, and Martius gone.

  A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,

  No, not th’expulsion of the Tarquins.

  SICINIUS

  Friend,

  Art thou certain this is true? Is’t most certain?

  SECOND MESSENGER

  As certain as I know the sun is fire.

  Where have you lurked that you make doubt of it?

  Ne’er through an arch so hurried the blown tide

  As the recomforted through th’ gates.

  Trumpets, hautboys, drums, beat all together

  Why, hark you,

  The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes,

  Tabors and cymbals and the shouting Romans

  Make the sun dance.

  A shout within

  Hark you!

  MENENIUS

  This is good news.

  I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia

  Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians,

  A city full; of tribunes such as you,

  A sea and land full. You have prayed well today.

  This morning for ten thousand of your throats

  I’d not have given a doit.

  Music sounds still with the shouts

  Hark how they joy!

  SICINIUS (to the Messenger)

  First, the gods bless you for your tidings. Next,

  ⌈Giving money⌉ Accept my thankfulness.

  SECOND MESSENGER

  Sir, we have all great cause to give great thanks.

  SICINIUS

  They are near the city.

  SECOND MESSENGER Almost at point to enter.

  SICINIUS We’ll meet them, and help the joy.

  Exeunt

  5.5 Enter ⌈at one door⌉ Lords ⌈and Citizens⌉, ⌈at another door⌉ two Senators with the ladies Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria, passing over the stage

  A SENATOR

  Behold our patroness, the life of Rome!

  Call all your tribes together, praise the gods,

  And make triumphant fires. Strew flowers before them.

  Unshout the noise that banished Martius,

  Repeal him with the welcome of his mother.

  Cry ‘Welcome, ladies, welcome!’

  ALL

  Welcome, ladies, welcome!

  A flourish with drums and trumpets. Exeunt

  5.6 Enter Tullus A
ufidius with attendants

  AUFIDIUS

  Go tell the lords o‘th’ city I am here.

  Deliver them this paper. Having read it,

  Bid them repair to th’ market-place, where I,

  Even in theirs and in the commons’ ears,

  Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse

  The city ports by this hath entered, and

  Intends t’appear before the people, hoping

  To purge himself with words. Dispatch.

  Exeunt attendants

  Enter three or four Conspirators of Aufidius’ faction

  Most welcome.

  FIRST CONSPIRATOR

  How is it with our general?

  AUFIDIUS Even so

  As with a man by his own alms impoisoned,

  And with his charity slain.

  SECOND CONSPIRATOR Most noble sir,

  If you do hold the same intent wherein

  You wished us parties, we’ll deliver you

  Of your great danger.

  AUFIDIUS

  Sir, I cannot tell.

  We must proceed as we do find the people.

  THIRD CONSPIRATOR

  The people will remain uncertain whilst

  ’Twixt you there’s difference, but the fall of either

  Makes the survivor heir of all.

  AUFIDIUS

  I know it,

  And my pretext to strike at him admits

  A good construction. I raised him, and I pawned

  Mine honour for his truth; who being so heightened,

  He watered his new plants with dews of flattery,

  Seducing so my friends; and to this end

  He bowed his nature, never known before

  But to be rough, unswayable, and free.

  THIRD CONSPIRATOR Sir, his stoutness

  When he did stand for consul, which he lost

  By lack of stooping—

  AUFIDIUS

  That I would have spoke of.

  Being banished for’t, he came unto my hearth,

  Presented to my knife his throat. I took him,

  Made him joint-servant with me, gave him way

  In all his own desires; nay, let him choose

  Out of my files, his projects to accomplish,

  My best and freshest men; served his designments

  In mine own person, holp to reap the fame

  Which he did end all his, and took some pride

  To do myself this wrong, till at the last

  I seemed his follower, not partner, and

  He waged me with his countenance as if

  I had been mercenary.

  FIRST CONSPIRATOR

  So he did, my lord.

  The army marvelled at it, and in the last,

  When he had carried Rome and that we looked

  For no less spoil than glory—

  AUFIDIUS

  There was it,

  For which my sinews shall be stretched upon him.

  At a few drops of women’s rheum, which are

  As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour

  Of our great action; therefore shall he die,

  And I’ll renew me in his fall.

  Drums and trumpets sound, with great shouts of the people

  But hark.

  FIRST CONSPIRATOR

  Your native town you entered like a post,

  And had no welcomes home; but he returns

  Splitting the air with noise.

  SECOND CONSPIRATOR And patient fools,

  Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear

  With giving him glory.

  THIRD CONSPIRATOR Therefore, at your vantage,

  Ere he express himself or move the people

  With what he would say, let him feel your sword,

  Which we will second. When he lies along,

  After your way his tale pronounced shall bury

  His reasons with his body.

  Enter the Lords of the city

  AUFIDIUS

  Say no more.

  Here come the lords.

  ALL THE LORDS You are most welcome home.

  AUFIDIUS I have not deserved it.

  But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused

  What I have written to you?

  ALL THE LORDS

  We have.

  FIRST LORD

  And grieve to hear’t.

  What faults he made before the last, I think

  Might have found easy fines. But there to end

  Where he was to begin, and give away

  The benefit of our levies, answering us

  With our own charge, making a treaty where

  There was a yielding—this admits no excuse.

  AUFIDIUS He approaches. You shall hear him.

  Enter Coriolanus marching with drum and colours, the Commoners being with him

  CORIOLANUS

  Hail, lords! I am returned your soldier,

  No more infected with my country’s love

  Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting

  Under your great command. You are to know

  That prosperously I have attempted, and

  With bloody passage led your wars even to

  The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home

  Doth more than counterpoise a full third part

  The charges of the action. We have made peace

  With no less honour to the Antiates

  Than shame to th’ Romans. And we here deliver,

  Subscribed by th’ consuls and patricians,

  Together with the seal o’th’ senate, what

  We have compounded on.

  He gives the Lords a paper

  AUFIDIUS

  Read it not, noble lords,

  But tell the traitor in the highest degree

  He hath abused your powers.

  CORIOLANUS Traitor? How now?

  AUFIDIUS Ay, traitor, Martius.

  CORIOLANUS Martius?

  AUFIDIUS

  Ay, Martius, Caius Martius. Dost thou think

  I’ll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol’n name,

  ‘Coriolanus’, in Corioles?

  You lords and heads o‘th’ state, perfidiously

  He has betrayed your business, and given up,

  For certain drops of salt, your city, Rome—

  I say your city—to his wife and mother,

  Breaking his oath and resolution like

  A twist of rotten silk, never admitting

  Counsel o’th’ war. But at his nurse’s tears

  He whined and roared away your victory,

  That pages blushed at him, and men of heart

  Looked wond’ring each at others.

  CORIOLANUS

  Hear’st thou, Mars?

  AUFIDIUS

  Name not the god, thou boy of tears.

  CORIOLANUS Ha?

  AUFIDIUS

  No more.

  CORIOLANUS

  Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart

  Too great for what contains it. ‘Boy’? O slave!—

  Pardon me, lords, ’tis the first time that ever

  I was forced to scold. Your judgements, my grave lords,

  Must give this cur the lie, and his own notion—

  Who wears my stripes impressed upon him, that

  Must bear my beating to his grave—shall join

  To thrust the lie unto him.

  FIRST LORD

  Peace both, and hear me speak.

  CORIOLANUS

  Cut me to pieces, Volsces. Men and lads,

  Stain all your edges on me. ‘Boy’! False hound,

  If you have writ your annals true, ‘tis there

  That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I

  Fluttered your Volscians in Corioles.

  Alone I did it. ‘Boy’!

  AUFIDIUS

  Why, noble lords,

  Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune,

  Which was your shame
, by this unholy braggart,

  Fore your own eyes and ears?

  ALL THE CONSPIRATORS

  Let him die for’t.

  ALL THE PEOPLE ⌈shouting dispersedly⌉

  Tear him to pieces! Do it presently!

  He killed my son! My daughter! He killed my cousin

  Marcus! He killed my father!

  SECOND LORD

  Peace, ho! No outrage, peace.

  The man is noble, and his fame folds in

  This orb o’th’ earth. His last offences to us

  Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius,

  And trouble not the peace.

  CORIOLANUS ⌈drawing his sword⌉

  O that I had him with six Aufidiuses,

  Or more, his tribe, to use my lawful sword!

  AUFIDIUS ⌈drawing his sword⌉

  Insolent villain!

  ALL THE CONSPIRATORS Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him!

  Two Conspirators draw and kill Martius, who falls. Aufidius ⌈and Conspirators⌉ stand on him

  LORDS

  Hold, hold, hold, hold!

  AUFIDIUS

  My noble masters, hear me speak.

  FIRST LORD

  O Tullus!

  SECOND LORD (to Aufidius)

  Thou hast done a deed whereat

  Valour will weep.

  THIRD LORD ⌈to Aufidius and the Conspirators⌉

  Tread not upon him, masters.

  All be quiet. Put up your swords.

  AUFIDIUS My lords,

  When you shall know—as in this rage

  Provoked by him you cannot—the great danger

  Which this man’s life did owe you, you’ll rejoice

  That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours

  To call me to your senate, I’ll deliver

  Myself your loyal servant, or endure

  Your heaviest censure.

  FIRST LORD Bear from hence his body,

  And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded

  As the most noble corpse that ever herald

  Did follow to his urn.

  SECOND LORD His own impatience

  Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.

  Let’s make the best of it.

  AUFIDIUS

  My rage is gone,

  And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up.

  Help three o’th’ chiefest soldiers; I’ll be one.

  Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully.