Complete Plays, The

by William Shakespeare

  To better vantage.

  Menenius

  Well said, noble woman?

  Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but that

  The violent fit o’ the time craves it as physic

  For the whole state, I would put mine armour on,

  Which I can scarcely bear.

  Coriolanus

  What must I do?

  Menenius

  Return to the tribunes.

  Coriolanus

  Well, what then? what then?

  Menenius

  Repent what you have spoke.

  Coriolanus

  For them! I cannot do it to the gods;

  Must I then do’t to them?

  Volumnia

  You are too absolute;

  Though therein you can never be too noble,

  But when extremities speak. I have heard you say,

  Honour and policy, like unsever’d friends,

  I’ the war do grow together: grant that, and tell me,

  In peace what each of them by the other lose,

  That they combine not there.

  Coriolanus

  Tush, tush!

  Menenius

  A good demand.

  Volumnia

  If it be honour in your wars to seem

  The same you are not, which, for your best ends,

  You adopt your policy, how is it less or worse,

  That it shall hold companionship in peace

  With honour, as in war, since that to both

  It stands in like request?

  Coriolanus

  Why force you this?

  Volumnia

  Because that now it lies you on to speak

  To the people; not by your own instruction,

  Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you,

  But with such words that are but rooted in

  Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables

  Of no allowance to your bosom’s truth.

  Now, this no more dishonours you at all

  Than to take in a town with gentle words,

  Which else would put you to your fortune and

  The hazard of much blood.

  I would dissemble with my nature where

  My fortunes and my friends at stake required

  I should do so in honour: I am in this,

  Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles;

  And you will rather show our general louts

  How you can frown than spend a fawn upon ’em,

  For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard

  Of what that want might ruin.

  Menenius

  Noble lady!

  Come, go with us; speak fair: you may salve so,

  Not what is dangerous present, but the loss

  Of what is past.

  Volumnia

  I prithee now, my son,

  Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand;

  And thus far having stretch’d it — here be with them —

  Thy knee bussing the stones — for in such business

  Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant

  More learned than the ears — waving thy head,

  Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart,

  Now humble as the ripest mulberry

  That will not hold the handling: or say to them,

  Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils

  Hast not the soft way which, thou dost confess,

  Were fit for thee to use as they to claim,

  In asking their good loves, but thou wilt frame

  Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far

  As thou hast power and person.

  Menenius

  This but done,

  Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours;

  For they have pardons, being ask’d, as free

  As words to little purpose.

  Volumnia

  Prithee now,

  Go, and be ruled: although I know thou hadst rather

  Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf

  Than flatter him in a bower. Here is Cominius.

  Enter Cominius

  Cominius

  I have been i’ the market-place; and, sir,’tis fit

  You make strong party, or defend yourself

  By calmness or by absence: all’s in anger.

  Menenius

  Only fair speech.

  Cominius

  I think ’twill serve, if he

  Can thereto frame his spirit.

  Volumnia

  He must, and will

  Prithee now, say you will, and go about it.

  Coriolanus

  Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce?

  Must I with base tongue give my noble heart

  A lie that it must bear? Well, I will do’t:

  Yet, were there but this single plot to lose,

  This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grind it

  And throw’t against the wind. To the market-place!

  You have put me now to such a part which never

  I shall discharge to the life.

  Cominius

  Come, come, we’ll prompt you.

  Volumnia

  I prithee now, sweet son, as thou hast said

  My praises made thee first a soldier, so,

  To have my praise for this, perform a part

  Thou hast not done before.

  Coriolanus

  Well, I must do’t:

  Away, my disposition, and possess me

  Some harlot’s spirit! my throat of war be turn’d,

  Which quired with my drum, into a pipe

  Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice

  That babies lulls asleep! the smiles of knaves

  Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys’ tears take up

  The glasses of my sight! a beggar’s tongue

  Make motion through my lips, and my arm’d knees,

  Who bow’d but in my stirrup, bend like his

  That hath received an alms! I will not do’t,

  Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth

  And by my body’s action teach my mind

  A most inherent baseness.

  Volumnia

  At thy choice, then:

  To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour

  Than thou of them. Come all to ruin; let

  Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear

  Thy dangerous stoutness, for I mock at death

  With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list

  Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck’dst it from me,

  But owe thy pride thyself.

  Coriolanus

  Pray, be content:

  Mother, I am going to the market-place;

  Chide me no more. I’ll mountebank their loves,

  Cog their hearts from them, and come home beloved

  Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going:

  Commend me to my wife. I’ll return consul;

  Or never trust to what my tongue can do

  I’ the way of flattery further.

  Volumnia

  Do your will.

  Exit

  Cominius

  Away! the tribunes do attend you: arm yourself

  To answer mildly; for they are prepared

  With accusations, as I hear, more strong

  Than are upon you yet.

  Coriolanus

  The word is ‘mildly.’ Pray you, let us go:

  Let them accuse me by invention, I

  Will answer in mine honour.

  Menenius

  Ay, but mildly.

  Coriolanus

  Well, mildly be it then. Mildly!

  Exeunt

  SCENE III. THE SAME. THE FORUM.

  Enter Sicinius and Brutus

  Brutus

  In this point charge him home, that he affects

  Tyrannical power: if he evade us there,

  Enforce him with his envy to the people,<
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  And that the spoil got on the Antiates

  Was ne’er distributed.

  Enter an Aedile

  What, will he come?

  Aedile

  He’s coming.

  Brutus

  How accompanied?

  Aedile

  With old Menenius, and those senators

  That always favour’d him.

  Sicinius

  Have you a catalogue

  Of all the voices that we have procured

  Set down by the poll?

  Aedile

  I have; ’tis ready.

  Sicinius

  Have you collected them by tribes?

  Aedile

  I have.

  Sicinius

  Assemble presently the people hither;

  And when they bear me say ‘It shall be so

  I’ the right and strength o’ the commons,’ be it either

  For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them

  If I say fine, cry ‘Fine;’ if death, cry ‘Death.’

  Insisting on the old prerogative

  And power i’ the truth o’ the cause.

  Aedile

  I shall inform them.

  Brutus

  And when such time they have begun to cry,

  Let them not cease, but with a din confused

  Enforce the present execution

  Of what we chance to sentence.

  Aedile

  Very well.

  Sicinius

  Make them be strong and ready for this hint,

  When we shall hap to give ’t them.

  Brutus

  Go about it.

  Exit Aedile

  Put him to choler straight: he hath been used

  Ever to conquer, and to have his worth

  Of contradiction: being once chafed, he cannot

  Be rein’d again to temperance; then he speaks

  What’s in his heart; and that is there which looks

  With us to break his neck.

  Sicinius

  Well, here he comes.

  Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, and Cominius, with Senators and Patricians

  Menenius

  Calmly, I do beseech you.

  Coriolanus

  Ay, as an ostler, that for the poorest piece

  Will bear the knave by the volume. The honour’d gods

  Keep Rome in safety, and the chairs of justice

  Supplied with worthy men! plant love among ’s!

  Throng our large temples with the shows of peace,

  And not our streets with war!

  First Senator

  Amen, amen.

  Menenius

  A noble wish.

  Re-enter Aedile, with Citizens

  Sicinius

  Draw near, ye people.

  Aedile

  List to your tribunes. Audience: peace, I say!

  Coriolanus

  First, hear me speak.

  Both Tribunes

  Well, say. Peace, ho!

  Coriolanus

  Shall I be charged no further than this present?

  Must all determine here?

  Sicinius

  I do demand,

  If you submit you to the people’s voices,

  Allow their officers and are content

  To suffer lawful censure for such faults

  As shall be proved upon you?

  Coriolanus

  I am content.

  Menenius

  Lo, citizens, he says he is content:

  The warlike service he has done, consider; think

  Upon the wounds his body bears, which show

  Like graves i’ the holy churchyard.

  Coriolanus

  Scratches with briers,

  Scars to move laughter only.

  Menenius

  Consider further,

  That when he speaks not like a citizen,

  You find him like a soldier: do not take

  His rougher accents for malicious sounds,

  But, as I say, such as become a soldier,

  Rather than envy you.

  Cominius

  Well, well, no more.

  Coriolanus

  What is the matter

  That being pass’d for consul with full voice,

  I am so dishonour’d that the very hour

  You take it off again?

  Sicinius

  Answer to us.

  Coriolanus

  Say, then: ’tis true, I ought so.

  Sicinius

  We charge you, that you have contrived to take

  From Rome all season’d office and to wind

  Yourself into a power tyrannical;

  For which you are a traitor to the people.

  Coriolanus

  How! traitor!

  Menenius

  Nay, temperately; your promise.

  Coriolanus

  The fires i’ the lowest hell fold-in the people!

  Call me their traitor! Thou injurious tribune!

  Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths,

  In thy hand clutch’d as many millions, in

  Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say

  ‘Thou liest’ unto thee with a voice as free

  As I do pray the gods.

  Sicinius

  Mark you this, people?

  Citizens

  To the rock, to the rock with him!

  Sicinius

  Peace!

  We need not put new matter to his charge:

  What you have seen him do and heard him speak,

  Beating your officers, cursing yourselves,

  Opposing laws with strokes and here defying

  Those whose great power must try him; even this,

  So criminal and in such capital kind,

  Deserves the extremest death.

  Brutus

  But since he hath

  Served well for Rome,—

  Coriolanus

  What do you prate of service?

  Brutus

  I talk of that, that know it.

  Coriolanus

  You?

  Menenius

  Is this the promise that you made your mother?

  Cominius

  Know, I pray you,—

  Coriolanus

  I know no further:

  Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death,

  Vagabond exile, raying, pent to linger

  But with a grain a day, I would not buy

  Their mercy at the price of one fair word;

  Nor cheque my courage for what they can give,

  To have’t with saying ‘Good morrow.’

  Sicinius

  For that he has,

  As much as in him lies, from time to time

  Envied against the people, seeking means

  To pluck away their power, as now at last

  Given hostile strokes, and that not in the presence

  Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers

  That do distribute it; in the name o’ the people

  And in the power of us the tribunes, we,

  Even from this instant, banish him our city,

  In peril of precipitation

  From off the rock Tarpeian never more

  To enter our Rome gates: i’ the people’s name,

  I say it shall be so.

  Citizens

  It shall be so, it shall be so; let him away:

  He’s banish’d, and it shall be so.

  Cominius

  Hear me, my masters, and my common friends,—

  Sicinius

  He’s sentenced; no more hearing.

  Cominius

  Let me speak:

  I have been consul, and can show for Rome

  Her enemies’ marks upon me. I do love

  My country’s good with a respect more tender,

  More holy and profound, than mine own life,

  My dear wife’s estimate, her womb’s increase,
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  And treasure of my loins; then if I would

  Speak that,—

  Sicinius

  We know your drift: speak what?

  Brutus

  There’s no more to be said, but he is banish’d,

  As enemy to the people and his country:

  It shall be so.

  Citizens

  It shall be so, it shall be so.

  Coriolanus

  You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate

  As reek o’ the rotten fens, whose loves I prize

  As the dead carcasses of unburied men

  That do corrupt my air, I banish you;

  And here remain with your uncertainty!

  Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts!

  Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,

  Fan you into despair! Have the power still

  To banish your defenders; till at length

  Your ignorance, which finds not till it feels,

  Making not reservation of yourselves,

  Still your own foes, deliver you as most

  Abated captives to some nation

  That won you without blows! Despising,

  For you, the city, thus I turn my back:

  There is a world elsewhere.

  Exeunt Coriolanus, Cominius, Menenius, Senators, and Patricians

  Aedile

  The people’s enemy is gone, is gone!

  Citizens

  Our enemy is banish’d! he is gone! Hoo! hoo!

  Shouting, and throwing up their caps

  Sicinius

  Go, see him out at gates, and follow him,

  As he hath followed you, with all despite;

  Give him deserved vexation. Let a guard

  Attend us through the city.

  Citizens

  Come, come; let’s see him out at gates; come.

  The gods preserve our noble tribunes! Come.

  Exeunt

  ACT IV

  SCENE I. ROME. BEFORE A GATE OF THE CITY.

  Enter Coriolanus, Volumnia, Virgilia, Menenius, Cominius, with the young Nobility of Rome

  Coriolanus

  Come, leave your tears: a brief farewell: the beast

  With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother,

  Where is your ancient courage? you were used

  To say extremity was the trier of spirits;

  That common chances common men could bear;

  That when the sea was calm all boats alike

  Show’d mastership in floating; fortune’s blows,

  When most struck home, being gentle wounded, craves

  A noble cunning: you were used to load me

  With precepts that would make invincible

  The heart that conn’d them.

  Virgilia

  O heavens! O heavens!

  Coriolanus

  Nay! prithee, woman,—

  Volumnia

  Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome,

  And occupations perish!

  Coriolanus

  What, what, what!

  I shall be loved when I am lack’d. Nay, mother.

  Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say,

  If you had been the wife of Hercules,