Complete Plays, The

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Complete Plays, The Page 144

by William Shakespeare


  Six of his labours you’ld have done, and saved

  Your husband so much sweat. Cominius,

  Droop not; adieu. Farewell, my wife, my mother:

  I’ll do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius,

  Thy tears are salter than a younger man’s,

  And venomous to thine eyes. My sometime general,

  I have seen thee stem, and thou hast oft beheld

  Heart-hardening spectacles; tell these sad women

  ’Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes,

  As ’tis to laugh at ’em. My mother, you wot well

  My hazards still have been your solace: and

  Believe’t not lightly — though I go alone,

  Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen

  Makes fear’d and talk’d of more than seen — your son

  Will or exceed the common or be caught

  With cautelous baits and practise.

  Volumnia

  My first son.

  Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius

  With thee awhile: determine on some course,

  More than a wild exposture to each chance

  That starts i’ the way before thee.

  Coriolanus

  O the gods!

  Cominius

  I’ll follow thee a month, devise with thee

  Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us

  And we of thee: so if the time thrust forth

  A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send

  O’er the vast world to seek a single man,

  And lose advantage, which doth ever cool

  I’ the absence of the needer.

  Coriolanus

  Fare ye well:

  Thou hast years upon thee; and thou art too full

  Of the wars’ surfeits, to go rove with one

  That’s yet unbruised: bring me but out at gate.

  Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and

  My friends of noble touch, when I am forth,

  Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come.

  While I remain above the ground, you shall

  Hear from me still, and never of me aught

  But what is like me formerly.

  Menenius

  That’s worthily

  As any ear can hear. Come, let’s not weep.

  If I could shake off but one seven years

  From these old arms and legs, by the good gods,

  I’ld with thee every foot.

  Coriolanus

  Give me thy hand: Come.

  Exeunt

  SCENE II. THE SAME. A STREET NEAR THE GATE.

  Enter Sicinius, Brutus, and an Aedile

  Sicinius

  Bid them all home; he’s gone, and we’ll no further.

  The nobility are vex’d, whom we see have sided

  In his behalf.

  Brutus

  Now we have shown our power,

  Let us seem humbler after it is done

  Than when it was a-doing.

  Sicinius

  Bid them home:

  Say their great enemy is gone, and they

  Stand in their ancient strength.

  Brutus

  Dismiss them home.

  Exit Aedile

  Here comes his mother.

  Sicinius

  Let’s not meet her.

  Brutus

  Why?

  Sicinius

  They say she’s mad.

  Brutus

  They have ta’en note of us: keep on your way.

  Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Menenius

  Volumnia

  O, ye’re well met: the hoarded plague o’ the gods

  Requite your love!

  Menenius

  Peace, peace; be not so loud.

  Volumnia

  If that I could for weeping, you should hear,—

  Nay, and you shall hear some.

  To Brutus

  Will you be gone?

  Virgilia

  [To Sicinius] You shall stay too: I would I had the power

  To say so to my husband.

  Sicinius

  Are you mankind?

  Volumnia

  Ay, fool; is that a shame? Note but this fool.

  Was not a man my father? Hadst thou foxship

  To banish him that struck more blows for Rome

  Than thou hast spoken words?

  Sicinius

  O blessed heavens!

  Volumnia

  More noble blows than ever thou wise words;

  And for Rome’s good. I’ll tell thee what; yet go:

  Nay, but thou shalt stay too: I would my son

  Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him,

  His good sword in his hand.

  Sicinius

  What then?

  Virgilia

  What then!

  He’ld make an end of thy posterity.

  Volumnia

  Bastards and all.

  Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome!

  Menenius

  Come, come, peace.

  Sicinius

  I would he had continued to his country

  As he began, and not unknit himself

  The noble knot he made.

  Brutus

  I would he had.

  Volumnia

  ‘I would he had’! ’Twas you incensed the rabble:

  Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth

  As I can of those mysteries which heaven

  Will not have earth to know.

  Brutus

  Pray, let us go.

  Volumnia

  Now, pray, sir, get you gone:

  You have done a brave deed. Ere you go, hear this:—

  As far as doth the Capitol exceed

  The meanest house in Rome, so far my son —

  This lady’s husband here, this, do you see —

  Whom you have banish’d, does exceed you all.

  Brutus

  Well, well, we’ll leave you.

  Sicinius

  Why stay we to be baited

  With one that wants her wits?

  Volumnia

  Take my prayers with you.

  Exeunt Tribunes

  I would the gods had nothing else to do

  But to confirm my curses! Could I meet ’em

  But once a-day, it would unclog my heart

  Of what lies heavy to’t.

  Menenius

  You have told them home;

  And, by my troth, you have cause. You’ll sup with me?

  Volumnia

  Anger’s my meat; I sup upon myself,

  And so shall starve with feeding. Come, let’s go:

  Leave this faint puling and lament as I do,

  In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come.

  Menenius

  Fie, fie, fie!

  Exeunt

  SCENE III. A HIGHWAY BETWEEN ROME AND ANTIUM.

  Enter a Roman and a Volsce, meeting

  Roman

  I know you well, sir, and you know me: your name, I think, is Adrian.

  Volsce

  It is so, sir: truly, I have forgot you.

  Roman

  I am a Roman; and my services are, as you are, against ’em: know you me yet?

  Volsce

  Nicanor? no.

  Roman

  The same, sir.

  Volsce

  You had more beard when I last saw you; but your favour is well approved by your tongue. What’s the news in Rome? I have a note from the Volscian state, to find you out there: you have well saved me a day’s journey.

  Roman

  There hath been in Rome strange insurrections; the people against the senators, patricians, and nobles.

  Volsce

  Hath been! is it ended, then? Our state thinks not so: they are in a most warlike preparation, and hope to come upon them in the heat of their division.

  Roman

  The main blaze of it is past, but a sma
ll thing would make it flame again: for the nobles receive so to heart the banishment of that worthy Coriolanus, that they are in a ripe aptness to take all power from the people and to pluck from them their tribunes for ever. This lies glowing, I can tell you, and is almost mature for the violent breaking out.

  Volsce

  Coriolanus banished!

  Roman

  Banished, sir.

  Volsce

  You will be welcome with this intelligence, Nicanor.

  Roman

  The day serves well for them now. I have heard it said, the fittest time to corrupt a man’s wife is when she’s fallen out with her husband. Your noble Tullus Aufidius will appear well in these wars, his great opposer, Coriolanus, being now in no request of his country.

  Volsce

  He cannot choose. I am most fortunate, thus accidentally to encounter you: you have ended my business, and I will merrily accompany you home.

  Roman

  I shall, between this and supper, tell you most strange things from Rome; all tending to the good of their adversaries. Have you an army ready, say you?

  Volsce

  A most royal one; the centurions and their charges, distinctly billeted, already in the entertainment, and to be on foot at an hour’s warning.

  Roman

  I am joyful to hear of their readiness, and am the man, I think, that shall set them in present action. So, sir, heartily well met, and most glad of your company.

  Volsce

  You take my part from me, sir; I have the most cause to be glad of yours.

  Roman

  Well, let us go together.

  Exeunt

  SCENE IV. ANTIUM. BEFORE AUFIDIUS’S HOUSE.

  Enter Coriolanus in mean apparel, disguised and muffled

  Coriolanus

  A goodly city is this Antium. City,

  ’Tis I that made thy widows: many an heir

  Of these fair edifices ’fore my wars

  Have I heard groan and drop: then know me not,

  Lest that thy wives with spits and boys with stones

  In puny battle slay me.

  Enter a Citizen

  Save you, sir.

  Citizen

  And you.

  Coriolanus

  Direct me, if it be your will,

  Where great Aufidius lies: is he in Antium?

  Citizen

  He is, and feasts the nobles of the state

  At his house this night.

  Coriolanus

  Which is his house, beseech you?

  Citizen

  This, here before you.

  Coriolanus

  Thank you, sir: farewell.

  Exit Citizen

  O world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn,

  Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart,

  Whose house, whose bed, whose meal, and exercise,

  Are still together, who twin, as ’twere, in love

  Unseparable, shall within this hour,

  On a dissension of a doit, break out

  To bitterest enmity: so, fellest foes,

  Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep,

  To take the one the other, by some chance,

  Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends

  And interjoin their issues. So with me:

  My birth-place hate I, and my love’s upon

  This enemy town. I’ll enter: if he slay me,

  He does fair justice; if he give me way,

  I’ll do his country service.

  Exit

  SCENE V. THE SAME. A HALL IN AUFIDIUS’S HOUSE.

  Music within. Enter a Servingman

  First Servingman

  Wine, wine, wine! What service is here! I think our fellows are asleep.

  Exit

  Enter a second Servingman

  Second Servingman

  Where’s Cotus? my master calls for him. Cotus!

  Exit

  Enter Coriolanus

  Coriolanus

  A goodly house: the feast smells well; but I

  Appear not like a guest.

  Re-enter the first Servingman

  First Servingman

  What would you have, friend? whence are you?

  Here’s no place for you: pray, go to the door.

  Exit

  Coriolanus

  I have deserved no better entertainment,

  In being Coriolanus.

  Re-enter second Servingman

  Second Servingman

  Whence are you, sir? Has the porter his eyes in his head; that he gives entrance to such companions? Pray, get you out.

  Coriolanus

  Away!

  Second Servingman

  Away! get you away.

  Coriolanus

  Now thou’rt troublesome.

  Second Servingman

  Are you so brave? I’ll have you talked with anon.

  Enter a third Servingman. The first meets him

  Third Servingman

  What fellow’s this?

  First Servingman

  A strange one as ever I looked on: I cannot get him out of the house: prithee, call my master to him.

  Retires

  Third Servingman

  What have you to do here, fellow? Pray you, avoid the house.

  Coriolanus

  Let me but stand; I will not hurt your hearth.

  Third Servingman

  What are you?

  Coriolanus

  A gentleman.

  Third Servingman

  A marvellous poor one.

  Coriolanus

  True, so I am.

  Third Servingman

  Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other station; here’s no place for you; pray you, avoid: come.

  Coriolanus

  Follow your function, go, and batten on cold bits.

  Pushes him away

  Third Servingman

  What, you will not? Prithee, tell my master what a strange guest he has here.

  Second Servingman

  And I shall.

  Exit

  Third Servingman

  Where dwellest thou?

  Coriolanus

  Under the canopy.

  Third Servingman

  Under the canopy!

  Coriolanus

  Ay.

  Third Servingman

  Where’s that?

  Coriolanus

  I’ the city of kites and crows.

  Third Servingman

  I’ the city of kites and crows! What an ass it is!

  Then thou dwellest with daws too?

  Coriolanus

  No, I serve not thy master.

  Third Servingman

  How, sir! do you meddle with my master?

  Coriolanus

  Ay; ’tis an honester service than to meddle with thy mistress. Thou pratest, and pratest; serve with thy trencher, hence!

  Beats him away. Exit third Servingman

  Enter Aufidius with the second Servingman

  Aufidius

  Where is this fellow?

  Second Servingman

  Here, sir: I’ld have beaten him like a dog, but for disturbing the lords within.

  Retires

  Aufidius

  Whence comest thou? what wouldst thou? thy name?

  Why speak’st not? speak, man: what’s thy name?

  Coriolanus

  If, Tullus,

  Unmuffling

  Not yet thou knowest me, and, seeing me, dost not

  Think me for the man I am, necessity

  Commands me name myself.

  Aufidius

  What is thy name?

  Coriolanus

  A name unmusical to the Volscians’ ears,

  And harsh in sound to thine.

  Aufidius

  Say, what’s thy name?

  Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face

  Bears a command in’t; though thy tackle’s torn.

  Th
ou show’st a noble vessel: what’s thy name?

  Coriolanus

  Prepare thy brow to frown: know’st thou me yet?

  Aufidius

  I know thee not: thy name?

  Coriolanus

  My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done

  To thee particularly and to all the Volsces

  Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may

  My surname, Coriolanus: the painful service,

  The extreme dangers and the drops of blood

  Shed for my thankless country are requited

  But with that surname; a good memory,

  And witness of the malice and displeasure

  Which thou shouldst bear me: only that name remains;

  The cruelty and envy of the people,

  Permitted by our dastard nobles, who

  Have all forsook me, hath devour’d the rest;

  And suffer’d me by the voice of slaves to be

  Whoop’d out of Rome. Now this extremity

  Hath brought me to thy hearth; not out of hope —

  Mistake me not — to save my life, for if

  I had fear’d death, of all the men i’ the world

  I would have ’voided thee, but in mere spite,

  To be full quit of those my banishers,

  Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast

  A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge

  Thine own particular wrongs and stop those maims

  Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee straight,

  And make my misery serve thy turn: so use it

  That my revengeful services may prove

  As benefits to thee, for I will fight

  Against my canker’d country with the spleen

  Of all the under fiends. But if so be

  Thou darest not this and that to prove more fortunes

  Thou’rt tired, then, in a word, I also am

  Longer to live most weary, and present

  My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice;

  Which not to cut would show thee but a fool,

  Since I have ever follow’d thee with hate,

  Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country’s breast,

  And cannot live but to thy shame, unless

  It be to do thee service.

  Aufidius

  O Marcius, Marcius!

  Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart

  A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter

  Should from yond cloud speak divine things,

  And say ’Tis true,’ I’ld not believe them more

  Than thee, all noble Marcius. Let me twine

  Mine arms about that body, where against

  My grained ash an hundred times hath broke

  And scarr’d the moon with splinters: here I clip

  The anvil of my sword, and do contest

  As hotly and as nobly with thy love

  As ever in ambitious strength I did

  Contend against thy valour. Know thou first,

  I loved the maid I married; never man

  Sigh’d truer breath; but that I see thee here,

 

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