ParlzMAI/data/small.txt

First Citizen:
Before we proceed any further, hear me speak.

All:
Speak, speak.

First Citizen:
You are all resolved rather to die than to famish?

All:
Resolved. resolved.

First Citizen:
First, you know Caius Marcius is chief enemy to the people.

All:
We know't, we know't.

First Citizen:
Let us kill him, and we'll have corn at our own price.
Is't a verdict?

All:
No more talking on't; let it be done: away, away!

Second Citizen:
One word, good citizens.

First Citizen:
We are accounted poor citizens, the patricians good.
What authority surfeits on would relieve us: if they
would yield us but the superfluity, while it were
wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely;
but they think we are too dear: the leanness that
afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an
inventory to particularise their abundance; our
sufferance is a gain to them Let us revenge this with
our pikes, ere we become rakes: for the gods know I
speak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge.

Second Citizen:
Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcius?

All:
Against him first: he's a very dog to the commonalty.

Second Citizen:
Consider you what services he has done for his country?

First Citizen:
Very well; and could be content to give him good
report fort, but that he pays himself with being proud.

Second Citizen:
Nay, but speak not maliciously.

First Citizen:
I say unto you, what he hath done famously, he did
it to that end: though soft-conscienced men can be
content to say it was for his country he did it to
please his mother and to be partly proud; which he
is, even till the altitude of his virtue.

Second Citizen:
What he cannot help in his nature, you account a
vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous.

First Citizen:
If I must not, I need not be barren of accusations;
he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition.
What shouts are these? The other side o' the city
is risen: why stay we prating here? to the Capitol!

All:
Come, come.

First Citizen:
Soft! who comes here?

Second Citizen:
Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath always loved
the people.

First Citizen:
He's one honest enough: would all the rest were so!

MENENIUS:
What work's, my countrymen, in hand? where go you
With bats and clubs? The matter? speak, I pray you.

First Citizen:
Our business is not unknown to the senate; they have
had inkling this fortnight what we intend to do,
which now we'll show 'em in deeds. They say poor
suitors have strong breaths: they shall know we
have strong arms too.

MENENIUS:
Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbours,
Will you undo yourselves?

First Citizen:
We cannot, sir, we are undone already.

MENENIUS:
I tell you, friends, most charitable care
Have the patricians of you. For your wants,
Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well
Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them
Against the Roman state, whose course will on
The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs
Of more strong link asunder than can ever
Appear in your impediment. For the dearth,
The gods, not the patricians, make it, and
Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack,
You are transported by calamity
Thither where more attends you, and you slander
The helms o' the state, who care for you like fathers,
When you curse them as enemies.

First Citizen:
Care for us! True, indeed! They ne'er cared for us
yet: suffer us to famish, and their store-houses
crammed with grain; make edicts for usury, to
support usurers; repeal daily any wholesome act
established against the rich, and provide more
piercing statutes daily, to chain up and restrain
the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and
there's all the love they bear us.

MENENIUS:
Either you must
Confess yourselves wondrous malicious,
Or be accused of folly. I shall tell you
A pretty tale: it may be you have heard it;
But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture
To stale 't a little more.

First Citizen:
Well, I'll hear it, sir: yet you must not think to
fob off our disgrace with a tale: but, an 't please
you, deliver.

MENENIUS:
There was a time when all the body's members
Rebell'd against the belly, thus accused it:
That only like a gulf it did remain
I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive,
Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing
Like labour with the rest, where the other instruments
Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel,
And, mutually participate, did minister
Unto the appetite and affection common
Of the whole body. The belly answer'd--

First Citizen:
Well, sir, what answer made the belly?

MENENIUS:
Sir, I shall tell you. With a kind of smile,
Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus--
For, look you, I may make the belly smile
As well as speak--it tauntingly replied
To the discontented members, the mutinous parts
That envied his receipt; even so most fitly
As you malign our senators for that
They are not such as you.

First Citizen:
Your belly's answer? What!
The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye,
The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier,
Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter.
With other muniments and petty helps
In this our fabric, if that they--

MENENIUS:
What then?
'Fore me, this fellow speaks! What then? what then?

First Citizen:
Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd,
Who is the sink o' the body,--

MENENIUS:
Well, what then?

First Citizen:
The former agents, if they did complain,
What could the belly answer?

MENENIUS:
I will tell you
If you'll bestow a small--of what you have little--
Patience awhile, you'll hear the belly's answer.

First Citizen:
Ye're long about it.

MENENIUS:
Note me this, good friend;
Your most grave belly was deliberate,
Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd:
'True is it, my incorporate friends,' quoth he,
'That I receive the general food at first,
Which you do live upon; and fit it is,
Because I am the store-house and the shop
Of the whole body: but, if you do remember,
I send it through the rivers of your blood,
Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o' the brain;
And, through the cranks and offices of man,
The strongest nerves and small inferior veins
From me receive that natural competency
Whereby they live: and though that all at once,
You, my good friends,'--this says the belly, mark me,--

First Citizen:
Ay, sir; well, well.

MENENIUS:
'Though all at once cannot
See what I do deliver out to each,
Yet I can make my audit up, that all
From me do back receive the flour of all,
And leave me but the bran.' What say you to't?

First Citizen:
It was an answer: how apply you this?

MENENIUS:
The senators of Rome are this good belly,
And you the mutinous members; for examine
Their counsels and their cares, digest things rightly
Touching the weal o' the common, you shall find
No public benefit which you receive
But it proceeds or comes from them to you
And no way from yourselves. What do you think,
You, the great toe of this assembly?

First Citizen:
I the great toe! why the great toe?

MENENIUS:
For that, being one o' the lowest, basest, poorest,
Of this most wise rebellion, thou go'st foremost:
Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run,
Lead'st first to win some vantage.
But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs:
Rome and her rats are at the point of battle;
The one side must have bale.
Hail, noble Marcius!

MARCIUS:
Thanks. What's the matter, you dissentious rogues,
That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,
Make yourselves scabs?

First Citizen:
We have ever your good word.

MARCIUS:
He that will give good words to thee will flatter
Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs,
That like nor peace nor war? the one affrights you,
The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you,
Where he should find you lions, finds you hares;
Where foxes, geese: you are no surer, no,
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,
Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is
To make him worthy whose offence subdues him
And curse that justice did it.
Who deserves greatness
Deserves your hate; and your affections are
A sick man's appetite, who desires most that
Which would increase his evil. He that depends
Upon your favours swims with fins of lead
And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust Ye?
With every minute you do change a mind,
And call him noble that was now your hate,
Him vile that was your garland. What's the matter,
That in these several places of the city
You cry against the noble senate, who,
Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else
Would feed on one another? What's their seeking?

MENENIUS:
For corn at their own rates; whereof, they say,
The city is well stored.

MARCIUS:
Hang 'em! They say!
They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know
What's done i' the Capitol; who's like to rise,
Who thrives and who declines; side factions
and give out
Conjectural marriages; making parties strong
And feebling such as stand not in their liking
Below their cobbled shoes. They say there's
grain enough!
Would the nobility lay aside their ruth,
And let me use my sword, I'll make a quarry
With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high
As I could pick my lance.

MENENIUS:
Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded;
For though abundantly they lack discretion,
Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you,
What says the other troop?

MARCIUS:
They are dissolved: hang 'em!
They said they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth proverbs,
That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat,
That meat was made for mouths, that the gods sent not
Corn for the rich men only: with these shreds
They vented their complainings; which being answer'd,
And a petition granted them, a strange one--
To break the heart of generosity,
And make bold power look pale--they threw their caps
As they would hang them on the horns o' the moon,
Shouting their emulation.

MENENIUS:
What is granted them?

MARCIUS:
Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms,
Of their own choice: one's Junius Brutus,
Sicinius Velutus, and I know not--'Sdeath!
The rabble should have first unroof'd the city,
Ere so prevail'd with me: it will in time
Win upon power and throw forth greater themes
For insurrection's arguing.

MENENIUS:
This is strange.

MARCIUS:
Go, get you home, you fragments!

Messenger:
Where's Caius Marcius?

MARCIUS:
Here: what's the matter?

Messenger:
The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms.

MARCIUS:
I am glad on 't: then we shall ha' means to vent
Our musty superfluity. See, our best elders.

First Senator:
Marcius, 'tis true that you have lately told us;
The Volsces are in arms.

MARCIUS:
They have a leader,
Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to 't.
I sin in envying his nobility,
And were I any thing but what I am,
I would wish me only he.

COMINIUS:
You have fought together.

MARCIUS:
Were half to half the world by the ears and he.
Upon my party, I'ld revolt to make
Only my wars with him: he is a lion
That I am proud to hunt.

First Senator:
Then, worthy Marcius,
Attend upon Cominius to these wars.

COMINIUS:
It is your former promise.

MARCIUS:
Sir, it is;
And I am constant. Titus Lartius, thou
Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face.
What, art thou stiff? stand'st out?

TITUS:
No, Caius Marcius;
I'll lean upon one crutch and fight with t'other,
Ere stay behind this business.

MENENIUS:
O, true-bred!

First Senator:
Your company to the Capitol; where, I know,
Our greatest friends attend us.

TITUS:

COMINIUS:
Noble Marcius!

First Senator:

MARCIUS:
Nay, let them follow:
The Volsces have much corn; take these rats thither
To gnaw their garners. Worshipful mutiners,
Your valour puts well forth: pray, follow.

SICINIUS:
Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius?

BRUTUS:
He has no equal.

SICINIUS:
When we were chosen tribunes for the people,--

BRUTUS:
Mark'd you his lip and eyes?

SICINIUS:
Nay. but his taunts.

BRUTUS:
Being moved, he will not spare to gird the gods.

SICINIUS:
Be-mock the modest moon.

BRUTUS:
The present wars devour him: he is grown
Too proud to be so valiant.

SICINIUS:
Such a nature,
Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow
Which he treads on at noon: but I do wonder
His insolence can brook to be commanded
Under Cominius.

BRUTUS:
Fame, at the which he aims,
In whom already he's well graced, can not
Better be held nor more attain'd than by
A place below the first: for what miscarries
Shall be the general's fault, though he perform
To the utmost of a man, and giddy censure
Will then cry out of Marcius 'O if he
Had borne the business!'

SICINIUS:
Besides, if things go well,
Opinion that so sticks on Marcius shall
Of his demerits rob Cominius.

BRUTUS:
Come:
Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius.
Though Marcius earned them not, and all his faults
To Marcius shall be honours, though indeed
In aught he merit not.

SICINIUS:
Let's hence, and hear
How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion,
More than his singularity, he goes
Upon this present action.

BRUTUS:
Lets along.

First Senator:
So, your opinion is, Aufidius,
That they of Rome are entered in our counsels
And know how we proceed.

AUFIDIUS:
Is it not yours?
What ever have been thought on in this state,
That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome
Had circumvention? 'Tis not four days gone
Since I heard thence; these are the words: I think
I have the letter here; yes, here it is.
'They have press'd a power, but it is not known
Whether for east or west: the dearth is great;
The people mutinous; and it is rumour'd,
Cominius, Marcius your old enemy,
Who is of Rome worse hated than of you,
And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman,
These three lead on this preparation
Whither 'tis bent: most likely 'tis for you:
Consider of it.'

First Senator:
Our army's in the field
We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready
To answer us.

AUFIDIUS:
Nor did you think it folly
To keep your great pretences veil'd till when
They needs must show themselves; which
in the hatching,
It seem'd, appear'd to Rome. By the discovery.
We shall be shorten'd in our aim, which was
To take in many towns ere almost Rome
Should know we were afoot.

Second Senator:
Noble Aufidius,
Take your commission; hie you to your bands:
Let us alone to guard Corioli:
If they set down before 's, for the remove
Bring your army; but, I think, you'll find
They've not prepared for us.

AUFIDIUS:
O, doubt not that;
I speak from certainties. Nay, more,
Some parcels of their power are forth already,
And only hitherward. I leave your honours.
If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet,
'Tis sworn between us we shall ever strike
Till one can do no more.

All:
The gods assist you!

AUFIDIUS:
And keep your honours safe!

First Senator:
Farewell.

Second Senator:
Farewell.

All:
Farewell.

VOLUMNIA:
I pray you, daughter, sing; or express yourself in a
more comfortable sort: if my son were my husband, I
should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he
won honour than in the embracements of his bed where
he would show most love. When yet he was but
tender-bodied and the only son of my womb, when
youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way, when
for a day of kings' entreaties a mother should not
sell him an hour from her beholding, I, considering
how honour would become such a person. that it was
no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if
renown made it not stir, was pleased to let him seek
danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel
war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows
bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not
more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child
than now in first seeing he had proved himself a
man.

VIRGILIA:
But had he died in the business, madam; how then?

VOLUMNIA:
Then his good report should have been my son; I
therein would have found issue. Hear me profess
sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love
alike and none less dear than thine and my good
Marcius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their
country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.

Gentlewoman:
Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you.

VIRGILIA:
Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.

VOLUMNIA:
Indeed, you shall not.
Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum,
See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair,
As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning him:
Methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus:
'Come on, you cowards! you were got in fear,
Though you were born in Rome:' his bloody brow
With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes,
Like to a harvest-man that's task'd to mow
Or all or lose his hire.

VIRGILIA:
His bloody brow! O Jupiter, no blood!

VOLUMNIA:
Away, you fool! it more becomes a man
Than gilt his trophy: the breasts of Hecuba,
When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier
Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood
At Grecian sword, contemning. Tell Valeria,
We are fit to bid her welcome.

VIRGILIA:
Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!

VOLUMNIA:
He'll beat Aufidius 'head below his knee
And tread upon his neck.

VALERIA:
My ladies both, good day to you.

VOLUMNIA:
Sweet madam.

VIRGILIA:
I am glad to see your ladyship.

VALERIA:
How do you both? you are manifest house-keepers.
What are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good
faith. How does your little son?

VIRGILIA:
I thank your ladyship; well, good madam.

VOLUMNIA:
He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, than
look upon his school-master.

VALERIA:
O' my word, the father's son: I'll swear,'tis a
very pretty boy. O' my troth, I looked upon him o'
Wednesday half an hour together: has such a
confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded
butterfly: and when he caught it, he let it go
again; and after it again; and over and over he
comes, and again; catched it again; or whether his
fall enraged him, or how 'twas, he did so set his
teeth and tear it; O, I warrant it, how he mammocked
it!

VOLUMNIA:
One on 's father's moods.

VALERIA:
Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child.

VIRGILIA:
A crack, madam.

VALERIA:
Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play
the idle husewife with me this afternoon.

VIRGILIA:
No, good madam; I will not out of doors.

VALERIA:
Not out of doors!

VOLUMNIA:
She shall, she shall.

VIRGILIA:
Indeed, no, by your patience; I'll not over the
threshold till my lord return from the wars.

VALERIA:
Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably: come,
you must go visit the good lady that lies in.

VIRGILIA:
I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with
my prayers; but I cannot go thither.

VOLUMNIA:
Why, I pray you?

VIRGILIA:
'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love.

VALERIA:
You would be another Penelope: yet, they say, all
the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence did but fill
Ithaca full of moths. Come; I would your cambric
were sensible as your finger, that you might leave
pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us.

VIRGILIA:
No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth.

VALERIA:
In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you
excellent news of your husband.

VIRGILIA:
O, good madam, there can be none yet.

VALERIA:
Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from
him last night.

VIRGILIA:
Indeed, madam?

VALERIA:
In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it.
Thus it is: the Volsces have an army forth; against
whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of
our Roman power: your lord and Titus Lartius are set
down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt
prevailing and to make it brief wars. This is true,
on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us.

VIRGILIA:
Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every
thing hereafter.

VOLUMNIA:
Let her alone, lady: as she is now, she will but
disease our better mirth.

VALERIA:
In troth, I think she would. Fare you well, then.
Come, good sweet lady. Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy
solemness out o' door. and go along with us.

VIRGILIA:
No, at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish
you much mirth.

VALERIA:
Well, then, farewell.

MARCIUS:
Yonder comes news. A wager they have met.

LARTIUS:
My horse to yours, no.

MARCIUS:
'Tis done.

LARTIUS:
Agreed.

MARCIUS:
Say, has our general met the enemy?

Messenger:
They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet.

LARTIUS:
So, the good horse is mine.

MARCIUS:
I'll buy him of you.

LARTIUS:
No, I'll nor sell nor give him: lend you him I will
For half a hundred years. Summon the town.

MARCIUS:
How far off lie these armies?

Messenger:
Within this mile and half.

MARCIUS:
Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they ours.
Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work,
That we with smoking swords may march from hence,
To help our fielded friends! Come, blow thy blast.
Tutus Aufidius, is he within your walls?

First Senator:
No, nor a man that fears you less than he,
That's lesser than a little.
Hark! our drums
Are bringing forth our youth. We'll break our walls,
Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates,
Which yet seem shut, we, have but pinn'd with rushes;
They'll open of themselves.
Hark you. far off!
There is Aufidius; list, what work he makes
Amongst your cloven army.

MARCIUS:
O, they are at it!

LARTIUS:
Their noise be our instruction. Ladders, ho!

MARCIUS:
They fear us not, but issue forth their city.
Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight
With hearts more proof than shields. Advance,
brave Titus:
They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts,
Which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on, my fellows:
He that retires I'll take him for a Volsce,
And he shall feel mine edge.

MARCIUS:
All the contagion of the south light on you,
You shames of Rome! you herd of--Boils and plagues
Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd
Further than seen and one infect another
Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese,
That bear the shapes of men, how have you run
From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell!
All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale
With flight and agued fear! Mend and charge home,
Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe
And make my wars on you: look to't: come on;
If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives,
As they us to our trenches followed.
So, now the gates are ope: now prove good seconds:
'Tis for the followers fortune widens them,
Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like.

First Soldier:
Fool-hardiness; not I.

Second Soldier:
Nor I.

First Soldier:
See, they have shut him in.

All:
To the pot, I warrant him.

LARTIUS:
What is become of Marcius?

All:
Slain, sir, doubtless.

First Soldier:
Following the fliers at the very heels,
With them he enters; who, upon the sudden,
Clapp'd to their gates: he is himself alone,
To answer all the city.

LARTIUS:
O noble fellow!
Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword,
And, when it bows, stands up. Thou art left, Marcius:
A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art,
Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier
Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible
Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks and
The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds,
Thou madst thine enemies shake, as if the world
Were feverous and did tremble.

First Soldier:
Look, sir.

LARTIUS:
O,'tis Marcius!
Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike.

First Roman:
This will I carry to Rome.

Second Roman:
And I this.

Third Roman:
A murrain on't! I took this for silver.

MARCIUS:
See here these movers that do prize their hours
At a crack'd drachm! Cushions, leaden spoons,
Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would
Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves,
Ere yet the fight be done, pack up: down with them!
And hark, what noise the general makes! To him!
There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius,
Piercing our Romans: then, valiant Titus, take
Convenient numbers to make good the city;
Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste
To help Cominius.

LARTIUS:
Worthy sir, thou bleed'st;
Thy exercise hath been too violent for
A second course of fight.

MARCIUS:
Sir, praise me not;
My work hath yet not warm'd me: fare you well:
The blood I drop is rather physical
Than dangerous to me: to Aufidius thus
I will appear, and fight.

LARTIUS:
Now the fair goddess, Fortune,
Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms
Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman,
Prosperity be thy page!

MARCIUS:
Thy friend no less
Than those she placeth highest! So, farewell.

LARTIUS:
Thou worthiest Marcius!
Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place;
Call thither all the officers o' the town,
Where they shall know our mind: away!

COMINIUS:
Breathe you, my friends: well fought;
we are come off
Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands,
Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, sirs,
We shall be charged again. Whiles we have struck,
By interims and conveying gusts we have heard
The charges of our friends. Ye Roman gods!
Lead their successes as we wish our own,
That both our powers, with smiling
fronts encountering,
May give you thankful sacrifice.
Thy news?

Messenger:
The citizens of Corioli have issued,
And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle:
I saw our party to their trenches driven,
And then I came away.

COMINIUS:
Though thou speak'st truth,
Methinks thou speak'st not well.
How long is't since?

Messenger:
Above an hour, my lord.

COMINIUS:
'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums:
How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour,
And bring thy news so late?

Messenger:
Spies of the Volsces
Held me in chase, that I was forced to wheel
Three or four miles about, else had I, sir,
Half an hour since brought my report.

COMINIUS:
Who's yonder,
That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods
He has the stamp of Marcius; and I have
Before-time seen him thus.

MARCIUS:

COMINIUS:
The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabour
More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue
From every meaner man.

MARCIUS:
Come I too late?

COMINIUS:
Ay, if you come not in the blood of others,
But mantled in your own.

MARCIUS:
O, let me clip ye
In arms as sound as when I woo'd, in heart
As merry as when our nuptial day was done,
And tapers burn'd to bedward!

COMINIUS:
Flower of warriors,
How is it with Titus Lartius?

MARCIUS:
As with a man busied about decrees:
Condemning some to death, and some to exile;
Ransoming him, or pitying, threatening the other;
Holding Corioli in the name of Rome,
Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash,
To let him slip at will.

COMINIUS:
Where is that slave
Which told me they had beat you to your trenches?
Where is he? call him hither.

MARCIUS:
Let him alone;
He did inform the truth: but for our gentlemen,
The common file--a plague! tribunes for them!--
The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat as they did budge
From rascals worse than they.

COMINIUS:
But how prevail'd you?

MARCIUS:
Will the time serve to tell? I do not think.
Where is the enemy? are you lords o' the field?
If not, why cease you till you are so?

COMINIUS:
Marcius,
We have at disadvantage fought and did
Retire to win our purpose.

MARCIUS:
How lies their battle? know you on which side
They have placed their men of trust?

COMINIUS:
As I guess, Marcius,
Their bands i' the vaward are the Antiates,
Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius,
Their very heart of hope.

MARCIUS:
I do beseech you,
By all the battles wherein we have fought,
By the blood we have shed together, by the vows
We have made to endure friends, that you directly
Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates;
And that you not delay the present, but,
Filling the air with swords advanced and darts,
We prove this very hour.

COMINIUS:
Though I could wish
You were conducted to a gentle bath
And balms applied to, you, yet dare I never
Deny your asking: take your choice of those
That best can aid your action.

MARCIUS:
Those are they
That most are willing. If any such be here--
As it were sin to doubt--that love this painting
Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear
Lesser his person than an ill report;
If any think brave death outweighs bad life
And that his country's dearer than himself;
Let him alone, or so many so minded,
Wave thus, to express his disposition,
And follow Marcius.
O, me alone! make you a sword of me?
If these shows be not outward, which of you
But is four Volsces? none of you but is
Able to bear against the great Aufidius
A shield as hard as his. A certain number,
Though thanks to all, must I select
from all: the rest
Shall bear the business in some other fight,
As cause will be obey'd. Please you to march;
And four shall quickly draw out my command,
Which men are best inclined.

COMINIUS:
March on, my fellows:
Make good this ostentation, and you shall
Divide in all with us.

LARTIUS:
So, let the ports be guarded: keep your duties,
As I have set them down. If I do send, dispatch
Those centuries to our aid: the rest will serve
For a short holding: if we lose the field,
We cannot keep the town.

Lieutenant:
Fear not our care, sir.

LARTIUS:
Hence, and shut your gates upon's.
Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct us.

MARCIUS:
I'll fight with none but thee; for I do hate thee
Worse than a promise-breaker.

AUFIDIUS:
We hate alike:
Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor
More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot.

MARCIUS:
Let the first budger die the other's slave,
And the gods doom him after!

AUFIDIUS:
If I fly, Marcius,
Holloa me like a hare.

MARCIUS:
Within these three hours, Tullus,
Alone I fought in your Corioli walls,
And made what work I pleased: 'tis not my blood
Wherein thou seest me mask'd; for thy revenge
Wrench up thy power to the highest.

AUFIDIUS:
Wert thou the Hector
That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny,
Thou shouldst not scape me here.
Officious, and not valiant, you have shamed me
In your condemned seconds.

COMINIUS:
If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work,
Thou'ldst not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it
Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles,
Where great patricians shall attend and shrug,
I' the end admire, where ladies shall be frighted,
And, gladly quaked, hear more; where the
dull tribunes,
That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours,
Shall say against their hearts 'We thank the gods
Our Rome hath such a soldier.'
Yet camest thou to a morsel of this feast,
Having fully dined before.

LARTIUS:
O general,
Here is the steed, we the caparison:
Hadst thou beheld--

MARCIUS:
Pray now, no more: my mother,
Who has a charter to extol her blood,
When she does praise me grieves me. I have done
As you have done; that's what I can; induced
As you have been; that's for my country:
He that has but effected his good will
Hath overta'en mine act.

COMINIUS:
You shall not be
The grave of your deserving; Rome must know
The value of her own: 'twere a concealment
Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement,
To hide your doings; and to silence that,
Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd,
Would seem but modest: therefore, I beseech you
In sign of what you are, not to reward
What you have done--before our army hear me.

MARCIUS:
I have some wounds upon me, and they smart
To hear themselves remember'd.

COMINIUS:
Should they not,
Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude,
And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses,
Whereof we have ta'en good and good store, of all
The treasure in this field achieved and city,
We render you the tenth, to be ta'en forth,
Before the common distribution, at
Your only choice.

MARCIUS:
I thank you, general;
But cannot make my heart consent to take
A bribe to pay my sword: I do refuse it;
And stand upon my common part with those
That have beheld the doing.

MARCIUS:
May these same instruments, which you profane,
Never sound more! when drums and trumpets shall
I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be
Made all of false-faced soothing!
When steel grows soft as the parasite's silk,
Let him be made a coverture for the wars!
No more, I say! For that I have not wash'd
My nose that bled, or foil'd some debile wretch.--
Which, without note, here's many else have done,--
You shout me forth
In acclamations hyperbolical;
As if I loved my little should be dieted
In praises sauced with lies.

COMINIUS:
Too modest are you;
More cruel to your good report than grateful
To us that give you truly: by your patience,
If 'gainst yourself you be incensed, we'll put you,
Like one that means his proper harm, in manacles,
Then reason safely with you. Therefore, be it known,
As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius
Wears this war's garland: in token of the which,
My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him,
With all his trim belonging; and from this time,
For what he did before Corioli, call him,
With all the applause and clamour of the host,
CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS! Bear
The addition nobly ever!

All:
Caius Marcius Coriolanus!

CORIOLANUS:
I will go wash;
And when my face is fair, you shall perceive
Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thank you.
I mean to stride your steed, and at all times
To undercrest your good addition
To the fairness of my power.

COMINIUS:
So, to our tent;
Where, ere we do repose us, we will write
To Rome of our success. You, Titus Lartius,
Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome
The best, with whom we may articulate,
For their own good and ours.

LARTIUS:
I shall, my lord.

CORIOLANUS:
The gods begin to mock me. I, that now
Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg
Of my lord general.

COMINIUS:
Take't; 'tis yours. What is't?

CORIOLANUS:
I sometime lay here in Corioli
At a poor man's house; he used me kindly:
He cried to me; I saw him prisoner;
But then Aufidius was within my view,
And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you
To give my poor host freedom.

COMINIUS:
O, well begg'd!
Were he the butcher of my son, he should
Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus.

LARTIUS:
Marcius, his name?

CORIOLANUS:
By Jupiter! forgot.
I am weary; yea, my memory is tired.
Have we no wine here?

COMINIUS:
Go we to our tent:
The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time
It should be look'd to: come.

AUFIDIUS:
The town is ta'en!

First Soldier:
'Twill be deliver'd back on good condition.

AUFIDIUS:
Condition!
I would I were a Roman; for I cannot,
Being a Volsce, be that I am. Condition!
What good condition can a treaty find
I' the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius,
I have fought with thee: so often hast thou beat me,
And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter
As often as we eat. By the elements,
If e'er again I meet him beard to beard,
He's mine, or I am his: mine emulation
Hath not that honour in't it had; for where
I thought to crush him in an equal force,
True sword to sword, I'll potch at him some way
Or wrath or craft may get him.

First Soldier:
He's the devil.

AUFIDIUS:
Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour's poison'd
With only suffering stain by him; for him
Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep nor sanctuary,
Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol,
The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice,
Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up
Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst
My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it
At home, upon my brother's guard, even there,
Against the hospitable canon, would I
Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to the city;
Learn how 'tis held; and what they are that must
Be hostages for Rome.

First Soldier:
Will not you go?

AUFIDIUS:
I am attended at the cypress grove: I pray you--
'Tis south the city mills--bring me word thither
How the world goes, that to the pace of it
I may spur on my journey.

First Soldier:
I shall, sir.

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.

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.

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?

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
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
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?

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
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,
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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.
How now, my as fair as noble ladies,--and the moon,
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!

VOLUMNIA:
Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosperous
approbation.

MENENIUS:
Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee. Hoo!
Marcius coming home!

VOLUMNIA:
Nay,'tis true.

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!

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,
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'
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
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?

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.

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.
Where is he wounded?
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
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
wounds upon him.

MENENIUS:
Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave.
Hark! the trumpets.

VOLUMNIA:
These are the ushers of Marcius: before him he
carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears:
Death, that dark spirit, in 's nervy arm doth lie;
Which, being advanced, declines, and then men die.

Herald:
Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight
Within Corioli gates: where he hath won,
With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these
In honour follows Coriolanus.
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!

All:
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!

CORIOLANUS:
No more of this; it does offend my heart:
Pray now, no more.

COMINIUS:
Look, sir, your mother!

CORIOLANUS:
O,
You have, I know, petition'd all the gods
For my prosperity!

VOLUMNIA:
Nay, my good soldier, up;
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!
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!

CORIOLANUS:
And live you yet?
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
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
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.

CORIOLANUS:
Menenius ever, ever.

Herald:
Give way there, and go on!

CORIOLANUS:

VOLUMNIA:
I have lived
To see inherited my very wishes
And the buildings of my fancy: only
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.

COMINIUS:
On, to the Capitol!

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
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
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
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.

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.

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
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
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
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.

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,
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,
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
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
Shall darken him for ever.

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
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:
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.

First Officer:
Come, come, they are almost here. How many stand
for consulships?

Second Officer:
Three, they say: but 'tis thought of every one
Coriolanus will carry it.

First Officer:
That's a brave fellow; but he's vengeance proud, and
loves not the common people.

Second Officer:
Faith, there had been many great men that have
flattered the people, who ne'er loved them; and there
be many that they have loved, they know not
wherefore: so that, if they love they know not why,
they hate upon no better a ground: therefore, for
Coriolanus neither to care whether they love or hate
him manifests the true knowledge he has in their
disposition; and out of his noble carelessness lets
them plainly see't.

First Officer:
If he did not care whether he had their love or no,
he waved indifferently 'twixt doing them neither
good nor harm: but he seeks their hate with greater
devotion than can render it him; and leaves
nothing undone that may fully discover him their
opposite. Now, to seem to affect the malice and
displeasure of the people is as bad as that which he
dislikes, to flatter them for their love.

Second Officer:
He hath deserved worthily of his country: and his
ascent is not by such easy degrees as those who,
having been supple and courteous to the people,
bonneted, without any further deed to have them at
an into their estimation and report: but he hath so
planted his honours in their eyes, and his actions
in their hearts, that for their tongues to be
silent, and not confess so much, were a kind of
ingrateful injury; to report otherwise, were a
malice, that, giving itself the lie, would pluck
reproof and rebuke from every ear that heard it.

First Officer:
No more of him; he is a worthy man: make way, they
are coming.

MENENIUS:
Having determined of the Volsces and
To send for Titus Lartius, it remains,
As the main point of this our after-meeting,
To gratify his noble service that
Hath thus stood for his country: therefore,
please you,
Most reverend and grave elders, to desire
The present consul, and last general
In our well-found successes, to report
A little of that worthy work perform'd
By Caius Marcius Coriolanus, whom
We met here both to thank and to remember
With honours like himself.

First Senator:
Speak, good Cominius:
Leave nothing out for length, and make us think
Rather our state's defective for requital
Than we to stretch it out.
Masters o' the people,
We do request your kindest ears, and after,
Your loving motion toward the common body,
To yield what passes here.

SICINIUS:
We are convented
Upon a pleasing treaty, and have hearts
Inclinable to honour and advance
The theme of our assembly.

BRUTUS:
Which the rather
We shall be blest to do, if he remember
A kinder value of the people than
He hath hereto prized them at.

MENENIUS:
That's off, that's off;
I would you rather had been silent. Please you
To hear Cominius speak?

BRUTUS:
Most willingly;
But yet my caution was more pertinent
Than the rebuke you give it.

MENENIUS:
He loves your people
But tie him not to be their bedfellow.
Worthy Cominius, speak.
Nay, keep your place.

First Senator:
Sit, Coriolanus; never shame to hear
What you have nobly done.

CORIOLANUS:
Your horror's pardon:
I had rather have my wounds to heal again
Than hear say how I got them.

BRUTUS:
Sir, I hope
My words disbench'd you not.

CORIOLANUS:
No, sir: yet oft,
When blows have made me stay, I fled from words.
You soothed not, therefore hurt not: but
your people,
I love them as they weigh.

MENENIUS:
Pray now, sit down.

CORIOLANUS:
I had rather have one scratch my head i' the sun
When the alarum were struck than idly sit
To hear my nothings monster'd.

MENENIUS:
Masters of the people,
Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter--
That's thousand to one good one--when you now see
He had rather venture all his limbs for honour
Than one on's ears to hear it? Proceed, Cominius.

COMINIUS:
I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus
Should not be utter'd feebly. It is held
That valour is the chiefest virtue, and
Most dignifies the haver: if it be,
The man I speak of cannot in the world
Be singly counterpoised. At sixteen years,
When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought
Beyond the mark of others: our then dictator,
Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight,
When with his Amazonian chin he drove
The bristled lips before him: be bestrid
An o'er-press'd Roman and i' the consul's view
Slew three opposers: Tarquin's self he met,
And struck him on his knee: in that day's feats,
When he might act the woman in the scene,
He proved best man i' the field, and for his meed
Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age
Man-enter'd thus, he waxed like a sea,
And in the brunt of seventeen battles since
He lurch'd all swords of the garland. For this last,
Before and in Corioli, let me say,
I cannot speak him home: he stopp'd the fliers;
And by his rare example made the coward
Turn terror into sport: as weeds before
A vessel under sail, so men obey'd
And fell below his stem: his sword, death's stamp,
Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot
He was a thing of blood, whose every motion
Was timed with dying cries: alone he enter'd
The mortal gate of the city, which he painted
With shunless destiny; aidless came off,
And with a sudden reinforcement struck
Corioli like a planet: now all's his:
When, by and by, the din of war gan pierce
His ready sense; then straight his doubled spirit
Re-quicken'd what in flesh was fatigate,
And to the battle came he; where he did
Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if
'Twere a perpetual spoil: and till we call'd
Both field and city ours, he never stood
To ease his breast with panting.

MENENIUS:
Worthy man!

First Senator:
He cannot but with measure fit the honours
Which we devise him.

COMINIUS:
Our spoils he kick'd at,
And look'd upon things precious as they were
The common muck of the world: he covets less
Than misery itself would give; rewards
His deeds with doing them, and is content
To spend the time to end it.

MENENIUS:
He's right noble:
Let him be call'd for.

First Senator:
Call Coriolanus.

Officer:
He doth appear.

MENENIUS:
The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleased
To make thee consul.

CORIOLANUS:
I do owe them still
My life and services.

MENENIUS:
It then remains
That you do speak to the people.

CORIOLANUS:
I do beseech you,
Let me o'erleap that custom, for I cannot
Put on the gown, stand naked and entreat them,
For my wounds' sake, to give their suffrage: please you
That I may pass this doing.

SICINIUS:
Sir, the people
Must have their voices; neither will they bate
One jot of ceremony.

MENENIUS:
Put them not to't:
Pray you, go fit you to the custom and
Take to you, as your predecessors have,
Your honour with your form.

CORIOLANUS:
It is apart
That I shall blush in acting, and might well
Be taken from the people.

BRUTUS:
Mark you that?

CORIOLANUS:
To brag unto them, thus I did, and thus;
Show them the unaching scars which I should hide,
As if I had received them for the hire
Of their breath only!

MENENIUS:
Do not stand upon't.
We recommend to you, tribunes of the people,
Our purpose to them: and to our noble consul
Wish we all joy and honour.

Senators:
To Coriolanus come all joy and honour!

BRUTUS:
You see how he intends to use the people.

SICINIUS:
May they perceive's intent! He will require them,
As if he did contemn what he requested
Should be in them to give.

BRUTUS:
Come, we'll inform them
Of our proceedings here: on the marketplace,
I know, they do attend us.

First Citizen:
Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him.

Second Citizen:
We may, sir, if we will.

Third Citizen:
We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a
power that we have no power to do; for if he show us
his wounds and tell us his deeds, we are to put our
tongues into those wounds and speak for them; so, if
he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him
our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is
monstrous, and for the multitude to be ingrateful,
were to make a monster of the multitude: of the
which we being members, should bring ourselves to be
monstrous members.

First Citizen:
And to make us no better thought of, a little help
will serve; for once we stood up about the corn, he
himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude.

Third Citizen:
We have been called so of many; not that our heads
are some brown, some black, some auburn, some bald,
but that our wits are so diversely coloured: and
truly I think if all our wits were to issue out of
one skull, they would fly east, west, north, south,
and their consent of one direct way should be at
once to all the points o' the compass.

Second Citizen:
Think you so? Which way do you judge my wit would
fly?

Third Citizen:
Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another man's
will;'tis strongly wedged up in a block-head, but
if it were at liberty, 'twould, sure, southward.

Second Citizen:
Why that way?

Third Citizen:
To lose itself in a fog, where being three parts
melted away with rotten dews, the fourth would return
for conscience sake, to help to get thee a wife.

Second Citizen:
You are never without your tricks: you may, you may.

Third Citizen:
Are you all resolved to give your voices? But
that's no matter, the greater part carries it. I
say, if he would incline to the people, there was
never a worthier man.
Here he comes, and in the gown of humility: mark his
behavior. We are not to stay all together, but to
come by him where he stands, by ones, by twos, and
by threes. He's to make his requests by
particulars; wherein every one of us has a single
honour, in giving him our own voices with our own
tongues: therefore follow me, and I direct you how
you shall go by him.

All:
Content, content.

MENENIUS:
O sir, you are not right: have you not known
The worthiest men have done't?

CORIOLANUS:
What must I say?
'I Pray, sir'--Plague upon't! I cannot bring
My tongue to such a pace:--'Look, sir, my wounds!
I got them in my country's service, when
Some certain of your brethren roar'd and ran
From the noise of our own drums.'

MENENIUS:
O me, the gods!
You must not speak of that: you must desire them
To think upon you.

CORIOLANUS:
Think upon me! hang 'em!
I would they would forget me, like the virtues
Which our divines lose by 'em.

MENENIUS:
You'll mar all:
I'll leave you: pray you, speak to 'em, I pray you,
In wholesome manner.

CORIOLANUS:
Bid them wash their faces
And keep their teeth clean.
So, here comes a brace.
You know the cause, air, of my standing here.

Third Citizen:
We do, sir; tell us what hath brought you to't.

CORIOLANUS:
Mine own desert.

Second Citizen:
Your own desert!

CORIOLANUS:
Ay, but not mine own desire.

Third Citizen:
How not your own desire?

CORIOLANUS:
No, sir,'twas never my desire yet to trouble the
poor with begging.

Third Citizen:
You must think, if we give you any thing, we hope to
gain by you.

CORIOLANUS:
Well then, I pray, your price o' the consulship?

First Citizen:
The price is to ask it kindly.

CORIOLANUS:
Kindly! Sir, I pray, let me ha't: I have wounds to
show you, which shall be yours in private. Your
good voice, sir; what say you?

Second Citizen:
You shall ha' it, worthy sir.

CORIOLANUS:
A match, sir. There's in all two worthy voices
begged. I have your alms: adieu.

Third Citizen:
But this is something odd.

Second Citizen:
An 'twere to give again,--but 'tis no matter.

CORIOLANUS:
Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your
voices that I may be consul, I have here the
customary gown.

Fourth Citizen:
You have deserved nobly of your country, and you
have not deserved nobly.

CORIOLANUS:
Your enigma?

Fourth Citizen:
You have been a scourge to her enemies, you have
been a rod to her friends; you have not indeed loved
the common people.

CORIOLANUS:
You should account me the more virtuous that I have
not been common in my love. I will, sir, flatter my
sworn brother, the people, to earn a dearer
estimation of them; 'tis a condition they account
gentle: and since the wisdom of their choice is
rather to have my hat than my heart, I will practise
the insinuating nod and be off to them most
counterfeitly; that is, sir, I will counterfeit the
bewitchment of some popular man and give it
bountiful to the desirers. Therefore, beseech you,
I may be consul.

Fifth Citizen:
We hope to find you our friend; and therefore give
you our voices heartily.

Fourth Citizen:
You have received many wounds for your country.

CORIOLANUS:
I will not seal your knowledge with showing them. I
will make much of your voices, and so trouble you no further.

Both Citizens:
The gods give you joy, sir, heartily!

CORIOLANUS:
Most sweet voices!
Better it is to die, better to starve,
Than crave the hire which first we do deserve.
Why in this woolvish toge should I stand here,
To beg of Hob and Dick, that do appear,
Their needless vouches? Custom calls me to't:
What custom wills, in all things should we do't,
The dust on antique time would lie unswept,
And mountainous error be too highly heapt
For truth to o'er-peer. Rather than fool it so,
Let the high office and the honour go
To one that would do thus. I am half through;
The one part suffer'd, the other will I do.
Here come more voices.
Your voices: for your voices I have fought;
Watch'd for your voices; for Your voices bear
Of wounds two dozen odd; battles thrice six
I have seen and heard of; for your voices have
Done many things, some less, some more your voices:
Indeed I would be consul.

Sixth Citizen:
He has done nobly, and cannot go without any honest
man's voice.

Seventh Citizen:
Therefore let him be consul: the gods give him joy,
and make him good friend to the people!

All Citizens:
Amen, amen. God save thee, noble consul!

CORIOLANUS:
Worthy voices!

MENENIUS:
You have stood your limitation; and the tribunes
Endue you with the people's voice: remains
That, in the official marks invested, you
Anon do meet the senate.

CORIOLANUS:
Is this done?

SICINIUS:
The custom of request you have discharged:
The people do admit you, and are summon'd
To meet anon, upon your approbation.

CORIOLANUS:
Where? at the senate-house?

SICINIUS:
There, Coriolanus.

CORIOLANUS:
May I change these garments?

SICINIUS:
You may, sir.

CORIOLANUS:
That I'll straight do; and, knowing myself again,
Repair to the senate-house.

MENENIUS:
I'll keep you company. Will you along?

BRUTUS:
We stay here for the people.

SICINIUS:
Fare you well.
He has it now, and by his looks methink
'Tis warm at 's heart.

BRUTUS:
With a proud heart he wore his humble weeds.
will you dismiss the people?

SICINIUS:
How now, my masters! have you chose this man?

First Citizen:
He has our voices, sir.

BRUTUS:
We pray the gods he may deserve your loves.

Second Citizen:
Amen, sir: to my poor unworthy notice,
He mock'd us when he begg'd our voices.

Third Citizen:
Certainly
He flouted us downright.

First Citizen:
No,'tis his kind of speech: he did not mock us.

Second Citizen:
Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says
He used us scornfully: he should have show'd us
His marks of merit, wounds received for's country.

SICINIUS:
Why, so he did, I am sure.

Citizens:
No, no; no man saw 'em.

Third Citizen:
He said he had wounds, which he could show
in private;
And with his hat, thus waving it in scorn,
'I would be consul,' says he: 'aged custom,
But by your voices, will not so permit me;
Your voices therefore.' When we granted that,
Here was 'I thank you for your voices: thank you:
Your most sweet voices: now you have left
your voices,
I have no further with you.' Was not this mockery?

SICINIUS:
Why either were you ignorant to see't,
Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness
To yield your voices?

BRUTUS:
Could you not have told him
As you were lesson'd, when he had no power,
But was a petty servant to the state,
He was your enemy, ever spake against
Your liberties and the charters that you bear
I' the body of the weal; and now, arriving
A place of potency and sway o' the state,
If he should still malignantly remain
Fast foe to the plebeii, your voices might
Be curses to yourselves? You should have said
That as his worthy deeds did claim no less
Than what he stood for, so his gracious nature
Would think upon you for your voices and
Translate his malice towards you into love,
Standing your friendly lord.

SICINIUS:
Thus to have said,
As you were fore-advised, had touch'd his spirit
And tried his inclination; from him pluck'd
Either his gracious promise, which you might,
As cause had call'd you up, have held him to
Or else it would have gall'd his surly nature,
Which easily endures not article
Tying him to aught; so putting him to rage,
You should have ta'en the advantage of his choler
And pass'd him unelected.

BRUTUS:
Did you perceive
He did solicit you in free contempt
When he did need your loves, and do you think
That his contempt shall not be bruising to you,
When he hath power to crush? Why, had your bodies
No heart among you? or had you tongues to cry
Against the rectorship of judgment?

SICINIUS:
Have you
Ere now denied the asker? and now again
Of him that did not ask, but mock, bestow
Your sued-for tongues?

Third Citizen:
He's not confirm'd; we may deny him yet.

Second Citizen:
And will deny him:
I'll have five hundred voices of that sound.

First Citizen:
I twice five hundred and their friends to piece 'em.

BRUTUS:
Get you hence instantly, and tell those friends,
They have chose a consul that will from them take
Their liberties; make them of no more voice
Than dogs that are as often beat for barking
As therefore kept to do so.

SICINIUS:
Let them assemble,
And on a safer judgment all revoke
Your ignorant election; enforce his pride,
And his old hate unto you; besides, forget not
With what contempt he wore the humble weed,
How in his suit he scorn'd you; but your loves,
Thinking upon his services, took from you
The apprehension of his present portance,
Which most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion
After the inveterate hate he bears you.

BRUTUS:
Lay
A fault on us, your tribunes; that we laboured,
No impediment between, but that you must
Cast your election on him.

SICINIUS:
Say, you chose him
More after our commandment than as guided
By your own true affections, and that your minds,
Preoccupied with what you rather must do
Than what you should, made you against the grain
To voice him consul: lay the fault on us.

BRUTUS:
Ay, spare us not. Say we read lectures to you.
How youngly he began to serve his country,
How long continued, and what stock he springs of,
The noble house o' the Marcians, from whence came
That Ancus Marcius, Numa's daughter's son,
Who, after great Hostilius, here was king;
Of the same house Publius and Quintus were,
That our beat water brought by conduits hither;
And  
Twice being  
Was his great ancestor.

SICINIUS:
One thus descended,
That hath beside well in his person wrought
To be set high in place, we did commend
To your remembrances: but you have found,
Scaling his present bearing with his past,
That he's your fixed enemy, and revoke
Your sudden approbation.

BRUTUS:
Say, you ne'er had done't--
Harp on that still--but by our putting on;
And presently, when you have drawn your number,
Repair to the Capitol.

All:
We will so: almost all
Repent in their election.

BRUTUS:
Let them go on;
This mutiny were better put in hazard,
Than stay, past doubt, for greater:
If, as his nature is, he fall in rage
With their refusal, both observe and answer
The vantage of his anger.

SICINIUS:
To the Capitol, come:
We will be there before the stream o' the people;
And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own,
Which we have goaded onward.

CORIOLANUS:
Tullus Aufidius then had made new head?

LARTIUS:
He had, my lord; and that it was which caused
Our swifter composition.

CORIOLANUS:
So then the Volsces stand but as at first,
Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make road.
Upon's again.

COMINIUS:
They are worn, lord consul, so,
That we shall hardly in our ages see
Their banners wave again.

CORIOLANUS:
Saw you Aufidius?

LARTIUS:
On safe-guard he came to me; and did curse
Against the Volsces, for they had so vilely
Yielded the town: he is retired to Antium.

CORIOLANUS:
Spoke he of me?

LARTIUS:
He did, my lord.

CORIOLANUS:
How? what?

LARTIUS:
How often he had met you, sword to sword;
That of all things upon the earth he hated
Your person most, that he would pawn his fortunes
To hopeless restitution, so he might
Be call'd your vanquisher.

CORIOLANUS:
At Antium lives he?

LARTIUS:
At Antium.

CORIOLANUS:
I wish I had a cause to seek him there,
To oppose his hatred fully. Welcome home.
Behold, these are the tribunes of the people,
The tongues o' the common mouth: I do despise them;
For they do prank them in authority,
Against all noble sufferance.

SICINIUS:
Pass no further.

CORIOLANUS:
Ha! what is that?

BRUTUS:
It will be dangerous to go on: no further.

CORIOLANUS:
What makes this change?

MENENIUS:
The matter?

COMINIUS:
Hath he not pass'd the noble and the common?

BRUTUS:
Cominius, no.

CORIOLANUS:
Have I had children's voices?

First Senator:
Tribunes, give way; he shall to the market-place.

BRUTUS:
The people are incensed against him.

SICINIUS:
Stop,
Or all will fall in broil.

CORIOLANUS:
Are these your herd?
Must these have voices, that can yield them now
And straight disclaim their tongues? What are
your offices?
You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth?
Have you not set them on?

MENENIUS:
Be calm, be calm.

CORIOLANUS:
It is a purposed thing, and grows by plot,
To curb the will of the nobility:
Suffer't, and live with such as cannot rule
Nor ever will be ruled.

BRUTUS:
Call't not a plot:
The people cry you mock'd them, and of late,
When corn was given them gratis, you repined;
Scandal'd the suppliants for the people, call'd them
Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness.

CORIOLANUS:
Why, this was known before.

BRUTUS:
Not to them all.

CORIOLANUS:
Have you inform'd them sithence?

BRUTUS:
How! I inform them!

CORIOLANUS:
You are like to do such business.

BRUTUS:
Not unlike,
Each way, to better yours.

CORIOLANUS:
Why then should I be consul? By yond clouds,
Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me
Your fellow tribune.

SICINIUS:
You show too much of that
For which the people stir: if you will pass
To where you are bound, you must inquire your way,
Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit,
Or never be so noble as a consul,
Nor yoke with him for tribune.

MENENIUS:
Let's be calm.

COMINIUS:
The people are abused; set on. This paltering
Becomes not Rome, nor has Coriolanus
Deserved this so dishonour'd rub, laid falsely
I' the plain way of his merit.

CORIOLANUS:
Tell me of corn!
This was my speech, and I will speak't again--

MENENIUS:
Not now, not now.

First Senator:
Not in this heat, sir, now.

CORIOLANUS:
Now, as I live, I will. My nobler friends,
I crave their pardons:
For the mutable, rank-scented many, let them
Regard me as I do not flatter, and
Therein behold themselves: I say again,
In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our senate
The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition,
Which we ourselves have plough'd for, sow'd,
and scatter'd,
By mingling them with us, the honour'd number,
Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that
Which they have given to beggars.

MENENIUS:
Well, no more.

First Senator:
No more words, we beseech you.

CORIOLANUS:
How! no more!
As for my country I have shed my blood,
Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs
Coin words till their decay against those measles,
Which we disdain should tatter us, yet sought
The very way to catch them.

BRUTUS:
You speak o' the people,
As if you were a god to punish, not
A man of their infirmity.

SICINIUS:
'Twere well
We let the people know't.

MENENIUS:
What, what? his choler?

CORIOLANUS:
Choler!
Were I as patient as the midnight sleep,
By Jove, 'twould be my mind!

SICINIUS:
It is a mind
That shall remain a poison where it is,
Not poison any further.

CORIOLANUS:
Shall remain!
Hear you this Triton of the minnows? mark you
His absolute 'shall'?

COMINIUS:
'Twas from the canon.

CORIOLANUS:
'Shall'!
O good but most unwise patricians! why,
You grave but reckless senators, have you thus
Given Hydra here to choose an officer,
That with his peremptory 'shall,' being but
The horn and noise o' the monster's, wants not spirit
To say he'll turn your current in a ditch,
And make your channel his? If he have power
Then vail your ignorance; if none, awake
Your dangerous lenity. If you are learn'd,
Be not as common fools; if you are not,
Let them have cushions by you. You are plebeians,
If they be senators: and they are no less,
When, both your voices blended, the great'st taste
Most palates theirs. They choose their magistrate,
And such a one as he, who puts his 'shall,'
His popular 'shall' against a graver bench
Than ever frown in Greece. By Jove himself!
It makes the consuls base: and my soul aches
To know, when two authorities are up,
Neither supreme, how soon confusion
May enter 'twixt the gap of both and take
The one by the other.

COMINIUS:
Well, on to the market-place.

CORIOLANUS:
Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth
The corn o' the storehouse gratis, as 'twas used
Sometime in Greece,--

MENENIUS:
Well, well, no more of that.

CORIOLANUS:
Though there the people had more absolute power,
I say, they nourish'd disobedience, fed
The ruin of the state.

BRUTUS:
Why, shall the people give
One that speaks thus their voice?

CORIOLANUS:
I'll give my reasons,
More worthier than their voices. They know the corn
Was not our recompense, resting well assured
That ne'er did service for't: being press'd to the war,
Even when the navel of the state was touch'd,
They would not thread the gates. This kind of service
Did not deserve corn gratis. Being i' the war
Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they show'd
Most valour, spoke not for them: the accusation
Which they have often made against the senate,
All cause unborn, could never be the motive
Of our so frank donation. Well, what then?
How shall this bisson multitude digest
The senate's courtesy? Let deeds express
What's like to be their words: 'we did request it;
We are the greater poll, and in true fear
They gave us our demands.' Thus we debase
The nature of our seats and make the rabble
Call our cares fears; which will in time
Break ope the locks o' the senate and bring in
The crows to peck the eagles.

MENENIUS:
Come, enough.

BRUTUS:
Enough, with over-measure.

CORIOLANUS:
No, take more:
What may be sworn by, both divine and human,
Seal what I end withal! This double worship,
Where one part does disdain with cause, the other
Insult without all reason, where gentry, title, wisdom,
Cannot conclude but by the yea and no
Of general ignorance,--it must omit
Real necessities, and give way the while
To unstable slightness: purpose so barr'd,
it follows,
Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore, beseech you,--
You that will be less fearful than discreet,
That love the fundamental part of state
More than you doubt the change on't, that prefer
A noble life before a long, and wish
To jump a body with a dangerous physic
That's sure of death without it, at once pluck out
The multitudinous tongue; let them not lick
The sweet which is their poison: your dishonour
Mangles true judgment and bereaves the state
Of that integrity which should become't,
Not having the power to do the good it would,
For the in which doth control't.

BRUTUS:
Has said enough.

SICINIUS:
Has spoken like a traitor, and shall answer
As traitors do.

CORIOLANUS:
Thou wretch, despite o'erwhelm thee!
What should the people do with these bald tribunes?
On whom depending, their obedience fails
To the greater bench: in a rebellion,
When what's not meet, but what must be, was law,
Then were they chosen: in a better hour,
Let what is meet be said it must be meet,
And throw their power i' the dust.

BRUTUS:
Manifest treason!

SICINIUS:
This a consul? no.

BRUTUS:
The aediles, ho!
Let him be apprehended.

SICINIUS:
Go, call the people:
in whose name myself
Attach thee as a traitorous innovator,
A foe to the public weal: obey, I charge thee,
And follow to thine answer.

CORIOLANUS:
Hence, old goat!

Senators, &C:
We'll surety him.

COMINIUS:
Aged sir, hands off.

CORIOLANUS:
Hence, rotten thing! or I shall shake thy bones
Out of thy garments.

SICINIUS:
Help, ye citizens!

MENENIUS:
On both sides more respect.

SICINIUS:
Here's he that would take from you all your power.

BRUTUS:
Seize him, AEdiles!

Citizens:
Down with him! down with him!

Senators, &C:
Weapons, weapons, weapons!
'Tribunes!' 'Patricians!' 'Citizens!' 'What, ho!'
'Sicinius!' 'Brutus!' 'Coriolanus!' 'Citizens!'
'Peace, peace, peace!' 'Stay, hold, peace!'

MENENIUS:
What is about to be? I am out of breath;
Confusion's near; I cannot speak. You, tribunes
To the people! Coriolanus, patience!
Speak, good Sicinius.

SICINIUS:
Hear me, people; peace!

Citizens:
Let's hear our tribune: peace Speak, speak, speak.

SICINIUS:
You are at point to lose your liberties:
Marcius would have all from you; Marcius,
Whom late you have named for consul.

MENENIUS:
Fie, fie, fie!
This is the way to kindle, not to quench.

First Senator:
To unbuild the city and to lay all flat.

SICINIUS:
What is the city but the people?

Citizens:
True,
The people are the city.

BRUTUS:
By the consent of all, we were establish'd
The people's magistrates.

Citizens:
You so remain.

MENENIUS:
And so are like to do.

COMINIUS:
That is the way to lay the city flat;
To bring the roof to the foundation,
And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges,
In heaps and piles of ruin.

SICINIUS:
This deserves death.

BRUTUS:
Or let us stand to our authority,
Or let us lose it. We do here pronounce,
Upon the part o' the people, in whose power
We were elected theirs, Marcius is worthy
Of present death.

SICINIUS:
Therefore lay hold of him;
Bear him to the rock Tarpeian, and from thence
Into destruction cast him.

BRUTUS:
AEdiles, seize him!

Citizens:
Yield, Marcius, yield!

MENENIUS:
Hear me one word;
Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word.

AEdile:
Peace, peace!

MENENIUS:

BRUTUS:
Sir, those cold ways,
That seem like prudent helps, are very poisonous
Where the disease is violent. Lay hands upon him,
And bear him to the rock.

CORIOLANUS:
No, I'll die here.
There's some among you have beheld me fighting:
Come, try upon yourselves what you have seen me.

MENENIUS:
Down with that sword! Tribunes, withdraw awhile.

BRUTUS:
Lay hands upon him.

COMINIUS:
Help Marcius, help,
You that be noble; help him, young and old!

Citizens:
Down with him, down with him!

MENENIUS:
Go, get you to your house; be gone, away!
All will be naught else.

Second Senator:
Get you gone.

COMINIUS:
Stand fast;
We have as many friends as enemies.

MENENIUS:
Sham it be put to that?

First Senator:
The gods forbid!
I prithee, noble friend, home to thy house;
Leave us to cure this cause.

MENENIUS:
For 'tis a sore upon us,
You cannot tent yourself: be gone, beseech you.

COMINIUS:
Come, sir, along with us.

CORIOLANUS:
I would they were barbarians--as they are,
Though in Rome litter'd--not Romans--as they are not,
Though calved i' the porch o' the Capitol--

MENENIUS:
Be gone;
Put not your worthy rage into your tongue;
One time will owe another.

CORIOLANUS:
On fair ground
I could beat forty of them.

COMINIUS:
I could myself
Take up a brace o' the best of them; yea, the
two tribunes:
But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic;
And manhood is call'd foolery, when it stands
Against a falling fabric. Will you hence,
Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend
Like interrupted waters and o'erbear
What they are used to bear.

MENENIUS:
Pray you, be gone:
I'll try whether my old wit be in request
With those that have but little: this must be patch'd
With cloth of any colour.

COMINIUS:
Nay, come away.

A Patrician:
This man has marr'd his fortune.

MENENIUS:
His nature is too noble for the world:
He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,
Or Jove for's power to thunder. His heart's his mouth:
What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent;
And, being angry, does forget that ever
He heard the name of death.
Here's goodly work!

Second Patrician:
I would they were abed!

MENENIUS:
I would they were in Tiber! What the vengeance!
Could he not speak 'em fair?

SICINIUS:
Where is this viper
That would depopulate the city and
Be every man himself?

MENENIUS:
You worthy tribunes,--

SICINIUS:
He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock
With rigorous hands: he hath resisted law,
And therefore law shall scorn him further trial
Than the severity of the public power
Which he so sets at nought.

First Citizen:
He shall well know
The noble tribunes are the people's mouths,
And we their hands.

Citizens:
He shall, sure on't.

MENENIUS:
Sir, sir,--

SICINIUS:
Peace!

MENENIUS:
Do not cry havoc, where you should but hunt
With modest warr