Com. O, you have made good work!
Men.
What news? what news?
Com. You have holp to ravish your own
daughters, and

To melt the city leads upon your pates;
To see your wives dishonour'd to your noses;
Men. What's the news? what's the news?
Com. Your temples burned in their cement;
and

Your franchises, whereon you stood, confin'd
Into an augre's bore.
Men.
Pray now, your news?-
You have made fair work, I fear me :-Pray,|
your news?

If Marcius should be join'd with Volcians,-
Com.

If!
He is their god; he leads them like a thing
Made by some other deity than nature,
That shapes men better: and they follow him,
Against us brats, with no less confidence,
Than boys pursuing summer butterflies,
Or butchers killing flies.

Men. You have made good works, You, and your apron men; you that stood so Upon the voice of occupation, and The breath of garlick-eaters!

Com.

Your Rome about your cars. Men.

(much

He will shake As Hercules

Did shake down mellow fruit: You have made
Bru. But is this true, sir? [fair work!
Com.
Ay; and you'll look pale
Before you find it other. All the regions
Do smilingly revolt, and, who resist,
Are only mock'd for valiant ignorance, [him?
And perish constant fools. Who is't can blame
Your enemies, and his, find something in him.
Mn. We are all undone, unless
The noble men have mercy.

Com.
Who shall ask it?
The tribunes cannot do't for shame; the people
Deserve such pity of him, as the wolf
Does of the shepherds: for his best friends, if
they
[even
Should say, Be good to Rome, they charg'd him
As those should do that had deserv'd his hate,
And therein show'd like enemies.

Men,

'Tis true

If he were putting to my house the brand
That should consume it, I have not the face
To say, 'Beseech you, cease.-You have made fair
hands,

You, and your crafts! you have crafted fair!
Com.
You have brought

A trembling upon Rome, such as was never
So incapable of help.

Tri.

Say not, we brought it. Men. How! Was it we? We lov'd him; but, like beasts,

And cowardly nobles, gave way to your clusters,
Who did hoot him out o' the city.
Com.

But, I fear
They'll roar him in again. Tullus Aufidius,
The second name of men, obeys his points
As if he were his officer:-Desperation
Is all the policy, strength, and defence,
That Rome can make against them.
Enter a Troop of Citizens.

Men. Here come the clusters.And is Aufidius with them ?-You are they That made the air unwholesome, when you cast Your stinking, greasy caps, in hooting at Coriolanus' exile. Now he's coming; And not a hair upon a soldier's head, [combs, Which will not prove a whip: as many coxAs you threw caps up will he tumble down, And pay you for your voices. "Tis no matter; If he could burn us all into one coal,

We have deserv'd it.

Cit. 'Faith, we hear fearful news. 1 Cit. For mine own part, When I said, banish him, I said, 'twas pity. 2 Cit. And so did I.

3 Cit. And so did I; and, to say the truth, so did very many of us; That we did, we did for the best: and though we willingly consented to his banishment, yet it was against our will. Com You are goodly things, you voices! Men. You have made Good work, you and your cry!-Shall us to the Com. O, ay; what else? [Capitol? [Exeunt COMINIUS and MENENIUS.

Sic. Go, masters, get you home, be not dismay'd;

These are a side, that would be glad to have This true, which they so seem to fear. Go home, And show no sign of fear,

1 Cit. The gods be good to us! Come, masters, let's home. I ever said, we were i' the wrong, when we banished him.

2 Cit. So did we all. But come, let's home.
[Exeunt Citizens.

Bru. I do not like this news.
Sie. Nor I.

[wealth
Bru. Let's to the Capitol:-Would, half my
Would buy this for a lie!
Sic.

Pray let us go. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII.

[but

A Camp; at a small distance from Rome. Enter AUFIDIUS, and his Lieutenant. Auf. Do they still fly to the Roman? Lieu. I do not know what witchcraft's in him; Your soldiers use him as the grace 'fore meat, Their talk at table, and their thanks at end; And you are darken'd in this action, sir, Even by your own. Auf. I cannot help it now; Unless by using means, I lame the foot Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier Even to my person, than I thought he would, When first I did embrace him: Yet his nature In that's no changeling; and I must excuse What cannot be amended. Lieu.

Yet, wish, sir,

(I mean for your particular), you had not
Join'd in commission with him: but either
Had borne the action of yourself or else
To him had left it solely.

Auf. I understand thee well: and be thou sure,
When he shall come to his account, he knows not
What I can urge against him. Although it seems,
And so he thinks, and is no less apparent
To the vulgareye, that he bears all things fairly,
And shows good husbandry for the Volcian state;
Fights dragon-like, and does achieve as soon
As drawhissword; yet he hath left undone
That,which shall break his neck, or hazard mine,
Whene'er we come to our account. [Rome?
Lieu, Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry
Auf. All places yield to him ere he sits down;
And the nobility of Rome are his:

The senators, and patricians, love him too:
The tribunes are no soldiers; and their people
Will be as rash in the repeal, as hasty
To expel him thence. I think, he'll be to Rome,
As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it
By sovereignty of nature. First he was
A noble servant to them; but he could not
Carry his honours even: whether 'twas pride,
Which out of daily fortune ever taints
The happy man; whether defect of judgment,
To fail in the disposing of those chances
Which he was lord of; or whether nature,
Not to be other than one thing, not moving
From the casque to the cushion, but command-

ing peace

Even with the same austerity and garb
As he controll'd the war; but, one of these
(As he hath spices of them all, not all,
For I dare so far free him), made him fear'd,
So hated, and so banish'd: But he has a merit,
To choke it in the utterance. So our virtues
Lie in the interpretation of the time:
And power, unto itself most commendable,
Hath not a tomb so evident as a hair
To extol what it hath done.

One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail; Rights by rights fouler, strength by strengths do fail.

Come let's away. When, Caius, Rome is thine, Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou mine. [Exeunt.

Art Fifth.

SCENE I. Rome. A publick Place. Enter MENENIUS, COMINIUS, SICINIUS, BRUTUS, and Others.

Men. No, I'll not go; you hear, what he hath said, [him Which was sometime his general; who loved In a most dear particular. He call'd me, father; But what o' that? Go, you that banish'd him, A mile before his tent fall down, and kneel The way into his mercy: Nay, if he be coy'd To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home. Com. He would not seem to know me. Men. Do you hear? Com. Yet one time he did call me by my name; I urg'd our old acquaintance, and the drops That we have bled together. Coriolanus He would not answer to: forbad all names; He was a kind of nothing, titleless, Till he had forg'd himself a name i' the fire Of burning Rome.

Men. Why so you have made good work: A pair of tribunes that have rack'd for Rome,

Com. I offer'd to awaken his regard For his private friends: His answer to me was, He could not stay to pick them in a pile Of noisome, musty chaff: He said, 'twas folly, For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt, And still to nose the offence. Men. For one poor grain Or two? I am one of those; his mother, wife, His child, and this brave fellow too, we are the grains;

You are the musty chaff; and you are smelt Above the moon: We must be burnt for you.

Sic. Nay, pray, be patient: If you refuse your In this so never-needed help, yet do not [aid Upbraid us with our distress. But sure, if you Would be your country's pleader, your good tongue,

More than the instant army we can make,
Might stop our countryman.

Men.

Sic. Pray you, go to him. Men.

No; I'll not meddle.

What should I do?

Return me, as Cominius is return'd
Unheard; what then?

But as a discontented friend, grief-shot
With his unkindness? Say't be so?
Sic.
Yet your good will
Must have that thanks from Rome, after the
As you intended well.
[measure
Men.

I'll undertake it:
I think he'll hear me. Yet to bite his lip,
And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me.
He was not taken well; he had not din'd:
The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then
We pout upon the morning, are unapt
To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd
These pipes and these conveyances of our blood
With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls
Than in our priest-like fasts: therefore it
Till he be dieted to my request, [watch him
And then I'll set upon him.

Bru. You know the very road into his kindAnd cannot lose your way. [ness,

Men. Good faith, I'll prove him, Speed how it will, I shall ere long have knowledge

He'll never hear him.

[Exit.

Not?

Of my success.
Com.
Sic.
Com. I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye
Red as 'twould burn Rome; and his injury
The gaoler to his pity. I kneel'd before him;
'Twas very faintly he said Rise; dismiss'd me
Thus, with his speechless hand; What he
would do.

He sent in writing after me; what he would not,

Bound with an oath to yield to his conditions:
So, that all hope is vain,

Unless his noble mother, and his wife;
Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him
For mercy to his country. Therefore let's
hence,

And with our fair entreaties haste them on.
[Exeunt.

1 G. Be it so; go back: the virtue of your Is not here passable. [name Men.

I tell thee, fellow,
The general is my lover: I have been
The book of his good acts, whence men have
read

His fame unparallel'd, haply, amplified;
For I have ever verified my friends [verity
(Of whom he's 'chief), with all the size that
Would without lapsing suffer: nay, sometimes,
Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground, [praise
I have tumbled past the throw; and in his
Have, almost, stamp'd the leasing: Therefore,
I must have leave to pass.
[fellow,

1 G. 'Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies in his behalf, as you have uttered words in your own, you should not pass here: no, though it were as virtuous to lie, as to live chastely. Therefore, go back.

Men. Prythee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius, always factionary on the party of your general.

2 G. Howsoever you have been his liar (as you say, you have), I am one that, telling true under him, must say, you cannot pass. Therefore, go back.

Men, Has he dined, canst thou tell? for I would not speak with him till after dinner. 1 G. You are a Roman, are you? Jen. I am as thy general is.

Enter CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS. Cor. What's the matter?

The

Men. Now, you companion, I'll say an errand for you! you shall know now that I am in estimation; you shall perceive that a jack guardant cannot office me from my son Coriolanus: guess, but by my entertainment with him, if thou stand'st not i' the state of hanging, or of some death more long in spectatorship, and crueller in suffering; behold now presently,and swoon for what's to come upon thee. glorious gods sit in hourly synod about thy particular prosperity, and love thee no worse than thy old father Menenius does; O, my son! my son! thou art preparing fire for us; look thee here's water to quench it. I was hardly moved to come to thee; but being assured none but myself could move thee, I have been blown out of your gates with sighs; and conjure thee to pardon Rome, and thy petitionary countrymen. The good gods assuage thy wrath, and turn the dregs of it upon this varlet here; this, who, like a block, hath denied my access Cor. Away! [to thee. [affairs

Men. How away! Cor. Wife, mother, child, I know not. My Are servanted to others: Though I owe My revenge properly, my remission lies In Volcian breasts. That we have been familiar, Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison, rather Than pity note how much.-Therefore, be gone. Mine cars against your suits are stronger, than Your gates against my force. Yet, for I lov'd thee, Take this along; I writ it for thy sake,

[Gives a letter. And would have sent it. Another word, Menenius, I will not hear thee speak.-This man, Aufidius, Was my beloved in Rome: yet thou behold'stAuf. You keep a constant temper.

[Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS. 1 G. Now, sir, is your name Menenius? 2 G. 'Tis a spell, you see, of much power. You know the way home again.

1 G. Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your greatness back? [swoon? 2 G. What cause do you think, I have to Men. I neither care for the world, nor your general: for such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, you are so slight. He that hath a will to die by himself, fears it not from another. Let your general do his worst. For you, be that you are, long, and your misery increase with your age! I say to you, as I was said to, Away!

[Exeunt.

Men. Sirrah, If thy captain knew I were here, he would use me with estimation.

2 G. Come, my captain knows you not. Men. I mean, thy general.

1 G. My general cares not for you. Back, I say go, lest I set forth your half pint of blood; -back-that's the utmost of your having: Men. Nay, but fellow, fellow,

[back.

SCENE III. The tent of Coriolanus. Enter CORIOLANUS, AUFIDIUS, and Others Cor. We will before the walls of Rome to

morrow

Set down our host.-My partner in this action,
You must report to the Volcian lords, how
I have borne this business.
[plainly

Auf.
Only their ends
You have respected? stopp'd your ears against
The general suit of Rome; never admitted
A private whisper, no, not with such friends
That thought them sure of you.
Cor.
This last old man,
Whom with a crack'd heart I have sent to Rome,

Loved me above the measure of a father: Nay, godded me, indeed. Their latest refuge Was to send him: for whose old love, I have (Though I show'd sourly to him) once more offer'd

The first conditions, which they did refuse, And cannot now accept, to grace him only, That thought he could do more; a very little I have yielded to: Fresh embassies, and suits, Not from the state, nor private friends, hereafter

Will I lend ear to.--Ha! what shout is this; [Shout within.

Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow
In the same time 'tis made? I will not-
Enter, in mourning habits, VIRGILIA, VOLUMNIA,
leading young MARCIUS, VALERIA, and Attend-

ants.

My wife comes foremost: then the honour'd mould

am not

Wherein this trunk was fram'd, and in her hand
The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affection!
All bond and privilege of nature, break!
Let it be virtuous, to be obstinate,-
What is that curt'sy worth; or those doves' eyes,
Which can make gods fors worn?-I melt, and
[bows,
Of stronger earth than others.-My mother
As if Olympus to a molehill should
In supplication nod: and my young boy
Hath an aspect of intercession, which
Great nature cries, Deny not.-Let the Volces
Plough Rome, and harrow Italy; I'll never
Be such a gosling to obey instinet; but stand,
As if a man were author of himself,
And knew no other kin.

Vir.
My lord and husband!
Cor. These eyes are not the same I wore in
Rome.

Vir. The sorrow, that delivers us thus chang'd,
Makes you think so.
Cor.
Like a dull actor, now,
I have forgot my part, and I am out,
Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh,
Forgive my tyranny, but do not say,
For that, Forgive our Romans.-O, a kiss
Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge!
Now by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss
I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip
Hath virgin'd it e'er since. You gods; I prate,
And the most noble mother of the world
Leave unsaluted: Sink, my knee, i' the earth;
[Kneels.

Of thy deep duty more impression show
Than that of common sons.
Vol.
O, stand up bless'd!
Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint,
1 kneel before thee; and unproperly
Show duty, as mistaken all the while
Between the child and parent.
[Kneels.
Cor.
What is this?
Your knees to me? to your corrected son?
Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach
Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds
Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun;
Murd'ring impossibility, to make
What cannot be, slight work.
Vol.
Thou art my warrior;
I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady?
Cor, The noble sister of Publicola,
The moon of Rome; chaste as the icicle,
That's curded by the frost from purest snow,
And hangs on Dian's temple; Dear Valeria!
Vel. This is a poor epitome of yours,
Which by the interpretation of full time

May show like all yourself
Cor.
The god of soldiers,
With the consent of supreme Jove, inform
Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou may'st
prove

To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' the wars
Like a great sea mark, standing every flaw,
And saving those that eye thee!
Vol.

Your knee, sirrah.
Cor. That's my brave boy.
Vol. Even he, your wife, this lady and myself,
Are suitors to you.
Cor.
I beseech you, peace:
Or, if you'd ask, remember this before;
The things, I have forsworn to grant, may never
Be held by you denials. Do not bid me
Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate
Again with Rome's mechanicks:-Tell me not
Wherein I seem unnatural: Desire not
To allay my rages and revenges,
With your colder reasons.
Vol.
O no more, no more!
You have said, you will not grant us any thing;
For we have nothing else to ask, but that
Which you deny already: Yet we will ask;
That, if you fail in our request, the blame [us.
May hang upon your hardness: therefore hear
Gor, Aufidius, and you Volces, mark; for we'll
Hear nought from Rome in private.-Your
request?
{raiment

Vol. Should we be silent and not speak, our And state of bodies, would bewray what life We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself,

How more unfortunate than all living women Are we come hither: since that thy sight, which should [comforts. Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with Constrains them weep, and shake with fear and

sorrow;

Making the mother, wife, and child, to see
The son, the husband, and the father, tearing
His country's bowels out. And to poor we,
Thine enmity's most capital: thou barr'st us
Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort
That all but we enjoy: For how can we,
Alas! how can we for our country pray,
Whereto we are bound; together with thy vic-
tory,

Where to we are bound? Alack! or we must lose
The country, our dear nurse! or else thy person,
Our comfort in the country. We must find
An evident calamity, though we had [thou
Our wish, which side should win: for either
Must, as a foreign recreant, be led
With manacles through our streets, or else
Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin;
And bear the palm, for having bravely shed
Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son,
I purpose not to wait on fortune, till
These wars determine: if I cannot persuade
thee

Rather to show a nobler grace to both parts,
Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner
March to assault thy country, than to tread
(Trust to't, thou shalt not) on thy mother's
That brought thee to this world. [womb.
Vir.
Ay, and on mine,
That brought you forth this boy, to keep your
Living to time.
[name
Boy.
He shall not tread on me;
I'll run away, till I am bigger, but then I'll fight.
Cor. Not of a woman's tenderness to be,
Requires nor child nor woman's face to see.
I have sat too long.
[Rising.

Vol.
Nay, go not from us thus.
If it were so, that our request did tend
To save the Romans, thereby to destroy
The Volces whom you serve, you might con-
demn us,

As poisonous of your honour; No; our suit
Is, that you reconcile them; while the Volces
May say, This mercy we have show'd; the Romans,
This we receiv'd; and each in either side
Give the all-hail to thee, and cry, Ee bless'd
For making up this peace! Thou know'st, great

son,

The end of war's uncertain; but this certain,
That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit
Which thou shalt thereby reap, is such a name,
Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses:
Whose chronicle thus writ,-The man was noble,
But with his last attempt he wip'd it out:
Destroy'd his country; and his name remains
To the ensuing age abhorr'd. Speak to me, son:
Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour,
To imitate the graces of the gods;

To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' the air,
And yet to charge thy sulphur with a holt
That should but rive an oak. Why dost not
speak?

you:

Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man Still to remember wrongs?-Daughter, speak [boy He cares not for your weeping.-Speak thou, Perhaps, thy childishness will move him more Than can our reasons.-There is no man in the world [me prate More bound to his mother; yet here he lets Like one i' the stocks. Thou hast never in thy

life

Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy;
When she (poor hen!) fond of no second brood,
Has cluck'd thee to the wars, and safely home,
Loaden with honour. Say, my request's unjust,
And spurn me back: But if it be not so, [thee,]
Thou art not honest; and the gods will plague
That thou restrain'st from me the duty, which
To a mother's part belongs.-He turns away:
Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees.
To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride,
Than pity to our prayers. Down; an end:
This is the last;-So we will home to Rome,
And die among our neighbours.-Nay, behold

us:

This boy, that cannot tell what he would have,
But kneels, and holds up hands, for fellowship,
Does reason our petition with more strength
Than thou hast to deny't.-Come, let us go:
This fellow had a Volcian to his mother;
His wife is in Corioli, and his child
Like him by chance:-Yet give us our despatch;
I am hush'd until our city be afire,
And then I'll speak a little.
Cor.
O mother, mother!
[Holding VOLUMNIA by the Hands, silent.
What have you done? Behold, the heavens do

ope,
The gods look down, and this unnatural scene
They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O!
You have won a happy victory to Rome:
But, for your son,-believe it, O, believe it,
Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd,
If not most mortal to him. But, let it come:-
Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars,
I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufi-
dius,

Were you in my stead, say, would you have heard
A mother less? or granted less, Aufidius?
Auf. I was mov'd withal.

Cor. And, sir, it is no little thing, to make Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir, What peace you'll make, advise me: For my part, [you,

I dare be sworn, you were:

I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and pray Stand to me in this cause.-O mother! wife! duf. I am glad thou hast set thy mercy and thy honour

At difference in thee; out of that I'll work
Myself a former fortune.

Cor.

[Aside.

[The Ladies make signs to CORIOLANUS. Ay, by and by;

[TO VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, &c.

But we will drink together; and you shall bear
A better witness back than words, which we,
On like conditions, will have counterseal'd.
Come enter with us. Ladies, you deserve
To have a temple built you: all the swords
In Italy, and her confederate arms,
Could not have made this peace.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Rome. A publick Place. Enter MENENIUS and SICINIUS. Men. See you youd' coign o' the Capitol: yond' corner stone?

Sic. Why, what of that?

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

Sic. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter the condition of a man?

Men. There is differency between a grub and a butterfly: yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown from man to dragon; he has wings; he's more than a creeping thing.

Sic. He loved his mother dearly.

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

Sic. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly.

Men. I paint him in the character, Mark what mercy his mother shall bring from him: There is no more mercy in him, than there is milk in a male tiger; that shall our poor city find: and all this is 'long of you.

Sic. The gods be good unto us!

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