Lart. Worthy sir, thou bleed'st; Tby exercise hath been too violent for A second course of fight. Mar. Sir, praise me not: Holding Corioli in the name of Rome, Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, Com. Where is that slave, My work hath not yet warm'd me: fare you well. Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? The blood I drop is rather physical Than dangerous to me. I will appear, and fight. To Aufidius thus Lart. Now the fair goddess, Fortune, Mur. Thy friend no less Than those she placeth highest! So, farewell! SCENE VI. NEAR THE CAMP OF COMINIUS. Enter Cominius and forces, retreating. we are come off Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, May give you thankful sacrifice!-Thy news? [since? Com. Though thou speak'st truth, Com. 'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their Mess. Spies of the Volces Held me in chase, that I was forc'd to wheel Enter Marcius. Com. Who's youder, That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods! Mar. Come I too late? [tabor, Com. The shepherd knows not thunder from a More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue, From every meaner man's. Mar. Come I too late? We have at disadvantage fought, and did Mar. How lies their battle? Know you on They have plac'd their men of trust? Com. As guess, Marcius, Their bands in the vaward are the Antiates, Mar. I do beseech you, By all the battles wherein we have fought, Com. Though I could wish You were conducted to a gentle bath, That most are willing:-If any such be here If any think, brave death outweighs bad life, Com. Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, Though thanks to all, must I select: the rest But mantled in your own. Mar. O let me clip you In arms as sound, as when I woo'd; in heart Com. Flower of warriors, Mar. As with a man busied about decrees: Condemning some to death, and some to exile; Ransoming him, or pitying, threat'ning the other; and Caius Marcius, enters with a Lieutenant, a party of soldiers, and a scout. Lart. So, let the ports be guarded: keep your duties, As I have set them down. If I do send, despatch Lieu. Fear not our care, sir. Lart. Hence, and shut your gates upon us.— Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct us. [exeunt. SCENE VIII. A FIELD OF BATTLE BETWEEN THE ROMAN AND THE VOLSCIAN CAMPS. Alarum; enter Marcius and Aufidius. Mar. I'll fight with none but thee; for I do Worse than a promise-breaker. Auf. We hate alike; Not Afric owns a serpent, I abhor [hate thee More than thy fame and envy: fix thy foot. Mar. Let the first budger die the other's slave, And the gods doom him after! Auf. If I fly, Marcius, Halloo me like a hare. Mar. Within these three hours, Tullus, Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, And made what work I pleas'd; 'tis not my blood, Wherein thou see'st me mask'd; for thy revenge, Wrench up thy power to the highest. Auf. Wert thou the Hector, That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny, [exeunt fighting, driven in by Marcius. SCENE IX. THE ROMAN CAMP. Alarum; o retreat is sounded. Flourish: enter, at one side, Cominius and Romans; at the other side, Marcius, with his arm in a scarf, and other Romans. Com. If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work, Thou❜lt 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 quak'd, hear more; where the dull tribunes, That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours, Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast, Enter Titus Lartius,with his power, from the pursuit. Here is the steed, we the caparison: The value of her own: 'twere a concealment Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude, Mar. I thank you, general; But cannot make my heart consent to take [a long flourish; they all cry, Mareius! Marcius! cast up their caps and lances: Cominius and Lartius stand bare. Mar. May these same instruments, which you profane, [shall Never sound more! When drums and trumpets I'the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be Made all of false-fac'd soothing: when steel grows Soft as the parasite's silk, let him be made An overture 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 lov'd my little should be dieted In praises sauc'd with lies. Com. 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 incens'd, we'll put you (Like one that means his proper harm), in manacles, Then reason safely with you. Therefore, be it As to us, to all the world, that CaiusMarcius[known, 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! [flourish; trumpets sound, and drums. All. Caius Marcius Coriolanus! Cor. I will go wash; And when my face is fair, you shall perceive Com. So, to our tent: Where, ere we do repose us, we will write Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome SCENE 1. ROME. A PUBLIC PLACE, I have fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me; If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, 1 Sol. He's the devil. Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle: my valour's Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to the city 1 Sol. Will not you go? Auf. I am attended at the cypress grove: (Tis south the city mills), bring me word thither ACT II Enter Menenius, Sicinius, and Brutus. Men. The augurer tells me, we shall have news to night. Bru. Good or bad? Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius. Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. [exeunt. angry at your pl asures; at the least, if you take it as pleasure to you, in being so. You blame Marcius for being proud? Bru. We do it not alone, sir Men. 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 infantlike, for doing much alone. You talk of pride; O, that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of Men. Ay, to devour him; as the hungry ple- your good selves! O, that you could! beians would the noble Marcius. Bru. He's a lamb, indeed, that baes like a bear. Men. 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 Tri. Well, sir. Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor, that you two have not in abundance? Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stored with Bru. And topping all others in boasting. Both Tri. Why, how are we censured?, Men. Because you talk of pride now, will you not be angry? Both Tri. Well, well, sir, well. Men. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience: give your disposition the reins, and be Bru. What then, sir? Men. Why then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy, magistrates (alias, fools,) as any in Rome. Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough too. Men. I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tyber 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 weals-men 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 cannot 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 9時 tell, you have good faces. If you see this in the map of my microcosm, follows it, that I am known well enough too? What harm can your bisson conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too? Bru. Come, sir, come, we know you well enough. Men. 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 threepence to a second day of audience.-When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you chance to be pinched with the cholic, you make faces like mummers; set up the bloody flag against all patience; and, in roaring for a chamberpot, 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. Bru. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table, than a necessary bencher in the Capitol. Men. 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 all your predecessors, since Deucalion; though, peradventure, some of the best of them were hereditary hangmen. Good e'en 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. [Bru. and Sic. retire to the back of the scene. Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, Valeria, &c. How now, my as fair as noble ladies, (and the moon, were she earthly, no nobler,) whither do you follow your eyes so fast? Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for the love of Juno, let's go. Men. Ha! Marcius coming home? Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosperous approbation. Men. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee: -Hoo! Marcius coming home? Two Ladies. Nay, 'tis true. Vol. Look, here's a letter from him; the state hath another, his wife another; and, I think, there's one at home for you. Men. I will make my very house reel to-night: -A letter for me! Vir. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw it. Men. 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 empiricutick, and, to this preservative, of no better report than a horsedrench. Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded. Vir. O, no, no, no. Men. So do I too, if it be not too much.-Brings' a victory in his pocket!—The wounds become him. Vol. On's brows, Menenius: he comes the third time home with the oaken garland. Men. Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly? Vol. Titus Lartius writes,-they fought together, but Aufidius got off. Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that: an he had staid 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? Vol. 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. Val. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him. Men. Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing. Vir. The gods grant them true! Men. True? I'll be sworn they are true.— Where is he wounded?-God save your good worships! [to the tribunes, who come forward] Marcius is coming home: he has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded? Vol. 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. Men. One in the neck, and two in the thigh,— there's nine that I know. Vol. He had, before this last expedition twentyfive wounds upon him. Men. Now it's twenty-seven; every gash was an enemy's grave, [a shout and flourish.] Hark! the trumpets. Vol. 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. A sennet; trumpets sound: enter Cominius and Titus Lartius; between them, Coriolanus, crowned with an oaken garland; with Captains, Soldiers, and a Herald. Her. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight Com. Look, sir, your mother. You have, I know, petition'd all the gods Vol. Nay, my good soldier, up; [knee. [home Cor. My gracious silence, hail! Wouldst thou have laugh'd, had I come coffin'd Vol O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't. That weep'st to see me triumph? Ay, my dear, Com. Ever right. Cor. Menenius, ever, ever. Her. Give way there, and go on. Cor. Your hand,and yours: [to his wife and mother. Ere in our own house I do shade my head, 'The good patricians must be visited; From whom I have received not only greetings, But with them change of honours. Vol. I have lived To see inherited my very wishes, And the buildings of my fancy: only there Is one thing wanting, which I doubt not, but Cor. Know, good mother, I had rather be their servant in my way, Com. On, to the Capitol. [flourish; cornets: exeunt in state, as before; the tribunes remain. Bru. 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 Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges hors'd Sic. On the sudden, I warrant him consul. Bru. Then our office may, During his power, go sleep. Sic. He cannot temperately transport his honours From where he should begin, and end; but will Lose those that he hath won. To him, or our authorities. For an end, Of no more soul, nor fitness for the world, Sic. This, as you say, suggested At some time when his soaring insolence Enter a Messenger. Bru. What's the matter. Mess. You are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis thought, That Marcius shall be consul: I have scen The dumb men throng to see him, and the blind To hear him speak: the matrons flung their gloves, Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs, 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. Bru. Let's to the Capitol; And carry with us ears and eyes for the time, Sic. Have with you. SCENE II. THE SAME. THE CAPITOL. [exeunt Enter two Officers, to lay cushions. 1 Of Come, come, they are almost here: how many stand for consulships? 2 Off. Three, they say: but 'tis thought of every one, Coriolanus will carry it. 1 Off. That's a brave fellow; but he's vengeance proud, and loves not the common people. 2 Off. 'Faith, there have been many great men that have flatter'd 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 upou no better ground, therefore, .F |