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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.
Com.
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.

Lart.

I shall, my lord. Cor. The gods begin to mock me. I that now Refus'd more princely gifts, am bound to beg Of my lord general. Com.

Take it: 'tis yours.-What is't? Cor. 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. Com. O, well begg'd! Were he the butcher of my son, he should Be free, as the wind. Deliver him, Titus. Lart. Marcius, his name? Cor.

By Jupiter, forgot:I am weary; yea, my memory is tir'd.Have we no wine here?

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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 is mine, or I am his: Mine emulation
Hath not that honor 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;
Ör wrath, or craft, may get him.

1 Sol.
He's the devil.
Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle: My valor'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 his heart. Go you to the

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ACT II.

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Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius.

Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.
Men. Pray you, who does the wolf love?
Sic. The lamb.

Men. Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians 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 shall ask you.

Both Trib. Well, sir.

I

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 all.

Sic. Especially in pride.

Bru. And topping all others in boasting. Men. 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 Trib. Why, how are we censured?

Add more by doing his best.

Enter into articles.

$ Chief men.

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Men. Because you talk of pride now,-Will you not be angry?

Both Trib. 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 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?

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 infant-like, 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 your good selves! O, that you could! 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 favoring 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, • Poke, push.

▾ Whereas.

Waited for.

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 gave 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 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 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.

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 honorable 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.

[Buc. and Sic. retire to the back of the Scene. Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and 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. Honorable 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 empiricutic, and to this preservative, of no better report than a horse-drench.

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Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded.

Vir. O, no, no, no.

Vol. O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't. Men. So do I too, if it be not too much:-Brings a victory in his pocket?-The wounds become him.

Val. 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!
Vol. True pow, wow.

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

Within Corioli' gates: where he hath won,
With fame a name to Caius Marcius; these
In honor follows, Coriolanus:
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!

[Flourish.
All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!
Cor. No more of this, it does offend my heart;
Pray now, no more.
Com.
Cor.
You have, I know, petition'd all the gods
For my prosperity.

Look, sir, your mother.

O!

[Kneels.

Vol.
Nay, my good soldier, up
My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and
By deed-achieving honor newly nam'd,
What is it? Coriolanus, must I call thee?
But O, thy wife-
Cor.

My gracious silence, hail!
• Graceful.

3 Flourish on cornets.

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Wouldst thou have laugh'd, had I come coffin'd home,

That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah, my dear,
Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear,
And mothers that lack sons.

Men. Now the gods crown thee!

Cor. And live you yet? O my sweet lady,
pardon.
[To VALERIA.
Vol. I know not where to turn:-O welcome
home;

And welcome, general;—And you are welcome all. Men. A hundred thousand welcomes: I could weep,

And I could laugh; I am light, and heavy: Wel

come:

A curse begin at every root of his heart,
That is not glad to see thee!-You are three,
That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith of

men,

Sic. Doubt not, the commoners, for whom we stand,

But they, upon their ancient malice, will
Forget, with the least cause, these his new honors;
Which that he'll give them, make as little question
As he is proud to do't.

Bru.
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.
Sic.
"Tis right.

Bru. It was his word: O, he would miss it,
rather

Than carry it, but by the suit o' the gentry to him,
And the desires of the nobles.
Sic.

I wish no better, Than have him hold that purpose, and put it

We have some old crab-trees here at home, that In execution.

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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,

1 But with them change of honors.

Vol.

To see inherited my very wishes,

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To him, or our authorities. For an end,
We must suggest the people in what hatred
He still hath held them; that to his 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 their war; who have their provand3
I have lived Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows
For sinking under them.

And the buildings of my fancy: only there
Is one thing wanting, which I doubt not, but
Our Rome will cast upon thee.

Cor.
Know, good mother,
I had rather be their servant in my way,
Than sway with them in theirs.
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 Her richest lockram" 'bout her reechy' neck, Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks,

windows,

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Bru.

Enter a Messenger.

What's the matter? Mess. You are sent for to the Capitol. "Tis thought

That Marcius should be consul: I have seen
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,
But hearts for the event.
Sic.

Have with you. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The Capitol.

Enter two Officers, to lay Cushions.

1 Off. 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

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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.

1 Off. 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 they 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.

2 Off. 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 heave them at all into their estimation and report: but he hath so planted his honors 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.

1 Off. No more of him; he is a worthy man: Make way, they are coming.

A Sennet. Enter, with Lictors before them, COMINIUS, the Consul, MENENIUS, CORIOLANUS, many other Senators, SICINIUS, and BRUTUS. The Senators take their places; the Tribunes take theirs also by themselves.

Men. Having determin'd of the Volces, 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 meet here, both to thank and to remember With honors like himself.

1 Sen. 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.

ple,

Masters o' the peo

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I had rather have my wounds to heal again,
Than hear say how I got them.
Bru.
Sir, I hope,

My words disbench'd you not.
Cor.
No, sir; yet oft
When blows have made me stay, I fled from words.
You sooth'd not, therefore hurt not: But your
people,

I love them as they weigh.
Men.
Pray now, sit down.
Cor. 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.

Men.

[Exit CORIOLANUS. Masters o' 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 honor, Than one of his ears to hear it?-Proceed, Co

minius.

Com. I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus Should not be utter'd feebly.-It is held, That valor is the chiefest virtue, and

6

Most dignifies the haver: if it be,
The man I speak of cannot in the world
Be singly counterpois'd. At sixteen years,
When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fough
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: he 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 prov'd best man o'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 o' 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 waves 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 o' 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.

Men.

Worthy man!

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3 Cit. 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 colored 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. 2 Cit. Think you so? Which way, do you judge, my wit would fly?

:

3 Cit. Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another man's will, 'tis strongly wedged up in a blockhead: but if it were at liberty, 'twould, sure, southward. 2 Cit. Why that way?

3 Cit. 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.

2 Cit. You are never without your tricks :-You may, you may.

3 Cit. 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.

Enter CORIOLANUS and MENENIUS. Here he comes, and in the gown of humility: mark his behavior. We are not to say altogether, 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 honor, in giving him our own voices with our own tongues: therefore, follow me, and I'll direct you how you shall go by him.

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The worthiest men have done it?

Cor.

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.

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

Think upon me? Hang 'em! I would they would forget me, like the virtues Which our divines lose by them. Men.

You'll mar all; I'll leave you: pray you, speak to them, I pray you, In wholesome manner. [Exit.

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1 Cit. Once, if he do require our voices, we ought And keep their teeth clean.-So here comes a not to deny him.

2 Cit. We may, sir, if we will.

3 Cit. 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.

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

1 Avarice.

brace.

You know the cause, sir, of my standing here. 1 Cit. We do, sir; tell us what hath brought you to't.

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