Cor. Wife, mother, child, I know not. affairs

Are servanted to others: Though I owe
My revenge properly, my remission lies
In Volscian breasts. That we have been
miliar,

My

Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison, rather
Than pity note how much.-Therefore, be gone.
Mine ears 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, nenius,

1 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 AUFID. 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?

2 G. What cause, do you think, I have to swoon?

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! [Exit.

1 G. A noble fellow, I warrant him. 2 G. The worthy fellow is our general: He is the rook, the oak not to be wind-shaken.

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 too: Fresh embassies, and suits,
Nor 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, Vo
LUMNIA, leading young MARCIUS, VALERIA,

and ATTENDANTS.

Of thy deep duty more impression show
Than that of common sons.

Vol. Oh! stand up bless'd!
Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint
I kneel before thee; and unproperly
Show duty, as mistaken all the while
Between the child and parent.

Cor. What is this?

[Kneels

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!
Vol. 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, t
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 mechanics: Tell me not
Wherein I seem unnatural: Desire not
To allay my rages and revenges, with
Your colder reasons.

Vol. Oh! no more, no more!
For we have nothing else to ask, but that
You have said, you will not grant us any thing;
Which you deny already: Yet we will ask,
That, if you fail in our request, the blame
May hang upon your hardness: therefore hear us.
Cor. Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark; for
we'll
[quest?
Hear nought from Rome in private.-Your re-
Vol. Should we be silent and not speak, our

Make your eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comfort,

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 victory,
Whereto 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

Our wish, which side should win for either thou
Must, as a foreign miscreant, 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 noble 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 womb,
That brought thee to this world.

Vir. Ay, and on mine,

demu us,

As poisonous of your honour: No; our suit
Is, that you reconcile them: while the Volsces
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, Be 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;
Destroyed 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 bolt
That should but rive an oak. Why dost not
speak?

Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man
Still to remember wrongs ?—Daughter, speak you;
He cares not for your weeping.-Speak thou, boy:
Perhaps thy childishness will move him more
Than can our reasons.-There is no man in the
world
[prate
More bound to his mother; yet here he lets me
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 too the wars, and safely home,
Loaden with honour. Say, my request's unjust,
And spurn me back: But, if it be not so,
Thou art not honest; and the gods will plague
thee,

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 Volscian 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, oh! 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 Au-
fidius,

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

Cor. I dare be sworn you were:
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,
I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and pray

you,

Stand to me in this cause. O mother! wife! Auj. 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. [Aside. [The ladies make signs to CORIOLANUS. Cor. 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 counter-seal'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 public Place. Enter MENENIUS and SICINIUS. Men. See you yond' 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. • Angle. + Stay but for it.

To resemble.

1 Chair of state.

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.

Enter a MESSENGER.

Mess. Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to your house :

The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune,
And hale him up and down; all swearing, if
The Roman ladies bring not comfort home,
They'll give him death by inches.

Enter another MESSENGER.

Sic. What's the news?

Mess. Good news, good news :-The ladies have prevail'd,

The Volsces are dislodg'd, and Marcius gone:
A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,
No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins.
Sic. Friend,

Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain ?
Mess. As certain as I know the sun is fire:
Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it?
Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide,
As the recomforted through the gates. Why hark
you;

[Trumpets and Hautboys sounded, and Drums beaten, all together. Shouting also within. The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes, Tabors, and cymbals, and the shouting Romans, Make the sun dance. Hark you!

[Shouting again.

Men. This is good news:
I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia
Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians,
A city full of tribunes such as you,

A sea and land full: You have pray'd well to-day;
This morning, for ten thousand of your throats
I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy!
[Shouting and Music.
Sic. First, the gods bless you for their tidings:
Accept my thankfulness.
[next,

Mess. Sir, we have al

Great cause to give great thanks, Sic. They are near the city? Mess. Almost at point to enter. Sic. We will meet them,

And help the joy.

[Going.

Enter the Ladies, accompanied by SENATORS, PATRICIANS, and People. They pass over the Stage.

1 Sen. Behold our patroness, the life of Rome: Call all your tribes together, praise the gods, And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before them :

Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius, Repeal him with the welcome of his mother; Cry, Welcome, ladies, Welcome !

All. Welcome, ladies!

Welcome!

(A flourish with Drums and Trumpets. [Exeunt.

SOENE V.-Antium.-A Public Place. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, with Attendants. Auf. Go tell the lords of the city, I am here: Deliver them this paper: having read it, Bid them repair to the market-place; where I, Even in theirs and in the commons' ears, Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse, The city ports by this hath enter'd, and Intends to appear before the people, hoping To purge himself with words: Despatch. [Exeunt Attendants.

DIUS'S Faction.

1 Con. How is it with our general?
Auf. Even 80,

As with a man by his own alms empoison'd,
And with his charity slain.

2 Con. Most noble Sir,

If you do hold the same intent wherein
You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you
Of your great danger.

Auf. Sir, I cannot tell :

We must proceed, as we do find the people.

3 Con. The people will remain uncertain, whilst 'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either Makes the survivor heir of all.

ten'd,

| He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery,
Seducing so my friends; and, to this end,
He bow'd his nature, never known before
But to be rough, unswayable, and free,
3 Con. Sir, his stoutness,

When he did stand for consul, which he lost
By lack of stooping,-

Auf. That I would have spoke of :
Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth;
Presented to my knife his throat; I took him;
Made him joint-servant with me; gave him way
In all his own desires; nay, let him choose
Out of my files, his project to accomplish,
My best and freshest meu; serv'd his designmen ́s
In mine own person; holp to reap the fame,
Which he did end all his; and took some pride
To do myself this wrong; till, at the last,
I seem'd his follower, not partner; and
He wag'd me with his countenance, † as if
I had been mercenary.

1 Con. So he did, my lord:

The army marvell'd at it. And, in the last, When he had carried Rome, and that we look'd For no less spoil than glory,

Auf. There was it ;

For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him.
At a few drops of women's rheum, which are
As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour
Of our great action: Therefore shall he die
And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark!

[Drums and Trumpets sound, with great
shouts of the People.

1 Con. Your native town you enter'd like a post, And had no welcomes home; but he returns, Splitting the air with noise.

2 Con. And patient fools, whose children he hath slain, their base throats

tear,

With giving him glory.

3 Con. Therefore, at your vantage, Ere he express himself, or move the people With what he would say, let him feel your sword, Which we will second. When he lies along, After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury His reasons with his body.

Auf. Say no more:

Here come the lords.

Enter the LORDS of the City.

Lords. You are most welcome home.
Auf. I have not deserv'd it:

But, worthy lords, have you with heed perus d
What I have written to you?
Lords. We have.

1 Lord. And grieve to hear it.
What faults be made before the last, I think,
Might have found easy fines: but there to end,
Where he was to begin, and give away
The benefit of our levies, answering us
With our own charge; making a treaty, where
There was a yielding; This admits no excuse.

Auf. He approaches, you shall hear him.

Enter CORIOLANUS, with Drums and Colours;
a Crowd of CITIZENS with him.
Cor. Hail, lords! I am returned your soldier;
No more infected with my country's love,
Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting
Under your great command. You are to know,
That prosperously I have attempted, and,
With bloody passage led your wars, even to
The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought

home,

Do more than counterpoise, a full third part,
The charges of the action. We have made peace,
With no less honour to the Antiates,
Than shame to the Romans; and we here deliver,
Subscrib'd by the consuls and patricians,
Together with the seal o'the senate, what
We have compounded on.

Auf. Read it not, noble lords;

But tell the traitor in the highest degree
He hath abus'd your powers.

Cor. Traitor!-How now?
Auf. Ay, traitor, Marcius.
Cor. Marcius!

Auf. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius: Dost thou think

I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name
Coriolanus in Corioli ?-

You lords and heads of the state, perfidiously
He has betray'd your business, and given up
For certain drops of salt your city Rome
(I say, your city) to his wife and mother:
Breaking his oath and resolution, like
A twist of rotten silk: never admitting
Counsel o'the war; but at his nurse's tears
He whin'd and roar'd away your victory;
That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart
Look'd wondering each at other.

Cor. Hear'st thou, Mars?

Auf. Name not the god, thou boy of tears,Cor. Ha!

Auf. No more. ↑

Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave !Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever I was forc'd to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords,

Must give this cur the lie and his own notion
(Who wears my stripes impress'd on him that
must bear

My beating to his grave,) shall join to thrust
The lie unto him.

1 Lord. Peace, both, and hear me speak.
Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volsces: men and lads,
Stain all your edges on me.-Boy! False hound!
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,

That like an eagle in a dove-cote, I Flutter'd your voices in Corioli: Alone I did it.-Boy!

Auf. why, noble lords,

which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, 'Fore your own eyes and ears?

Con. Let him die for't. [Several speak at once. Cit. [Speaking promiscuously.] Tear him to pieces, do it presently. He killed my son :--my daughter;-He killed my cousin Marcius;--He killed my father.

2 Lord. Peace, ho;-no outrage ;-peace. This orb o'the earth. The man is noble, and his fanie folds in His last offence to us

Shall have judicious hearing.-Stand, Aufidius, And trouble not the peace.

Cor. Oh! that I had him,

With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe,
To use my lawful sword!

Auf. Insolent villain!

Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him!

[AUFIDIUS and the CONSPIRATORS draw, and kill CORIOLANUS, who falls, and AUFIDIUS stands on him.

Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold!

Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak.

1 Lord. O Tullus!

2 Lord. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep.

3 Lord. Tread not upon him.-Masters, all, be Put up your swords. [quiet:

Auf. My lords, when you shall know (as in

this rage,

Provok'd by him, you cannot,) the great danger
Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice
That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours
To call me to your senate, I'll deliver
Myself your loyal servant, or endure
Your heaviest censure.

1 Lord. Bear from hence his body,

And mourn you for him: let him be regarded

As the most noble corse that ever herald
Did follow to his urn.

2 Lord. His own impatience

Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.
Let's make the best of it.

Auf. My rage is gone,

And I am struck with sorrow.-Take him up:
Help, three o'the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.-
Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully:
Trail your steel pikes.-Though in this city he
Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail the injury,
Yet he shall have a noble memory.
Assist. [Exeunt, bearing the body of CORIOLA-
NUS. A dead March sounded.
† Judicial.

His fame overspreads the world.