« ZurückWeiter »
O, no more, no more!
You have said, you will not grant us any thing;
Our wish, which side should win: for either thou
With manacles through our streets, or else
Ay, and on mine, That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name Living to time. Boy. 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.
He shall not tread on me;
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 condemn us, As poisonous of your honour: No; our suit Is, that you reconcile them: while the Volces May say, This mercy have show'd; the Romans, This we receiv'd; and each in either side
Whose chronicle thus writ -The man was noble,
To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o'the air,
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, helieve it, Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd, If not most mortal to him. But, let it come :Autidius, though I cannot make true wars, I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius, 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!
Auf. I am glad, thou hast set thy mercy and thy honour
At difference in thee: out of that I'll work
[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 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.
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 sentenc'd, and stay upon execution.
Sic. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter the condition of man?
Men. There is differency between a grub, and a
For making up this peace! Thou know'st, great son, butterfly; yet your butterfly was a grub. This Mar
Give the all-hail to thee, and cry, Be bless'd
The end of war's uncertain; but this certain,
cius 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 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.
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.
Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain ?
And help the joy.
We will meet them, [Going.
[A Flourish with Drums and Trumpets. Exeunt.
SCENE V. Antium. A public Place. Enter Tallus 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.
Enter three or four Conspirators of Aufidius' Faction. Most welcome!
1 Con. How is it with our general ? Auf.
As with a man by his own alms empoison'd, And with his charity slain.
Most noble sir,
There was it ;For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him. At a few drops of womens' rheum, which are As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour Of our great action; Therefore shall be 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.
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 yon?
Than shame to the Romans: And we here deliver,
Read it not, noble lords;
But tell the traitor, in the highest degree
Cor. Traitor -How now ?—
Ay, traitor, Marcius.
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
Hear'st thou, Mars? Auf. Name not the god, thou boy of tears,Cor.
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 fore'd to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords,
Must give this cur the lie and his own notion
My beating to his grave;) shall join to thrust
Alone I did it.-Boy!
Why, noble lords,
Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, '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 kill'd my son ;-my daughter;
Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak.
O Tullus,2 Lord. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep.
3 Lord. Tread not upon him.-Masters all, be quiet; Put up your swords.
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.
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 Coriolanus. A dead March sounded.
Triumvirs after the death of
Cicero, Publius, Pepilius Lena, Senators.
Flavius and Marullus, Tribunes.
Cinna, a Poet. Another Poet.
Lucilius, Titinius, Messala, young Cato, and Volum-
Varro, Clitus, Claudias, Strato, Lucius, Dardanius,
Conspirators against Julius Pindarus, Servant to Cassius.
Senators, Citizens, Guards, Attendants, &c.
SCENE, during a great part of the Play, at Rome; afterwards at Sardis; and near Philippi.
SCENE I. Rome. A Street.
Enter Flavius, Marullus, and a Rabble of Citizens.
Flav. HENCE; home, you idle creatures, get you Is this a holiday? What know you not, Being mechanical, you ought not walk, Upon a labouring day, without the sign
Of your profession -Speak, what trade art thou? 1 Cie. Why, sir, a carpenter.
Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on 1You, sir; what trade are you?
2 Cit. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.
Mar. But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.
2 Cit. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soals.
Mar. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?
2 Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you. Mar. What meanest thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow?
2 Cit. Why, sir, cobble you.
Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thou?
2 Cit. Truly, sir, all that I live by is, with the awl: I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neatsleather, have gone upon my handiwork.
Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?
2 Cit. Truly sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday, to see Cæsar, and to rejoice in his triumph. Mar. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings What tributaries follow him to Rome, [he home? To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels? You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,
And do you now put on your best attire?
Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Flav. Go, go, good country-men, and for this fault,
If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.
You know, it is the feast of Lupercal.
Be hang with Caesar's trophies. I'll about,
Casca. Bid every noise be still:-Peace yet again. [Music ceases. Cæs. Who is it in the press that calls on me? I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, Cry, Cæsar Speak; Cæsar is turn'd to hear. Sooth. Beware the ides of March. Cas.
What man is that? Bru. A soothsayer, bids you beware the ides of
Cresar. Ces. What say'st thou to me now? Sooth. Beware the ides of March.
Cas. Set him before me, let me see his face.
Caes. He is a dreamer; let us leave him ;-pass. [Sennet. Exeunt all but Bru. and Cas. Cas. Will you go see the order of the course?
Bru. Not I.
Cas. I pray you, do.
Bru. I am not gamesome: I do lack some part Of that quick spirit that is in Antony. Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires; I'll leave you.
Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late: I have not from your eyes that gentleness, And show of love as I was wont to have: You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand Over your friend that loves you.
Of late, with passions of sone difference,
Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviours:
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your pas-
Bru. No, Cassius: for the eye sees not itself,
And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you might see your shadow. I have heard,
Bru. Into what dangers, would you lead me, Cassius,
Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear: And since you know you cannot see yourself So well as by reflection, I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to yourself
That of yourself which you yet know not of.
[Flourish and shout.
If it be aught toward the general good,
Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
was born free as Cæsar; so were you:
And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did.
The old Anchises bear, so, from the waves of Tiber, Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays, Did I the tired Cæsar: And this man
Is now become a god; and Cassius is
A wretched creature, and must bend his body,
If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him.
He had a fever when he was in Spain,
And, when the fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake:
And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world,
Bru. Another general shout!
I do believe, that these applauses are
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about
Men at some time are masters of their fates:
Bru. That you do love me, I am nothing jealous;
I will consider; what you have to say,
I will with patience hear: and find a time
Brutus had rather be a villager,
Than to repute himself a son of Rome
Under these hard conditions, as this time
Is like to lay upon us.
Cas. I am glad, that my weak words.
As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music :
[Exeunt Cæsar and his Train. Casca stays
Casca. You pull'd me by the cloak; Would you speak with me?
Bru. Ay, Casca; tell us what hath chane'd to-day, That Cæsar looks so sad.
Casca. Why, you were with him, were you not? Bru. I should not then ask Casca what hath
Casca. Why, there was a crown offer'd him and being offered him, he put it by with the back of his hand, thus; and then the people fell a shouting. Bru. What was the second noise for! Casca. Why, for that too.
Cas. They shou ́ed thrice; What was the last cry for?
Casca. Why, for that too.
Bru. Was the crown offer'd him thrice?
Casca. Ay, marry, was't, and he put it by thrice, every time gentler than the other; and at every putting by, mine honest neighbours shouted. Cas. Who offered him the crown? Casca. Why, Autony.
Bru. Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca. Casca. I can as well be hanged, as tell the manner of it it was mere foolery. I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown;-yet 'twas not a crown neither, 'twas one of these coronets;-and, as I told you, he put it by once; but, for all that, to my thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he offered it to him again; then he put it by again: but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his fingers off it. And then he offered it the third time; he put it the third time by and stili as he refused it, the rabblement hooted, and clapped their chopped hands, and threw up their sweaty night-caps, and uttered such a deal of stinking breath, because Cæsar refused the crown, that it had almost choked Cæsar; for he swooned, and fell down at it: And for mine own part, I durst not laugh, for fear of opening my lips, and receiving the bad air.
Cas. But, soft, I pray you: What? did Cæsar swoon?
Casca. He fell down in the market-place, and foamed at mouth, and was speechless.
Bru. 'Tis very like he hath the falling-sickness. Cas. No, Cæsar hath it not; but you, and I, And honest Casca, we have the falling-sickness. Casca. I know not what you mean by that; bat, I am sure, Cæsar fell down. If the tag-rag people did not clap him, and hiss him, according as he
Have struck but this much show of fire from Brutus. pleased and displeased them, as they use to do the
Re-enter Cæsar and his Train.
Bru. The games are done, and Cæsar is returning.
Bru. will do so:-But, look you, Cassius,
Cas. Let me have men about me, that are fat; Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o'nights: Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look; He thinks too much such men are dangerous. Ant. Fear him not, Cæsar, he's not dangerous; He is a noble Roman, and well given.
Caes. 'Would he were fatter:-But I fear him not: Yet if my name were liable to fear,
I do not know the man I should avoid
So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much;
players in the theatre, I am no true man.
Bru. What said he, when he came unto himself?
Casca. Marry, before he fell down, when he perceiv'd the common herd was glad he refused the crown, he plucked me ope his doublet, and offered them his throat to cut.-An I had been a man of any occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word, I would I might go to hell among the rogues :-and so he fell. When he came to himself again, he said, If he had done, or said, any thing amiss, he desired their worships to think it was his infirmity. Three or four wenches, where I stood, cried, Alas, good soul!-and forgave him with all their hearts: But there's no heed to be taken of them; if Cæsar had stabbed their mothers, they would have done no less. Bru. And after that, he came, thus sad, away? Casca. Ay.
Cas. Did Cicero say any thing?
Casca. Ay, he spoke Greek.
Cas. To what effect?