The Same. The Capitol. |
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Enter two Officers to lay cushions. |
First Off. Come, come, they are almost here. How many stand for consulships? |
Sec. Off. Three, they say; but 'tis thought of every one Coriolanus will carry it. |
First Off. That's a brave fellow; but he's vengeance proud, and loves not the common people. |
Sec. Off. Faith, there have been many great men that have flattered 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 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. |
First 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. |
Sec. 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 have them at all into their estimation and report; but he hath so planted his honours 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. |
First Off. No more of him; he is a worthy man: make way, they are coming. |
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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 Volsces, 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 honours like himself. |
First 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. [To the Tribunes.] |
Masters o' the people, |
We do request your kindest ears, and, after, |
Your loving motion toward the common body, |
To yield what passes here. |
Sic. We are convented |
Upon a pleasing treaty, and have hearts |
Inclinable to honour and advance |
The theme of our assembly. |
Bru. Which the rather |
We shall be bless'd to do, if he remember |
A kinder value of the people than |
He hath hereto priz'd them at. |
Men. That's off, that's off; |
I would you rather had been silent. Please you |
To hear Cominius speak? |
Bru. Most willingly; |
But yet my caution was more pertinent |
Than the rebuke you give it. |
Men. He loves your people; |
But tie him not to be their bedfellow. |
Worthy Cominius, speak. [CORIOLANUS rises, and offers to go away. |
Nay, keep your place. |
First Sen. Sit, Coriolanus; never shame to hear |
What you have nobly done. |
Cor. Your honours' pardon: |
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. [Exit. |
Men. Masters of 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 honour |
Than one on 's ears to hear it. Proceed, Cominius. |
Com. I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus |
Should not be utter'd feebly. It is held |
That valour is the chiefest virtue, and |
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 fought |
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 i' 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 of 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 weeds 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 tim'd with dying cries: alone he enter'd |
The mortal gate of the city, which he painted |
With shunless destiny; aidless came off, |
And with a sudden re-enforcement 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! |
First Sen. He cannot but with measure fit the honours |
Which we devise him. |
Com. Our spoils he kick'd at, |
And look'd upon things precious as they were |
The common muck o' the world: he covets less |
Than misery itself would give; rewards |
His deeds with doing them, and is content |
To spend the time to end it. |
Men. He's right noble: |
Let him be call'd for. |
First Sen. Call Coriolanus. |
Off. He doth appear. |
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Re-enter CORIOLANUS. |
Men. The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleas'd |
To make thee consul. |
Cor. I do owe them still |
My life and services. |
Men. It then remains |
That you do speak to the people. |
Cor. I do beseech you, |
Let me o'erleap that custom, for I cannot |
Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them, |
For my wounds' sake, to give their suffrage: please you, |
That I may pass this doing. |
Sic. Sir, the people |
Must have their voices; neither will they bate |
One jot of ceremony. |
Men. Put them not to 't: |
Pray you, go fit you to the custom, and |
Take to you, as your predecessors have, |
Your honour with your form. |
Cor. It is a part |
That I shall blush in acting, and might well |
Be taken from the people. |
Bru. [Aside to SICINIUS.] Mark you that? |
Cor. To brag unto them, thus I did, and thus; |
Show them the unaching scars which I should hide, |
As if I had receiv'd them for the hire |
Of their breath only! |
Men. Do not stand upon't. |
We recommend to you, tribunes of the people, |
Our purpose to them; and to our noble consul |
Wish we all joy and honour. |
Sen. To Coriolanus come all joy and honour! [Flourish. Exeunt all but SICINIUS and BRUTUS. |
Bru. You see how he intends to use the people. |
Sic. May they perceive 's intent! He will require them, |
As if he did contemn what he requested |
Should be in them to give. |
Bru. Come; we'll inform them |
Of our proceedings here: on the market-place |
I know they do attend us. [Exeunt. |
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