Rome. A Street. |
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Cornets. Enter CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS, COMINIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, Senators, and Patricians. |
Cor. Tullus Aufidius then had made new head? |
Lart. He had, my lord; and that it was which caus'd |
Our swifter composition. |
Cor. So then the Volsces stand but as at first, |
Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make road |
Upon 's again. |
Com. They are worn, lord consul, so, |
That we shall hardly in our ages see |
Their banners wave again. |
Cor. Saw you Aufidius? |
Lart. On safe-guard he came to me; and did curse |
Against the Volsces, for they had so vilely |
Yielded the town: he is retir'd to Antium. |
Cor. Spoke he of me? |
Lart. He did, my lord. |
Cor. How? what? |
Lart. How often he had met you, sword to sword; |
That of all things upon the earth he hated |
Your person most, that he would pawn his fortunes |
To hopeless restitution, so he might |
Be call'd your vanquisher. |
Cor. At Antium lives he? |
Lart. At Antium. |
Cor. I wish I had a cause to seek him there, |
To oppose his hatred fully. Welcome home. |
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Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS. |
Behold! these are the tribunes of the people, |
The tongues o' the common mouth: I do despise them; |
For they do prank them in authority |
Against all noble sufferance. |
Sic. Pass no further. |
Cor. Ha! what is that? |
Bru. It will be dangerous to go on: no further. |
Cor. What makes this change? |
Men. The matter? |
Com. Hath he not pass'd the noble and the common? |
Bru. Cominius, no. |
Cor. Have I had children's voices? |
First Sen. Tribunes, give way; he shall to the market-place. |
Bru. The people are incens'd against him. |
Sic. Stop, |
Or all will fall in broil. |
Cor. Are these your herd? |
Must these have voices, that can yield them now, |
And straight disclaim their tongues? What are your offices? |
You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth? |
Have you not set them on? |
Men. Be calm, be calm. |
Cor. It is a purpos'd thing, and grows by plot, |
To curb the will of the nobility: |
Suffer't, and live with such as cannot rule |
Nor ever will be rul'd. |
Bru. Call't not a plot: |
The people cry you mock'd them, and of late, |
When corn was given them gratis, you repin'd; |
Scandall'd the suppliants for the people, call'd them |
Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness. |
Cor. Why, this was known before. |
Bru. Not to them all. |
Cor. Have you inform'd them sithence? |
Bru. How! I inform them! |
Cor. You are like to do such business. |
Bru. Not unlike, |
Each way, to better yours. |
Cor. Why then should I be consul? By yond clouds, |
Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me |
Your fellow tribune. |
Sic. You show too much of that |
For which the people stir; if you will pass |
To where you are bound, you must inquire your way, |
Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit; |
Or never be so noble as a consul, |
Nor yoke with him for tribune. |
Men. Let's be calm. |
Com. The people are abus'd; set on. This paltering |
Becomes not Rome, nor has Coriolanus |
Deserv'd this so dishonour'd rub, laid falsely |
I' the plain way of his merit. |
Cor. Tell me of corn! |
This was my speech, and I will speak't again,— |
Men. Not now, not now. |
First Sen. Not in this heat, sir, now. |
Cor. Now, as I live, I will. My nobler friends, |
I crave their pardons: |
For the mutable, rank-scented many, let them |
Regard me as I do not flatter, and |
Therein behold themselves: I say again, |
In soothing them we nourish 'gainst our senate |
The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition, |
Which we ourselves have plough'd for, sow'd and scatter'd, |
By mingling them with us, the honour'd number; |
Who lack'd not virtue, no, nor power, but that |
Which they have given to beggars. |
Men. Well, no more. |
First Sen. No more words, we beseech you. |
Cor. How! no more! |
As for my country I have shed my blood, |
Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs |
Coin words till they decay against those measles, |
Which we disdain should tetter us, yet sought |
The very way to catch them. |
Bru. You speak o' the people, |
As if you were a god to punish, not |
A man of their infirmity. |
Sic. 'Twere well |
We let the people know't. |
Men. What, what? his choler? |
Cor. Choler! |
Were I as patient as the midnight sleep, |
By Jove, 'twould be my mind! |
Sic. It is a mind |
That shall remain a poison where it is, |
Not poison any further. |
Cor. Shall remain! |
Hear you this Triton of the minnows? mark you |
His absolute 'shall?' |
Com. 'Twas from the canon. |
Cor. 'Shall!' |
O good but most unwise patricians! why, |
You grave but reckless senators, have you thus |
Given Hydra here to choose an officer, |
That with his peremptory 'shall,' being but |
The horn and noise o' the monster's, wants not spirit |
To say he'll turn your current in a ditch, |
And make your channel his? If he have power, |
Then vail your ignorance; if none, awake |
Your dangerous lenity. If you are learned, |
Be not as common fools; if you are not, |
Let them have cushions by you. You are plebeians |
If they be senators; and they are no less, |
When, both your voices blended, the great'st taste |
Most palates theirs. They choose their magistrate, |
And such a one as he, who puts his 'shall,' |
His popular 'shall,' against a graver bench |
Than ever frown'd in Greece. By Jove himself! |
It makes the consuls base; and my soul aches |
To know, when two authorities are up, |
Neither supreme, how soon confusion |
May enter 'twixt the gap of both and take |
The one by the other. |
Com. Well, on to the market-place. |
Cor. Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth |
The corn o' the store-house grátis, as 'twas us'd |
Sometime in Greece,— |
Men. Well, well; no more of that. |
Cor. Though there the people had more absolute power, |
I say, they nourish'd disobedience, fed |
The ruin of the state. |
Bru. Why, shall the people give |
One that speaks thus their voice? |
Cor. I'll give my reasons, |
More worthier than their voices. They know the corn |
Was not our recompense, resting well assur'd |
They ne'er did service for 't. Being press'd to the war, |
Even when the navel of the state was touch'd, |
They would not thread the gates: this kind of service |
Did not deserve corn gratis. Being i' the war, |
Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they show'd |
Most valour, spoke not for them. The accusation |
Which they have often made against the senate, |
All cause unborn, could never be the motive |
Of our so frank donation. Well, what then? |
How shall this bisson multitude digest |
The senate's courtesy? Let deeds express |
What's like to be their words: 'We did request it; |
We are the greater poll, and in true fear |
They gave us our demands.' Thus we debase |
The nature of our seats, and make the rabble |
Call our cares, fears; which will in time break ope |
The locks o' the senate, and bring in the crows |
To peck the eagles. |
Men. Come, enough. |
Bru. Enough, with over-measure. |
Cor. No, take more: |
What may be sworn by, both divine and human, |
Seal what I end withal! This double worship, |
Where one part does disdain with cause, the other |
Insult without all reason; where gentry, title, wisdom, |
Cannot conclude, but by the yea and no |
Of general ignorance,—it must omit |
Real necessities, and give way the while |
To unstable slightness: purpose so barr'd, it follows |
Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore, beseech you,— |
You that will be less fearful than discreet, |
That love the fundamental part of state |
More than you doubt the change on 't, that prefer |
A noble life before a long, and wish |
To jump a body with a dangerous physic |
That's sure of death without it, at once pluck out |
The multitudinous tongue; let them not lick |
The sweet which is their poison. Your dishonour |
Mangles true judgment, and bereaves the state |
Of that integrity which should become it, |
Not having the power to do the good it would, |
For the ill which doth control 't. |
Bru. He has said enough. |
Sic. He has spoken like a traitor, and shall answer |
As traitors do. |
Cor. Thou wretch! despite o'erwhelm thee! |
What should the people do with these bald tribunes? |
On whom depending, their obedience fails |
To the greater bench. In a rebellion, |
When what's not meet, but what must be, was law, |
Then were they chosen: in a better hour, |
Let what is meet be said it must be meet, |
And throw their power i' the dust. |
Bru. Manifest treason! |
Sic. This a consul? No. |
Bru. The ædiles, ho! Let him be apprehended. |
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Enter an Ædile. |
Sic. Go, call the people; [Exit Ædile] in whose name, myself |
Attach thee as a traitorous innovator, |
A foe to the public weal: obey, I charge thee, |
And follow to thine answer. |
Cor. Hence, old goat! |
Sen. We'll surety him. |
Com. Aged sir, hands off. |
Cor. Hence, rotten thing! or I shall shake thy bones |
Out of thy garments. |
Sic. Help, ye citizens! |
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Re-enter Ædiles, with Others, and a rabble of Citizens. |
Men. On both sides more respect. |
Sic. Here's he that would take from you all your power. |
Bru. Seize him, ædiles! |
Citizens. Down with him!—down with him!— |
Sen. Weapons!—weapons!—weapons!— [They all bustle about CORIOLANUS, crying |
Tribunes!—patricians!—citizens!—What ho!— |
Sicinius!—Brutus!—Coriolanus!—Citizens! |
Peace!—Peace!—Peace!—Stay!—Hold!—Peace! |
Men. What is about to be?—I am out of breath; |
Confusion's near; I cannot speak. You, tribunes |
To the people! Coriolanus, patience! |
Speak, good Sicinius. |
Sic. Hear me, people; peace! |
Citizens. Let's hear our tribune:—Peace!—Speak, speak, speak. |
Sic. You are at point to lose your liberties: |
Marcius would have all from you; Marcius, |
Whom late you have nam'd for consul. |
Men. Fie, fie, fie! |
This is the way to kindle, not to quench. |
First Sen. To unbuild the city and to lay all flat. |
Sic. What is the city but the people? |
Citizens. True, |
The people are the city. |
Bru. By the consent of all, we were establish'd |
The people's magistrates. |
Citizens. You so remain. |
Men. And so are like to do. |
Com. That is the way to lay the city flat; |
To bring the roof to the foundation, |
And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges, |
In heaps and piles of ruin. |
Sic. This deserves death. |
Bru. Or let us stand to our authority, |
Or let us lose it. We do here pronounce, |
Upon the part o' the people, in whose power |
We were elected theirs, Marcius is worthy |
Of present death. |
Sic. Therefore lay hold of him; |
Bear him to the rock Tarpeian, and from thence |
Into destruction cast him. |
Bru. Ædiles, seize him! |
Citizens. Yield, Marcius, yield! |
Men. Hear me one word; |
Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word. |
Æd. Peace, peace! |
Men. Be that you seem, truly your country's friends, |
And temperately proceed to what you would |
Thus violently redress. |
Bru. Sir, those cold ways, |
That seem like prudent helps, are very poisonous |
Where the disease is violent. Lay hands upon him, |
And bear him to the rock. |
Cor. No, I'll die here. [Drawing his sword. |
There's some among you have beheld me fighting: |
Come, try upon yourselves what you have seen me. |
Men. Down with that sword! Tribunes, withdraw awhile. |
Bru. Lay hands upon him. |
Men. Help Marcius, help, |
You that be noble; help him, young and old! |
Citizens. Down with him!—down with him! [In this mutiny the Tribunes, the Ædiles, and the People are beat in. |
Men. Go, get you to your house; be gone, away! |
All will be naught else. |
Sec. Sen. Get you gone. |
Cor. Stand fast; |
We have as many friends as enemies. |
Men. Shall it be put to that? |
First Sen. The gods forbid! |
I prithee, noble friend, home to thy house; |
Leave us to cure this cause. |
Men. For 'tis a sore upon us, |
You cannot tent yourself: be gone, beseech you. |
Com. Come, sir, along with us. |
Cor. I would they were barbarians,—as they are, |
Though in Rome litter'd,—not Romans,—as they are not, |
Though calv'd i' the porch o' the Capitol,— |
Men. Be gone; |
Put not your worthy rage into your tongue; |
One time will owe another. |
Cor. On fair ground |
I could beat forty of them. |
Men. I could myself |
Take up a brace o' the best of them; yea, the two tribunes. |
Com. But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic; |
And manhood is call'd foolery when it stands |
Against a falling fabric. Will you hence, |
Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend |
Like interrupted waters and o'erbear |
What they are us'd to bear. |
Men. Pray you, be gone. |
I'll try whether my old wit be in request |
With those that have but little: this must be patch'd |
With cloth of any colour. |
Com. Nay, come away. [Exeunt CORIOLANUS, COMINIUS, and Others. |
First Pat. This man has marr'd his fortune. |
Men. His nature is too noble for the world: |
He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, |
Or Jove for 's power to thunder. His heart's his mouth: |
What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent; |
And, being angry, does forget that ever |
He heard the name of death. [A noise within. |
Here's goodly work! |
Sec. Pat. I would they were a-bed! |
Men. I would they were in Tiber! What the vengeance! |
Could he not speak 'em fair? |
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Re-enter BRUTUS and SICINIUS, with the rabble. |
Sic. Where is this viper |
That would depopulate the city and |
Be every man himself? |
Men. You worthy tribunes,— |
Sic. He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock |
With rigorous hands: he hath resisted law, |
And therefore law shall scorn him further trial |
Than the severity of the public power, |
Which he so sets at nought. |
First Cit. He shall well know |
The noble tribunes are the people's mouths, |
And we their hands. |
Citizens. He shall, sure on't. |
Men. Sir, sir,— |
Sic. Peace! |
Men. Do not cry havoc, where you should but hunt |
With modest warrant. |
Sic. Sir, how comes 't that you |
Have holp to make this rescue? |
Men. Hear me speak: |
As I do know the consul's worthiness, |
So can I name his faults. |
Sic. Consul! what consul? |
Men. The Consul Coriolanus. |
Bru. He consul! |
Citizens. No, no, no, no, no. |
Men. If, by the tribunes' leave, and yours, good people, |
I may be heard, I would crave a word or two, |
The which shall turn you to no further harm |
Than so much loss of time. |
Sic. Speak briefly then; |
For we are peremptory to dispatch |
This viperous traitor. To eject him hence |
Were but one danger, and to keep him here |
Our certain death; therefore it is decreed |
He dies to-night. |
Men. Now the good gods forbid |
That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude |
Towards her deserved children is enroll'd |
In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam |
Should now eat up her own! |
Sic. He's a disease that must be cut away. |
Men. O! he's a limb that has but a disease; |
Mortal to cut it off; to cure it easy. |
What has he done to Rome that's worthy death? |
Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost,— |
Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he hath |
By many an ounce,—he dropp'd it for his country; |
And what is left, to lose it by his country, |
Were to us all, that do't and suffer it, |
A brand to th' end o' the world. |
Sic. This is clean kam. |
Bru. Merely awry: when he did love his country |
It honour'd him. |
Men. The service of the foot |
Being once gangren'd, is not then respected |
For what before it was. |
Bru. We'll hear no more. |
Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence, |
Lest his infection, being of catching nature, |
Spread further. |
Men. One word more, one word. |
This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find |
The harm of unscann'd swiftness, will, too late, |
Tie leaden pounds to's heels. Proceed by process; |
Lest parties—as he is belov'd—break out, |
And sack great Rome with Romans. |
Bru. If 'twere so,— |
Sic. What do ye talk? |
Have we not had a taste of his obedience? |
Our ædiles smote? ourselves resisted? Come! |
Men. Consider this: he has been bred i' the wars |
Since he could draw a sword, and is ill school'd |
In bolted language; meal and bran together |
He throws without distinction. Give me leave, |
I'll go to him, and undertake to bring him |
Where he shall answer by a lawful form,— |
In peace,—to his utmost peril. |
First Sen. Noble tribunes, |
It is the humane way: the other course |
Will prove too bloody, and the end of it |
Unknown to the beginning. |
Sic. Noble Menenius, |
Be you then as the people's officer. |
Masters, lay down your weapons. |
Bru. Go not home. |
Sic. Meet on the market-place. We'll attend you there: |
Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed |
In our first way. |
Men. I'll bring him to you. |
[To the Senators.] Let me desire your company. He must come, |
Or what is worst will follow. |
First Sen. Pray you, let's to him. [Exeunt. |
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