Corioli. A Public Place. |
|
Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, with Attendants. |
Auf. Go tell the lords o' 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: dispatch. [Exeunt Attendants. |
|
Enter three or four Conspirators of AUFIDIUS' faction. |
Most welcome! |
First Con. How is it with our general? |
Auf. Even so |
As with a man by his own alms empoison'd, |
And with his charity slain. |
Sec. 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. |
Third Con. The people will remain uncertain whilst |
'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either |
Makes the survivor heir of all. |
Auf. I know it; |
And my pretext to strike at him admits |
A good construction. I rais'd him, and I pawn'd |
Mine honour for his truth: who being so heighten'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. |
Third 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 projects to accomplish, |
My best and freshest men; serv'd his designments |
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. |
First Con. So he did, my lord: |
The army marvell'd at it; and, in the last, |
When we 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. |
First Con. Your native town you enter'd like a post, |
And had no welcomes home; but he returns, |
Splitting the air with noise. |
Sec. Con. And patient fools, |
Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear |
With giving him glory. |
Third 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. |
First Lord. And grieve to hear 't. |
What faults he 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. |
|
And grieve to hear 't. |
What faults he 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 return'd 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 upon him, that |
Must bear my beating to his grave—shall join |
To thrust the lie unto him. |
First 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 Volscians in Corioli: |
Alone I did it. Boy! |
Auf. 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? |
Conspirators. Let him die for 't. |
All the People. Tear him to pieces.—Do it presently.—He killed my son.—My daughter.—He killed my cousin Marcus.—He killed my father. |
Sec. Lord. Peace, ho! no outrage: peace! |
The man is noble and his fame folds in |
This orb o' the earth. His last offences to us |
Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius, |
And trouble not the peace. |
Cor. O! that I had him, |
With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, |
To use my lawful sword! |
Auf. Insolent villain! |
Conspirators. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him! [AUFIDIUS and the Conspirators draw, and kill CORIOLANUS, who falls: AUFIDIUS stands on his body. |
Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold! |
Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak. |
First Lord. O Tullus! |
Sec. Lord. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep. |
Third 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. |
First 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. |
Sec. 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 CORIOLANUS. A dead march sounded. |
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