The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  More than the instant army we can make,

  Might stop our countryman.

  MENENIUS

  No, I’ll not meddle.

  SICINIUS

  Pray you go to him.

  MENENIUS

  What should I do?

  BRUTUS

  Only make trial what your love can do

  For Rome towards Martius.

  MENENIUS

  Well, and say that Martius return me,

  As Cominius is returned, unheard—what then?

  But as a discontented friend, grief-shot

  With his unkindness? Say’t be so?

  SICINIUS

  Yet your good will

  Must have that thanks from Rome after the measure

  As you intended well.

  MENENIUS

  I’ll undertake’t.

  I think he’ll hear me. Yet to bite his lip

  And ’hmh’ at good Cominius much unhearts me.

  He was not taken well, he had not dined.

  The veins unfilled, our blood is cold, and then

  We pout upon the morning, are unapt

  To give or to forgive; but when we have stuffed

  These pipes and these conveyances of our blood

  With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls

  Than in our priest-like fasts. Therefore I’ll watch him

  Till he be dieted to my request,

  And then I’ll set upon him.

  BRUTUS

  You know the very road into his kindness,

  And cannot lose your way.

  MENENIUS

  Good faith, I’ll prove him.

  Speed how it will, I shall ere long have knowledge

  Of my success.

  Exit

  COMINIUS He’ll never hear him.

  SICINIUS Not?

  COMINIUS

  I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye

  Red as ‘twould burn Rome, and his injury

  The jailer to his pity. I kneeled before him;

  ’Twas very faintly he said ‘Rise’, dismissed me

  Thus with his speechless hand. What he would do

  He sent in writing after me, what he would not,

  Bound with an oath to hold to his conditions.

  So that all hope is vain unless his noble mother

  And his wife, who as I hear mean to solicit him

  For mercy to his country. Therefore let’s hence,

  And with our fair entreaties haste them on.

  Exeunt

  5.2 Enter Menenius to the Watch or guard

  FIRST WATCHMAN Stay. Whence are you?

  SECOND WATCHMAN Stand, and go back.

  MENENIUS You guard like men; ’tis well. But, by your leave, I am an officer Of state, and come to speak with Coriolanus.

  FIRST WATCHMAN From whence?

  MENENIUS

  From Rome.

  FIRST WATCHMAN You may not pass, you must return.

  Our general will no more hear from thence.

  SECOND WATCHMAN

  You’ll see your Rome embraced with fire before

  You’ll speak with Coriolanus.

  MENENIUS Good my friends,

  If you have heard your general talk of Rome

  And of his friends there, it is lots to blanks

  My name hath touched your ears. It is Menenius.

  FIRST WATCHMAN

  Be it so; go back. The virtue of your name

  Is not here passable.

  MENENIUS I tell thee, fellow,

  Thy general is my lover. I have been

  The book of his good acts, whence men have read

  His fame unparalleled happily amplified;

  For I have ever verified my friends,

  Of whom he’s chief, with all the size that verity

  Would without lapsing suffer. Nay, sometimes,

  Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground,

  I have tumbled past the throw, and in his praise

  Have almost stamped the leasing. Therefore, fellow,

  I must have leave to pass.

  FIRST WATCHMAN Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies in his behalf as you have uttered words in your own, you should not pass here, no, though it were as virtuous to lie as to live chastely. Therefore go back.

  MENENIUS Prithee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius, always factionary on the party of your general.

  SECOND WATCHMAN Howsoever you have been his liar, as you say you have, I am one that, telling true under him, must say you cannot pass. Therefore go back.

  MENENIUS Has he dined, canst thou tell? For I would not speak with him till after dinner.

  FIRST WATCHMAN You are a Roman, are you?

  MENENIUS I am as thy general is.

  FIRST WATCHMAN Then you should hate Rome as he does. Can you, when you have pushed out your gates the very defender of them, and in a violent popular ignorance given your enemy your shield, think to front his revenges with the easy groans of old women, the virginal palms of your daughters, or with the palsied intercession of such a decayed dotant as you seem to be? Can you think to blow out the intended fire your city is ready to flame in with such weak breath as this? No, you are deceived, therefore back to Rome, and prepare for your execution. You are condemned, our general has sworn you out of reprieve and pardon.

  MENENIUS Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here, he would use me with estimation.

  FIRST WATCHMAN Come, my captain knows you not.

  MENENIUS I mean thy general.

  FIRST WATCHMAN My general cares not for you. Back, I say, go, lest I let forth your half pint of blood. Back. That’s the utmost of your having. Back.

  MENENIUS Nay, but fellow, fellow—

  Enter Coriolanus with Aufidius

  CORIOLANUS What’s the matter?

  MENENIUS (to First Watchman) Now, you companion, I’ll say an errand for you. You shall know now that I am in estimation. You shall perceive that a jack guardant cannot office me from my son Coriolanus. Guess but by my entertainment with him if thou stand‘st not i’th’ state of hanging, or of some death more long in spectatorship and crueller in suffering. Behold now presently, and swoon for what’s to come upon thee. (To Coriolanus) The glorious gods sit in hourly synod about thy particular prosperity, and love thee no worse than thy old father Menenius does! (Weeping) O, my son, my son, thou art preparing fire for us. Look thee, here’s water to quench it. I was hardly moved to come to thee, but being assured none but myself could move thee, I have been blown out of our gates with sighs, and conjure thee to pardon Rome and thy petitionary countrymen. The good gods assuage thy wrath and turn the dregs of it upon this varlet here, this, who like a block hath denied my access to thee!

  CORIOLANUS Away!

  MENENIUS How? Away?

  CORIOLANUS

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

  Are servanted to others. Though I owe

  My revenge properly, my remission lies

  In Volscian breasts. That we have been familiar,

  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 loved thee, He gives him a letter

  Take this along. I writ it for thy sake,

  And would have sent it. Another word, Menenius,

  I will not hear thee speak.—This man, Aufidius,

  Was my beloved in Rome; yet thou behold’st.

  AUFIDIUS You keep a constant temper.

  Exeunt Coriolanus and Aufidius

  FIRST WATCHMAN Now, sir, is your name Menenius?

  SECOND WATCHMAN ’Tis a spell, you see, of much power.

  You know the way home again.

  FIRST WATCHMAN Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your greatness back?

  SECOND WATCHMAN What cause do you think I have to swoon?

  MENENIUS I neither care for th’ world nor your general. For such thin
gs as you, I can scarce think there’s any, you’re 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

  FIRST WATCHMAN A noble fellow, I warrant him.

  SECOND WATCHMAN The worthy fellow is our general. He’s the rock, the oak, not to be wind-shaken. Exeunt

  5.3 Enter Coriolanus and Aufidius, with Volscian soldiers. ⌈Coriolanus and Aufidius sit⌉

  CORIOLANUS

  We will before the walls of Rome tomorrow

  Set down our host. My partner in this action,

  You must report to th’ Volscian lords how plainly

  I have borne this business.

  AUFIDIUS

  Only their ends

  You have respected, stopped your ears against

  The general suit of Rome, never admitted

  A private whisper, no, not with such friends

  That thought them sure of you.

  CORIOLANUS

  This last old man,

  Whom with a cracked heart I have sent to Rome,

  Loved me above the measure of a father,

  Nay, godded me indeed. Their latest refuge

  Was to send him, for whose old love I have—

  Though I showed sourly to him—once more offered

  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 to. Fresh embassies and suits,

  Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafter

  Will I lend ear to.

  Shout within

  Ha, what shout is this?

  Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow

  In the same time ’tis made? I will not.

  Enter Virgilia, Volumnia, Valeria, Young Martius, with attendants

  My wife comes foremost, then the honoured mould

  Wherein this trunk was framed, and in her hand

  The grandchild to her blood. But out, affection!

  All bond and privilege of nature break;

  Let it be virtuous to be obstinate.⌈Virgilia⌉ curtsies

  What is that curtsy worth? Or those dove’s eyes

  Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not

  Of stronger earth than others.Volumnia bows

  My mother bows,

  As if Olympus to a molehill should

  In supplication nod; and my young boy

  Hath an aspect of intercession which

  Great nature cries ‘Deny not’.—Let the Volsces

  Plough Rome and harrow Italy! I’ll never

  Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand

  As if a man were author of himself

  And knew no other kin.

  VIRGILIA My lord and husband.

  CORIOLANUS

  These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome.

  VIRGILIA

  The sorrow that delivers us thus changed

  Makes you think so.

  CORIOLANUS

  Like a dull actor now

  I have forgot my part, and I am out

  Even to a full disgrace. FRisingl Best of my flesh,

  Forgive my tyranny, but do not say

  For that ‘Forgive our Romans’.

  ⌈viraiha kisses him⌉

  O, a kiss

  Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge!

  Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss

  I carried from thee, dear, and my true lip

  Hath virgined it e‘er since. You gods, I prate,

  And the most noble mother of the world

  Leave unsaluted! Sink, my knee, i’th’ earth.He kneels

  Of thy deep duty more impression show

  Than that of common sons.

  VOLUMNIA O, stand up blest,⌈Coriolanus rises⌉

  Whilst with no softer cushion than the flint

  I kneel before thee, and unproperly

  Show duty as mistaken all this while

  Between the child and parent.

  She kneels

  CORIOLANUS What’s this?

  Your knees to me? To your corrected son?⌈He raises her⌉

  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.

  VOLUMNIA Thou art my warrior.

  I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady?

  CORIOLANUS

  The noble sister of Publicola,

  The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle

  That’s candied by the frost from purest snow

  And hangs on Dian’s temple—dear Valeria!

  VOLUMNIA (showing Coriolanus his son)

  This is a poor epitome of yours,

  Which by th’ interpretation of full time

  May show like all yourself.

  CORIOLANUS (to Young Martius) The god of soldiers,

  With the consent of supreme Jove, inform

  Thy thoughts with nobleness, that thou mayst prove

  To shame unvulnerable, and stick i’th’ wars

  Like a great sea-mark standing every flaw

  And saving those that eye thee!

  VOLUMNIA (to Young Martius) Your knee, sirrah.

  ⌈Young Martius kneels⌉

  CORIOLANUS That’s my brave boy.

  VOLUMNIA

  Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself

  Are suitors to you.

  CORIOLANUS 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 t’allay

  My rages and revenges with your colder reasons.

  VOLUMNIA O, no more, no more!

  You have said you will not grant us anything—

  For we have nothing else to ask but that

  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.

  CORIOLANUS

  Aufidius and you Volsces, mark, for we’ll

  Hear naught from Rome in private.

  ⌈He sits⌉

  Your request?

  VOLUMNIA

  Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment

  And state of bodies would bewray what life

  We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself

  How more unfortunate than all living women

  Are we come hither, since that thy sight, which should

  Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with

  comforts,

  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 neo

  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 recreant be led

  With manacles thorough our streets, or else

  Triumphantly tread on thy country’s ruin,
r />   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.

  VIRGILIA Ay, and mine,

  That brought you forth this boy to keep your name

  Living to time.

  YOUNG MARTIUS A shall not tread on me.

  I’ll run away till I am bigger, but then I’ll fight.

  CORIOLANUS

  Not of a woman’s tenderness to be

  Requires nor child nor woman’s face to see.

  I have sat too long.

  ⌈He rises and turns away⌉

  VOLUMNIA Nay, go not from us thus.

  If it were so that our request did tend

  To save the Romans, thereby to destroy

  The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us

  As poisonous of your honour. No, our suit

  Is that you reconcile them: while the Volsces

  May say ‘This mercy we have showed’, the Romans

  ‘This we received’, and each in either side

  Give the all-hail to thee and cry ‘Be blest

  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 dogged with curses,

  Whose chronicle thus writ: ‘The man was noble,

  But with his last attempt he wiped it out,

  Destroyed his country, and his name remains

  To th’ ensuing age abhorred.’ 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’th’ 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,