To play till doomsday. Bring our crown and all.
Wherefore’s this noise?
Exit Iras. A noise within
Enter a Guardsman
Guard
Here is a rural fellow
That will not be denied your highness presence:
He brings you figs.
Cleopatra
Let him come in.
Exit Guardsman
What poor an instrument
May do a noble deed! he brings me liberty.
My resolution’s placed, and I have nothing
Of woman in me: now from head to foot
I am marble-constant; now the fleeting moon
No planet is of mine.
Re-enter Guardsman, with Clown bringing in a basket
Guard
This is the man.
Cleopatra
Avoid, and leave him.
Exit Guardsman
Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there,
That kills and pains not?
Clown
Truly, I have him: but I would not be the party that should desire you to touch him, for his biting is immortal; those that do die of it do seldom or never recover.
Cleopatra
Rememberest thou any that have died on’t?
Clown
Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of them no longer than yesterday: a very honest woman, but something given to lie; as a woman should not do, but in the way of honesty: how she died of the biting of it, what pain she felt: truly, she makes a very good report o’ the worm; but he that will believe all that they say, shall never be saved by half that they do: but this is most fallible, the worm’s an odd worm.
Cleopatra
Get thee hence; farewell.
Clown
I wish you all joy of the worm.
Setting down his basket
Cleopatra
Farewell.
Clown
You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind.
Cleopatra
Ay, ay; farewell.
Clown
Look you, the worm is not to be trusted but in the keeping of wise people; for, indeed, there is no goodness in worm.
Cleopatra
Take thou no care; it shall be heeded.
Clown
Very good. Give it nothing, I pray you, for it is not worth the feeding.
Cleopatra
Will it eat me?
Clown
You must not think I am so simple but I know the devil himself will not eat a woman: I know that a woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not. But, truly, these same whoreson devils do the gods great harm in their women; for in every ten that they make, the devils mar five.
Cleopatra
Well, get thee gone; farewell.
Clown
Yes, forsooth: I wish you joy o’ the worm.
Exit
Re-enter Iras with a robe, crown, & c
Cleopatra
Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have
Immortal longings in me: now no more
The juice of Egypt’s grape shall moist this lip:
Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks I hear
Antony call; I see him rouse himself
To praise my noble act; I hear him mock
The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men
To excuse their after wrath: husband, I come:
Now to that name my courage prove my title!
I am fire and air; my other elements
I give to baser life. So; have you done?
Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips.
Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell.
Kisses them. Iras falls and dies
Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall?
If thou and nature can so gently part,
The stroke of death is as a lover’s pinch,
Which hurts, and is desired. Dost thou lie still?
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell’st the world
It is not worth leave-taking.
Charmian
Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may say,
The gods themselves do weep!
Cleopatra
This proves me base:
If she first meet the curled Antony,
He’ll make demand of her, and spend that kiss
Which is my heaven to have. Come, thou mortal wretch,
To an asp, which she applies to her breast
With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate
Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool
Be angry, and dispatch. O, couldst thou speak,
That I might hear thee call great Caesar ass
Unpolicied!
Charmian
O eastern star!
Cleopatra
Peace, peace!
Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,
That sucks the nurse asleep?
Charmian
O, break! O, break!
Cleopatra
As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle,—
O Antony!— Nay, I will take thee too.
Applying another asp to her arm
What should I stay —
Dies
Charmian
In this vile world? So, fare thee well.
Now boast thee, death, in thy possession lies
A lass unparallel’d. Downy windows, close;
And golden Phoebus never be beheld
Of eyes again so royal! Your crown’s awry;
I’ll mend it, and then play.
Enter the Guard, rushing in
First Guard
Where is the queen?
Charmian
Speak softly, wake her not.
First Guard
Caesar hath sent —
Charmian
Too slow a messenger.
Applies an asp
O, come apace, dispatch! I partly feel thee.
First Guard
Approach, ho! All’s not well: Caesar’s beguiled.
Second Guard
There’s Dolabella sent from Caesar; call him.
First Guard
What work is here! Charmian, is this well done?
Charmian
It is well done, and fitting for a princess
Descended of so many royal kings.
Ah, soldier!
Dies
Re-enter Dolabella
Dolabella
How goes it here?
Second Guard
All dead.
Dolabella
Caesar, thy thoughts
Touch their effects in this: thyself art coming
To see perform’d the dreaded act which thou
So sought’st to hinder.
[Within] ‘A way there, a way for Caesar!’
Re-enter Octavius Caesar and all his train marching
Dolabella
O sir, you are too sure an augurer;
That you did fear is done.
Octavius Caesar
Bravest at the last,
She levell’d at our purposes, and, being royal,
Took her own way. The manner of their deaths?
I do not see them bleed.
Dolabella
Who was last with them?
First Guard
A simple countryman, that brought her figs:
This was his basket.
Octavius Caesar
Poison’d, then.
First Guard
O Caesar,
This Charmian lived but now; she stood and spake:
I found her trimming up the diadem
On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood
And on the sudden dropp’d.
Octavius Caesar
O noble weakness!
If they had swallow’d poison, ’twould appear
By external swelling: but she looks like sleep,
As she would catch another Anton
y
In her strong toil of grace.
Dolabella
Here, on her breast,
There is a vent of blood and something blown:
The like is on her arm.
First Guard
This is an aspic’s trail: and these fig-leaves
Have slime upon them, such as the aspic leaves
Upon the caves of Nile.
Octavius Caesar
Most probable
That so she died; for her physician tells me
She hath pursued conclusions infinite
Of easy ways to die. Take up her bed;
And bear her women from the monument:
She shall be buried by her Antony:
No grave upon the earth shall clip in it
A pair so famous. High events as these
Strike those that make them; and their story is
No less in pity than his glory which
Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall
In solemn show attend this funeral;
And then to Rome. Come, Dolabella, see
High order in this great solemnity.
Exeunt
The Tragedy of Coriolanus
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY
ACT I
SCENE I. ROME. A STREET.
SCENE II. CORIOLI. THE SENATE-HOUSE.
SCENE III. ROME. A ROOM IN MARCIUS’ HOUSE.
SCENE IV. BEFORE CORIOLI.
SCENE V. CORIOLI. A STREET.
SCENE VI. NEAR THE CAMP OF COMINIUS.
SCENE VII. THE GATES OF CORIOLI.
SCENE VIII. A FIELD OF BATTLE.
SCENE IX. THE ROMAN CAMP.
SCENE X. THE CAMP OF THE VOLSCES.
ACT II
SCENE I. ROME. A PUBLIC PLACE.
SCENE II. THE SAME. THE CAPITOL.
SCENE III. THE SAME. THE FORUM.
ACT III
SCENE I. ROME. A STREET.
SCENE II. A ROOM IN CORIOLANUS’S HOUSE.
SCENE III. THE SAME. THE FORUM.
ACT IV
SCENE I. ROME. BEFORE A GATE OF THE CITY.
SCENE II. THE SAME. A STREET NEAR THE GATE.
SCENE III. A HIGHWAY BETWEEN ROME AND ANTIUM.
SCENE IV. ANTIUM. BEFORE AUFIDIUS’S HOUSE.
SCENE V. THE SAME. A HALL IN AUFIDIUS’S HOUSE.
SCENE VI. ROME. A PUBLIC PLACE.
SCENE VII. A CAMP, AT A SMALL DISTANCE FROM ROME.
ACT V
SCENE I. ROME. A PUBLIC PLACE.
SCENE II. ENTRANCE OF THE VOLSCIAN CAMP BEFORE ROME.
SCENE III. THE TENT OF CORIOLANUS.
SCENE IV. ROME. A PUBLIC PLACE.
SCENE V. THE SAME. A STREET NEAR THE GATE.
SCENE VI. ANTIUM. A PUBLIC PLACE.
CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY
Caius Marcius, afterwards Coriolanus.
Titus Lartius and Cominius, generals against the Volscians.
Menenius Agrippa, friend to Coriolanus.
Sicinius Velutus and Junius Brutus, tribunes of the people.
Young Marcius, son to Coriolanus.
A Roman Herald.
Tullus Aufidius, general of the Volscians.
Lieutenant to Aufidius.
Conspirators with Aufidius.
A Citizen of Antium.
Volsce.
Volumnia, mother to Coriolanus.
Virgilia, wife to Coriolanus.
Valeria, friend to Virgilia.
Gentlewoman, attending on Virgilia.
Roman and Volscian Senators, Patricians, AEdiles, Lictors, Soldiers, Citizens, Messengers, Servants to Aufidius, and other Attendants.
Scene: Rome and the neighbourhood; Corioli and the neighbourhood; Antium.
ACT I
SCENE I. ROME. A STREET.
Enter a company of mutinous Citizens, with staves, clubs, and other weapons
First Citizen
Before we proceed any further, hear me speak.
All
Speak, speak.
First Citizen
You are all resolved rather to die than to famish?
All
Resolved. resolved.
First Citizen
First, you know Caius Marcius is chief enemy to the people.
All
We know’t, we know’t.
First Citizen
Let us kill him, and we’ll have corn at our own price.
Is’t a verdict?
All
No more talking on’t; let it be done: away, away!
Second Citizen
One word, good citizens.
First Citizen
We are accounted poor citizens, the patricians good. What authority surfeits on would relieve us: if they would yield us but the superfluity, while it were wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely; but they think we are too dear: the leanness that afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an inventory to particularise their abundance; our sufferance is a gain to them Let us revenge this with our pikes, ere we become rakes: for the gods know I speak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge.
Second Citizen
Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcius?
All
Against him first: he’s a very dog to the commonalty.
Second Citizen
Consider you what services he has done for his country?
First Citizen
Very well; and could be content to give him good report fort, but that he pays himself with being proud.
Second Citizen
Nay, but speak not maliciously.
First Citizen
I say unto you, what he hath done famously, he did it to that end: though soft-conscienced men can be content to say it was for his country he did it to please his mother and to be partly proud; which he is, even till the altitude of his virtue.
Second Citizen
What he cannot help in his nature, you account a vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous.
First Citizen
If I must not, I need not be barren of accusations; he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition.
Shouts within
What shouts are these? The other side o’ the city is risen: why stay we prating here? to the Capitol!
All
Come, come.
First Citizen
Soft! who comes here?
Enter Menenius Agrippa
Second Citizen
Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath always loved the people.
First Citizen
He’s one honest enough: would all the rest were so!
Menenius
What work’s, my countrymen, in hand? where go you
With bats and clubs? The matter? speak, I pray you.
First Citizen
Our business is not unknown to the senate; they have had inkling this fortnight what we intend to do, which now we’ll show ’em in deeds. They say poor suitors have strong breaths: they shall know we have strong arms too.
Menenius
Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbours,
Will you undo yourselves?
First Citizen
We cannot, sir, we are undone already.
Menenius
I tell you, friends, most charitable care
Have the patricians of you. For your wants,
Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well
Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them
Against the Roman state, whose course will on
The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs
Of more strong link asunder than can ever
Appear in your impediment. For the dearth,
The gods, not the patricians, make it, and
Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack,
You are transported by calamity
Thither where more attends you, and you slander
The helms o’ the stat
e, who care for you like fathers,
When you curse them as enemies.
First Citizen
Care for us! True, indeed! They ne’er cared for us yet: suffer us to famish, and their store-houses crammed with grain; make edicts for usury, to support usurers; repeal daily any wholesome act established against the rich, and provide more piercing statutes daily, to chain up and restrain the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and there’s all the love they bear us.
Menenius
Either you must
Confess yourselves wondrous malicious,
Or be accused of folly. I shall tell you
A pretty tale: it may be you have heard it;
But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture
To stale ’t a little more.
First Citizen
Well, I’ll hear it, sir: yet you must not think to fob off our disgrace with a tale: but, an ’t please you, deliver.
Menenius
There was a time when all the body’s members
Rebell’d against the belly, thus accused it:
That only like a gulf it did remain
I’ the midst o’ the body, idle and unactive,
Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing
Like labour with the rest, where the other instruments
Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel,
And, mutually participate, did minister
Unto the appetite and affection common
Of the whole body. The belly answer’d —
First Citizen
Well, sir, what answer made the belly?
Menenius
Sir, I shall tell you. With a kind of smile,
Which ne’er came from the lungs, but even thus —
For, look you, I may make the belly smile
As well as speak — it tauntingly replied
To the discontented members, the mutinous parts
That envied his receipt; even so most fitly
As you malign our senators for that
They are not such as you.
First Citizen
Your belly’s answer? What!
The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye,
The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier,
Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter.
With other muniments and petty helps
In this our fabric, if that they —
Menenius
What then?
’Fore me, this fellow speaks! What then? what then?
First Citizen
Should by the cormorant belly be restrain’d,
Who is the sink o’ the body,—
Menenius
Well, what then?
First Citizen
The former agents, if they did complain,
What could the belly answer?
Menenius
I will tell you
If you’ll bestow a small — of what you have little —
Complete Plays, The Page 136