And gave him graceful posture.
Sicinius
On the sudden,
I warrant him consul.
Brutus
Then our office may,
During his power, go sleep.
Sicinius
He cannot temperately transport his honours
From where he should begin and end, but will
Lose those he hath won.
Brutus
In that there’s comfort.
Sicinius
Doubt not
The commoners, for whom we stand, but they
Upon their ancient malice will forget
With the least cause these his new honours, which
That he will give them make I as little question
As he is proud to do’t.
Brutus
I heard him swear,
Were he to stand for consul, never would he
Appear i’ the market-place nor on him put
The napless vesture of humility;
Nor showing, as the manner is, his wounds
To the people, beg their stinking breaths.
Sicinius
’Tis right.
Brutus
It was his word: O, he would miss it rather
Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him,
And the desire of the nobles.
Sicinius
I wish no better
Than have him hold that purpose and to put it
In execution.
Brutus
’Tis most like he will.
Sicinius
It shall be to him then as our good wills,
A sure destruction.
Brutus
So it must fall out
To him or our authorities. For an end,
We must suggest the people in what hatred
He still hath held them; that to’s power he would
Have made them mules, silenced their pleaders and
Dispropertied their freedoms, holding them,
In human action and capacity,
Of no more soul nor fitness for the world
Than camels in the war, who have their provand
Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows
For sinking under them.
Sicinius
This, as you say, suggested
At some time when his soaring insolence
Shall touch the people — which time shall not want,
If he be put upon ’t; and that’s as easy
As to set dogs on sheep — will be his fire
To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze
Shall darken him for ever.
Enter a Messenger
Brutus
What’s the matter?
Messenger
You are sent for to the Capitol. ’Tis thought
That Marcius shall be consul:
I have seen the dumb men throng to see him and
The blind to bear him speak: matrons flung gloves,
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers,
Upon him as he pass’d: the nobles bended,
As to Jove’s statue, and the commons made
A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts:
I never saw the like.
Brutus
Let’s to the Capitol;
And carry with us ears and eyes for the time,
But hearts for the event.
Sicinius
Have with you.
Exeunt
SCENE II. THE SAME. THE CAPITOL.
Enter two Officers, to lay cushions
First Officer
Come, come, they are almost here. How many stand for consulships?
Second Officer
Three, they say: but ’tis thought of every one
Coriolanus will carry it.
First Officer
That’s a brave fellow; but he’s vengeance proud, and loves not the common people.
Second Officer
Faith, there had 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 Officer
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 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.
Second Officer
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 an 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 Officer
No more of him; he is a worthy man: make way, they are coming.
A sennet. Enter, with actors before them, Cominius the consul, Menenius, Coriolanus, Senators, Sicinius and Brutus. The Senators take their places; the Tribunes take their Places by themselves. Coriolanus stands
Menenius
Having determined 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 met here both to thank and to remember
With honours like himself.
First Senator
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.
Sicinius
We are convented
Upon a pleasing treaty, and have hearts
Inclinable to honour and advance
The theme of our assembly.
Brutus
Which the rather
We shall be blest to do, if he remember
A kinder value of the people than
He hath hereto prized them at.
Menenius
That’s off, that’s off;
I would you rather had been silent. Please you
To hear Cominius speak?
Brutus
Most willingly;
But yet my caution was more pertinent
Than the rebuke you give it.
Menenius
He loves your people
But tie him not to be their bedfellow.
Worthy Cominius, speak.
Coriolanus offers to go away
Nay, keep your place.
First Senator
Sit, Coriolanus; never shame to hear
What you have nobly done.
Coriolanus
Your horror’s pardon:
I had rather have my wounds to heal again
Than hear say how I got them.
Brutus
Sir, I hope
My words disbench’d you not.
Coriolanus
No, sir: yet oft,
When blows have made me stay, I fled from words.
You soothed not, therefore hurt not: but your people,
I love them as they weigh.
Menenius
Pray now, sit down.
Coriolanus
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
Menenius
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.
Cominius
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 counterpoised. 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: be 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 proved 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 timed 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 reinforcement 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.
Menenius
Worthy man!
First Senator
He cannot but with measure fit the honours
Which we devise him.
Cominius
Our spoils he kick’d at,
And look’d upon things precious as they were
The common muck of 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.
Menenius
He’s right noble:
Let him be call’d for.
First Senator
Call Coriolanus.
Officer
He doth appear.
Re-enter Coriolanus
Menenius
The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleased
To make thee consul.
Coriolanus
I do owe them still
My life and services.
Menenius
It then remains
That you do speak to the people.
Coriolanus
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.
Sicinius
Sir, the people
Must have their voices; neither will they bate
One jot of ceremony.
Menenius
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.
Coriolanus
It is apart
That I shall blush in acting, and might well
Be taken from the people.
Brutus
Mark you that?
Coriolanus
To brag unto them, thus I did, and thus;
Show them the unaching scars which I should hide,
As if I had received them for the hire
Of their breath only!
Menenius
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.
Senators
To Coriolanus come all joy and honour!
Flourish of cornets. Exeunt all but Sicinius and Brutus
Brutus
You see how he intends to use the people.
Sicinius
May they perceive’s intent! He will require them,
As if he did contemn what he requested
Should be in them to give.
Brutus
Come, we’ll inform them
Of our proceedings here: on the marketplace,
I know, they do attend us.
Exeunt
SCENE III. THE SAME. THE FORUM.
Enter seven or eight Citizens
First Citizen
Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him.
Second Citizen
We may, sir, if we will.
Third Citizen
We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a power that we have no power to do; for if he show us his wounds and tell us his deeds, we are to put our tongues into those wounds and speak for them; so, if he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is monstrous, and for the multitude to be ingrateful, were to make a monster of the multitude: of the which we being members, should bring ourselves to be monstrous members.
First Citizen
And to make us no better thought of, a little help will serve; for once we stood up about the corn, he himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude.
Third Citizen
We have been called so of many; not that our heads are some brown, some black, some auburn, some bald, but that our wits are so diversely coloured: and truly I think if all our wits were to issue out of one skull, they would fly east, west, north, south, and their consent of one direct way should be at once to all the points o’ the compass.
Second Citizen
Think you so? Which way do you judge my wit would fly?
Third Citizen
Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another man’s will;’tis strongly wedged up in a block-head, but if it were at liberty, ’twould, sure, southward.
Second Citizen
Why that way?
Third Citizen
To lose itself in a fog, where being three parts melted away with rotten dews, the fourth would return for conscience sake, to help to get thee a wife.
Second Citizen
You are never without your tricks: you may, you may.
Third Citizen
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Are you all resolved to give your voices? But that’s no matter, the greater part carries it. I say, if he would incline to the people, there was never a worthier man.
Enter Coriolanus in a gown of humility, with Menenius
Here he comes, and in the gown of humility: mark his behavior. We are not to stay all together, but to come by him where he stands, by ones, by twos, and by threes. He’s to make his requests by particulars; wherein every one of us has a single honour, in giving him our own voices with our own tongues: therefore follow me, and I direct you how you shall go by him.
All
Content, content.
Exeunt Citizens
Menenius
O sir, you are not right: have you not known
The worthiest men have done’t?
Coriolanus
What must I say?
‘I Pray, sir’— Plague upon’t! I cannot bring
My tongue to such a pace:—‘Look, sir, my wounds!
I got them in my country’s service, when
Some certain of your brethren roar’d and ran
From the noise of our own drums.’
Menenius
O me, the gods!
You must not speak of that: you must desire them
To think upon you.
Coriolanus
Think upon me! hang ’em!
I would they would forget me, like the virtues
Which our divines lose by ’em.
Menenius
You’ll mar all:
I’ll leave you: pray you, speak to ’em, I pray you,
In wholesome manner.
Exit
Coriolanus
Bid them wash their faces
And keep their teeth clean.
Re-enter two of the Citizens
So, here comes a brace.
Re-enter a third Citizen
You know the cause, air, of my standing here.
Third Citizen
We do, sir; tell us what hath brought you to’t.
Coriolanus
Mine own desert.
Second Citizen
Your own desert!
Coriolanus
Ay, but not mine own desire.
Third Citizen
How not your own desire?
Coriolanus
No, sir,’twas never my desire yet to trouble the poor with begging.
Third Citizen
You must think, if we give you any thing, we hope to gain by you.
Coriolanus
Well then, I pray, your price o’ the consulship?
First Citizen
The price is to ask it kindly.
Coriolanus
Kindly! Sir, I pray, let me ha’t: I have wounds to show you, which shall be yours in private. Your good voice, sir; what say you?
Second Citizen
You shall ha’ it, worthy sir.
Coriolanus
A match, sir. There’s in all two worthy voices begged. I have your alms: adieu.
Third Citizen
But this is something odd.
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