Their talk at table, and their thanks at end;
And you are darken’d in this action, sir,
Even by your own.
Aufidius
I cannot help it now,
Unless, by using means, I lame the foot
Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier,
Even to my person, than I thought he would
When first I did embrace him: yet his nature
In that’s no changeling; and I must excuse
What cannot be amended.
Lieutenant
Yet I wish, sir,—
I mean for your particular,— you had not
Join’d in commission with him; but either
Had borne the action of yourself, or else
To him had left it solely.
Aufidius
I understand thee well; and be thou sure,
When he shall come to his account, he knows not
What I can urge against him. Although it seems,
And so he thinks, and is no less apparent
To the vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly.
And shows good husbandry for the Volscian state,
Fights dragon-like, and does achieve as soon
As draw his sword; yet he hath left undone
That which shall break his neck or hazard mine,
Whene’er we come to our account.
Lieutenant
Sir, I beseech you, think you he’ll carry Rome?
Aufidius
All places yield to him ere he sits down;
And the nobility of Rome are his:
The senators and patricians love him too:
The tribunes are no soldiers; and their people
Will be as rash in the repeal, as hasty
To expel him thence. I think he’ll be to Rome
As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it
By sovereignty of nature. First he was
A noble servant to them; but he could not
Carry his honours even: whether ’twas pride,
Which out of daily fortune ever taints
The happy man; whether defect of judgment,
To fail in the disposing of those chances
Which he was lord of; or whether nature,
Not to be other than one thing, not moving
From the casque to the cushion, but commanding peace
Even with the same austerity and garb
As he controll’d the war; but one of these —
As he hath spices of them all, not all,
For I dare so far free him — made him fear’d,
So hated, and so banish’d: but he has a merit,
To choke it in the utterance. So our virtues
Lie in the interpretation of the time:
And power, unto itself most commendable,
Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair
To extol what it hath done.
One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail;
Rights by rights falter, strengths by strengths do fail.
Come, let’s away. When, Caius, Rome is thine,
Thou art poor’st of all; then shortly art thou mine.
Exeunt
ACT V
SCENE I. ROME. A PUBLIC PLACE.
Enter Menenius, Cominius, Sicinius, Brutus, and others
Menenius
No, I’ll not go: you hear what he hath said
Which was sometime his general; who loved him
In a most dear particular. He call’d me father:
But what o’ that? Go, you that banish’d him;
A mile before his tent fall down, and knee
The way into his mercy: nay, if he coy’d
To hear Cominius speak, I’ll keep at home.
Cominius
He would not seem to know me.
Menenius
Do you hear?
Cominius
Yet one time he did call me by my name:
I urged our old acquaintance, and the drops
That we have bled together. Coriolanus
He would not answer to: forbad all names;
He was a kind of nothing, titleless,
Till he had forged himself a name o’ the fire
Of burning Rome.
Menenius
Why, so: you have made good work!
A pair of tribunes that have rack’d for Rome,
To make coals cheap,— a noble memory!
Cominius
I minded him how royal ’twas to pardon
When it was less expected: he replied,
It was a bare petition of a state
To one whom they had punish’d.
Menenius
Very well:
Could he say less?
Cominius
I offer’d to awaken his regard
For’s private friends: his answer to me was,
He could not stay to pick them in a pile
Of noisome musty chaff: he said ’twas folly,
For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt,
And still to nose the offence.
Menenius
For one poor grain or two!
I am one of those; his mother, wife, his child,
And this brave fellow too, we are the grains:
You are the musty chaff; and you are smelt
Above the moon: we must be burnt for you.
Sicinius
Nay, pray, be patient: if you refuse your aid
In this so never-needed help, yet do not
Upbraid’s with our distress. But, sure, if you
Would be your country’s pleader, your good tongue,
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 Marcius.
Menenius
Well, and say that Marcius
Return me, as Cominius is return’d,
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 hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me.
He was not taken well; he had not dined:
The veins unfill’d, our blood is cold, and then
We pout upon the morning, are unapt
To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff’d
These 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 gaoler to his pity. I kneel’d before him;
’Twas very faintly he said ‘Rise;’ dismiss’d 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 yield to his conditions:
So that all hope is vain.
Unless hi
s 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
SCENE II. ENTRANCE OF THE VOLSCIAN CAMP BEFORE ROME.
Two Sentinels on guard.
Enter to them, Menenius
First Senator
Stay: whence are you?
Second Senator
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 Senator
From whence?
Menenius
From Rome.
First Senator
You may not pass, you must return: our general
Will no more hear from thence.
Second Senator
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 touch’d your ears it is Menenius.
First Senator
Be it so; go back: the virtue of your name
Is not here passable.
Menenius
I tell thee, fellow,
The general is my lover: I have been
The book of his good acts, whence men have read
His name unparallel’d, haply 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 stamp’d the leasing: therefore, fellow,
I must have leave to pass.
First Senator
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 Senator
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 Senator
You are a Roman, are you?
Menenius
I am, as thy general is.
First Senator
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.
Second Senator
Come, my captain knows you not.
Menenius
I mean, thy general.
First Senator
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 and Aufidius
Coriolanus
What’s the matter?
Menenius
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 standest not i’ the 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! 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 your 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,
Take this along; I writ it for thy sake
Gives a letter
And would have rent 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 Senator
Now, sir, is your name Menenius?
Second Senator
’Tis a spell, you see, of much power: you know the way home again.
First Senator
Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your greatness back?
Second Senator
What cause, do you think, I have to swoon?
Menenius
I neither care for the world nor your general: for such things as you, I can scarce think there’s any, ye’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 Senator
A noble fellow, I warrant him.
Second Senator
The worthy fellow is our general: he’s the rock, the oak not to be wind-shaken.
Exeunt
SCENE III. THE TENT OF CORIOLANUS.
Enter Coriolanus, Aufidius, and others
Coriolanus
We will before the walls of Rome tomorrow
Set down our host. My partner in this action,
You must report to the Volscian lords, how plainly
I have borne this business.
Aufidius
Only their ends
You have respected; stopp’d 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 crack’d 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 show’d sourly to him, once more offer’d
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 f
rom the state nor private friends, hereafter
Will I lend ear to. Ha! what shout is this?
Shout within
Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow
In the same time ’tis made? I will not.
Enter in mourning habits, Virgilia, Volumnia, leading young Marcius, Valeria, and Attendants
My wife comes foremost; then the honour’d 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.
What is that curt’sy worth? or those doves’ eyes,
Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not
Of stronger earth than others. 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. Best of my flesh,
Forgive my tyranny; but do not say
For that ‘Forgive our Romans.’ 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 virgin’d it e’er since. You gods! I prate,
And the most noble mother of the world
Leave unsaluted: sink, my knee, i’ the earth;
Kneels
Of thy deep duty more impression show
Than that of common sons.
Volumnia
O, stand up blest!
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.
Kneels
Coriolanus
What is this?
Your knees to me? to your corrected son?
Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach
Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds
Strike the proud cedars ’gainst the fiery sun;
Murdering impossibility, to make
What cannot be, slight work.
Volumnia
Thou art my warrior;
I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady?
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