Vir. O, good madam, there can be none yet. Val. Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from him last night. Vir. Indeed, madam? Val. In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it. Thus it is:-The Volces have an army forth; against whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of our Roman power: your lord, and Titus Lartius, are set down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief wars. This is true, on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us. Vir. Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every thing hereafter. Vol. Let her alone, lady; as she is now, she will but disease our better mirth. Val. In troth, I think, she would:-Fare you well then.-Come, good sweet lady.-Pr'ythee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o'door and go along with us. Vir. No: at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish you much mirth. Val. Well, then farewell. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-Before Corioli. Enter, with drum and colours, Marcius, Titus Lartíus, Officers and Soldiers. To them a Messenger. Mar. Yonder comes news:-A wager, they have met. Lart. 'Tis done. Agreed. For half a hundred years.-Summon the town. They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, Alarum, and exeunt Romans and Volces, fighting. You shames of Rome! you herd of-Boils and Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe, The Volces and Romans reenter, and the fight is renewed. The Volces retire into Corioli, and Marcius follows them to the gates. So, now the gates are ope:-Now prove good 'Tis for the followers fortune widens them, Nor I. See, they [Alarum continues. To the pot, I warrant him. Slain, sir, doubtless. Lart. Were feverous and did tremble. Re-enter Marcius bleeding, assaulted by the enemy. SCENE V.-Within the town. A street. En- 1 Rom. This I will carry to Rome. 2 Rom. And I this. 3 Rom. A murrain on't! I took this for silver. [Alarum continues still afar off. (4) When it is bent. And hark, what noise the general makes!-To There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius, Lart. Worthy sir, thou bleed'st; Thy exercise hath been too violent for Sir, praise me not: How is't with Titus Lartius? Flower of warriors, Mar. As with a man busied about decrees: Condemning some to death, and some to exile; Ransoming him, or pitying, threat'ning the other; Holding Corioli in the name of Rome, Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, My work hath yet not warm'd me: Fare you well. To let him slip at will. Than dangerous to me: To Aufidius thus Mar. Com. Where is that slave, Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? Where is he? Call him hither. Mar. He did inform the truth: But for our gentlemen, Com. But how prevail'd you? Mar. Will the time serve to tell? I do not think Where is the enemy? Are you lords of the field? Marcius, ter Cominius and forces, retreating. Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, Mar How lies their battle? Know you on which They have plac'd their men of trust? By the blood we have shed together, by the vows Com. Though I could wish Mar. Those are they Wave thus, [Waving his hand.] to express his dis- And follow Marcius. [They all shout, and wave their swords; take him up in their arms, and cast up their caps. O me, alone! Make you a sword of me? If these shows be not outward, which of you But is four Volces? None of you but is (5) Present time. Able to bear against the great Aufidius Com. Lart. So, let the ports' be guarded: keep your As I have set them down. If I do send, despatch Lieu. ter Marcius and Aufidius. Mar. I'll fight with none but thee; for I do hate thee Not Afric owns a serpent, I abhor Halloo me like a hare. Mar. If I fly, Marcius, [They fight, and certain Volces come to the The treasure, in this field achiev'd, and city, I thank you, general; [A long flourish. They all cry, Marcius! Mar- Mar. May these same instruments, which you profane, Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall I'the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be Made all of false-fac'd soothing: When steel grows Soft as the parasite's silk, let him be made An overture for the wars! No more, I say; For that I have not wash'd my nose that bled, [Exeunt fighting, driven in by Marcius. Or foil'd some debile wretch,-which, without note, SCENE IX.-The Roman camp. Alarum. In acclamations hyperbolical; Here's many else have done,-you shout me forth retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter at one side, Cominius and Romans; at the other side, Marcius, with his arm in a scarf, and other Romans. Com. If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's Thou'lt not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it, That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours, (1) Gates. (2) Companies of a hundred men. In praises sauc'd with lies. Com. Too modest are you; More cruel to your good report, than grateful To us that give you truly: by your patience, If 'gainst yourself you be incens'd, we'll put you (Like one that means his proper1o harm,) in manacles, Then reason safely with you.-Therefore, be it As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius (6) Town into grateful trepidation. With all the applause and clamour of the host, Caius Marcius Coriolanus. Bear the addition nobly ever! Wash my fierce hand in his heart. Go you to the city: Learn, how 'tis held; and what they are, that must Will not you go? [Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums. Be hostages for Rome. All. Caius Marcius Coriolanus! Cor. I will go wash; And when my face is fair, you shall perceive To the fairness of my power. 2 1 Sol. Auf. I am attended' at the cypress grove: :-(Tis south the city mills,) bring me word thither The best, with whom we may articulate, Take it 'tis yours.-What is't? But then Aufidius was within my view, And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you Com. O, well begg'd! Were he the butcher of my son, he should By Jupiter, forgot : Com. Go we to our tent: The blood upon your visage dries: 'tis time It should be look'd to: come. [Exeunt. SCENE X.-The camp of the Volces. A flourish. Cornets. Enter Tullus Aufidius, bloody, with two or three Soldiers. Auf. The town is ta'en! 1 Sol. 'Twill be delivered back on good condition. Auf. Condition?— I would, I were a Roman; for I cannot, 1 Sol. With only suffering stain by him; for him (1) Add more by doing his best. (2) Chief men. (4) Whereas. VOL. II. (3) Enter into articles. (5) Poke, push. I shall, sir. [Exeunt, Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius. Sie. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. Men. Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius. Bru. He's a lamb, indeed, that bacs like a bear. Men. He's a bear, indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two are old men; tell me one thing that I shall ask you. Both Trib. Well, sir. Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor, that you two have not in abundance? Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all. Sic. Especially, in pride. Bru. And topping all others in boasting. how you are censured here in the city, I mean of Men. This is strange now: Do you two know us o'the right hand file? Do you? Both Trib. Why, how are we censured? Men. Because you talk of pride now,-Will you not be angry? Both Trib. Well, well, sir, well. Men. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience: give your disposition the reins, and be angry at your pleasure; at the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you, in being so. You blame Marcius for being proud? Bru. We do it not alone, sir. Men. I know, you can do very little alone; for your helps are many; or else your actions would grow wondrous single: your abilities are too infant-like, for doing much alone. You talk of pride: O, that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O that you could! Bru. What then, sir? Men. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates (alias, fools,) as any in Rome. Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough too. Men. I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tyber' in't'; said to be something imperfect, in favouring the first complaint: hasty, and tinder-like, upon too trivial motion; one that converses more with the buttock of the night, than (6) My brother posted to protect him. 2 Q Vol. O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't. with the forehead of the morning. What I think, tion in Galen is but empiricutic, and to this preI utter; and spend my malice in my breath: Meet-servative, of no better report than a horse-drench ing two such weals'-men as you are (I cannot call Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home you Lycurguses) if the drink you gave me, touch wounded. my palate adversely, I make a crooked face at it. Vir. O, no, no, no. I cannot say, your worships have delivered the matter well, when I find the ass in compound with the major part of your syllables: and though I'a victory in his pocket?-The wounds become must be content to bear with those that say you are reverend grave men; yet they lie deadly, that tell, you have good faces. If you see this in the map of my microcosm,2 follows it, that I am known well enough too? What harm can your bisson' conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too? him. Vol. On's brows, Menenius: he comes the third time home with the oaken garland. Men. Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly? Vol. Titus Lartius writes,-they fought together, but Aufidius got off. Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that: an he had staid by him, I would not have been so fidiused for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold that's in them. Is the senate possessed' of this? Bru. Come, sir, come, we know you well enough. Men. You know neither me, yourselves, nor any thing. You are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs; you wear out a good wholesome forenoon, in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and a Vol. Good ladies, let's go :-yes, yes, yes: the fosset-seller; and then rejourn the controversy of senate has letters from the general, wherein he gives three-pence to a second day of audience.-When my son the whole name of the war: he hath in you are hearing a matter between party and party, this action outdone his former deeds doubly. if you chance to be pinched with the colic, you make faces like mummers; set up the bloody flag against all patience; and, in roaring for a chamberpot, dismiss the controversy bleeding, the more entangled by your hearing; all the peace you make, in their cause, is calling both the parties knaves: You are a pair of strange ones. Bru. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table, than a necessary bencher in the Capitol. Men. Our very priests must become mockers, if they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging of your beards; and your beards deserve not so honourable a grave, as to stuff a botcher's cushion, or to be entombed in an ass's pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors, since Deucalion; though, peradventure, some of the best of them were hereditary hangmen. Good e'en to your worships; more of your conversation would infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians: I will be bold to take my leave of you. [Bru. and Sic. retire to the back of the scene. Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria, &c. How now, my fair as noble ladies, (and the moon, were she earthly, no nobler,) whither do you follow your eves so fast? Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for the love of Juno, let's go. Men. Ha! Marcius coming home! Val. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him. Men. Wondrous? ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing. Vir. The gods grant them true! Vol. True? pow, wow. Men. True? I'll be sworn they are true :Where is he wounded?-God save your good worships! [To the Tribunes, who come forward.] Marcius is coming home; he has more cause to be proud.-Where is he wounded? Vol. I'the shoulder, and i'the left arm: There will be large cicatrices to show the people, when he shall stand for his place. He received in the repulse of Tarquin, seven hurts i'the body. Men. One in the neck, and two in the thigh,there's nine that I know. Vol. He had, before this last expedition, twentyfive wounds upon him. Men. Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave: [A shout, and flourish.] Hark! the trumpets. Vol. These are the ushers of Marcius: before him He carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears; Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie; Which, being advanc'd, declines; and then men die. A senne!. Trumpets sound. Enter Cominius and Titus Lartius; between them, Coriolanus, crowned with an caken garland; with Captains, Soldiers, and a Herald. Her. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most pros- Within Corioli's gates: where he hath won, perous approbation. With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these Men. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee:-In honour follows, Coriolanus: Hoo! Marcius coming home? Two Ladies. Nay, 'tis true. Vol. Look, here's a letter from him; the state hath another, his wife another; and, I think, there's one at home for you. Men. I will make my very house reel to-night :A letter for me? Vir. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw it. Men. A letter for me? It gives me an estate of seven years' health; in which time I will make a lip at the physician: the most sovereign prescrip Welcome to Rome, renown'd Coriolanus! [Flourish. All. Welcome to Rome, renown'd Coriolanus! Cor. No more of this, it does offend my heart; Pray now, no more. Com. Look, sir, your mother, You have, I know, petition'd all the gods O! [Kneels. Vol. |