Chapter 127

Lar. Oh Noble Fellow! Who sensibly out-dares his sencelesse Sword, And when it bowes, stand'st vp: Thou art left Martius, A Carbuncle intire: as big as thou art Weare not so rich a Iewell. Thou was't a Souldier Euen to Calues wish, not fierce and terrible Onely in strokes, but with thy grim lookes, and The Thunder-like percussion of thy sounds Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the World Were Feauorous, and did tremble. Enter Martius bleeding, assaulted by the Enemy.

1.Sol. Looke Sir

Lar. O 'tis Martius. Let's fetch him off, or make remaine alike.

They fight, and all enter the City.

Enter certaine Romanes with spoiles.

1.Rom. This will I carry to Rome

2.Rom. And I this

3.Rom. A Murrain on't, I tooke this for Siluer.

Exeunt.

Alarum continues still a-farre off.

Enter Martius, and Titus with a Trumpet.

Mar. See heere these mouers, that do prize their hours At a crack'd Drachme: Cushions, Leaden Spoones, Irons of a Doit, Dublets that Hangmen would Bury with those that wore them. These base slaues, Ere yet the fight be done, packe vp, downe with them. And harke, what noyse the Generall makes: To him There is the man of my soules hate, Auffidious, Piercing our Romanes: Then Valiant Titus take Conuenient Numbers to make good the City, Whil'st I with those that haue the spirit, wil haste To helpe Cominius

Lar. Worthy Sir, thou bleed'st, Thy exercise hath bin too violent, For a second course of Fight

Mar. Sir, praise me not: My worke hath yet not warm'd me. Fare you well: The blood I drop, is rather Physicall Then dangerous to me: To Auffidious thus, I will appear and fight

Lar. Now the faire Goddesse Fortune, Fall deepe in loue with thee, and her great charmes Misguide thy Opposers swords, Bold Gentleman: Prosperity be thy Page

Mar. Thy Friend no lesse, Then those she placeth highest: So farewell

Lar. Thou worthiest Martius, Go sound thy Trumpet in the Market place, Call thither all the Officers a'th' Towne, Where they shall know our minde. Away.

Exeunt.

Enter Cominius as it were in retire, with soldiers.

Com. Breath you my friends, wel fought, we are come off, Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, Nor Cowardly in retyre: Beleeue me Sirs, We shall be charg'd againe. Whiles we haue strooke By Interims and conueying gusts, we haue heard The Charges of our Friends. The Roman Gods, Leade their successes, as we wish our owne, That both our powers, with smiling Fronts encountring, May giue you thankfull Sacrifice. Thy Newes? Enter a Messenger.

Mess. The Cittizens of Corioles haue yssued, And giuen to Lartius and to Martius Battaile: I saw our party to their Trenches driuen, And then I came away

Com. Though thou speakest truth, Me thinkes thou speak'st not well. How long is't since? Mes. Aboue an houre, my Lord

Com. 'Tis not a mile: briefely we heard their drummes. How could'st thou in a mile confound an houre, And bring thy Newes so late? Mes. Spies of the Volces Held me in chace, that I was forc'd to wheele Three or foure miles about, else had I sir Halfe an houre since brought my report. Enter Martius.

Com. Whose yonder, That doe's appeare as he were Flead? O Gods, He has the stampe of Martius, and I haue Before time seene him thus

Mar. Come I too late? Com. The Shepherd knowes not Thunder fro[m] a Taber, More then I know the sound of Martius Tongue From euery meaner man

Martius. Come I too late? Com. I, if you come not in the blood of others, But mantled in your owne

Mart. Oh! let me clip ye In Armes as sound, as when I woo'd in heart; As merry, as when our Nuptiall day was done, And Tapers burnt to Bedward

Com. Flower of Warriors, how is't with Titus Lartius? Mar. As with a man busied about Decrees: Condemning some to death, and some to exile, Ransoming him, or pittying, threatning th' other; Holding Corioles in the name of Rome, Euen like a fawning Grey-hound in the Leash, To let him slip at will

Com. Where is that Slaue Which told me they had beate you to your Trenches? Where is he? Call him hither

Mar. Let him alone, He did informe the truth: but for our Gentlemen, The common file, (a plague-Tribunes for them) The Mouse ne're shunn'd the Cat, as they did budge From Rascals worse then they

Com. But how preuail'd you? Mar. Will the time serue to tell, I do not thinke: Where is the enemy? Are you Lords a'th Field? If not, why cease you till you are so? Com. Martius, we haue at disaduantage fought, And did retyre to win our purpose

Mar. How lies their Battell? Know you on w side They haue plac'd their men of trust? Com. As I guesse Martius, Their Bands i'th Vaward are the Antients Of their best trust: O're them Auffidious, Their very heart of Hope

Mar. I do beseech you, By all the Battailes wherein we haue fought, By th' Blood we haue shed together, By th' Vowes we haue made To endure Friends, that you directly set me Against Affidious, and his Antiats, And that you not delay the present (but Filling the aire with Swords aduanc'd) and Darts, We proue this very houre

Com. Though I could wish, You were conducted to a gentle Bath, And Balmes applyed to you, yet dare I neuer Deny your asking, take your choice of those That best can ayde your action

Mar. Those are they That most are willing; if any such be heere, (As it were sinne to doubt) that loue this painting Wherein you see me smear'd, if any feare Lessen his person, then an ill report: If any thinke, braue death out-weighes bad life, And that his Countries deerer then himselfe, Let him alone: Or so many so minded, Waue thus to expresse his disposition, And follow Martius.

They all shout and waue their swords, take him vp in their Armes, and cast vp their Caps.

Oh me alone, make you a sword of me: If these shewes be not outward, which of you But is foure Volces? None of you, but is Able to beare against the great Auffidious A Shield, as hard as his. A certaine number (Though thankes to all) must I select from all: The rest shall beare the businesse in some other fight (As cause will be obey'd:) please you to March, And foure shall quickly draw out my Command, Which men are best inclin'd

Com. March on my Fellowes: Make good this ostentation, and you shall Diuide in all, with vs.

Exeunt.

Titus Lartius, hauing set a guard vpon Carioles, going with Drum and Trumpet toward Cominius, and Caius Martius, Enters with a Lieutenant, other Souldiours, and a Scout.

Lar. So, let the Ports be guarded; keepe your Duties As I haue set them downe. If I do send, dispatch Those Centuries to our ayd, the rest will serue For a short holding, if we loose the Field, We cannot keepe the Towne

Lieu. Feare not our care Sir

Lart. Hence; and shut your gates vpon's: Our Guider come, to th' Roman Campe conduct vs.

Exit

Alarum, as in Battaile.

Enter Martius and Auffidius at seueral doores.

Mar. Ile fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee Worse then a Promise-breaker

Auffid. We hate alike: Not Affricke ownes a Serpent I abhorre More then thy Fame and Enuy: Fix thy foot

Mar. Let the first Budger dye the others Slaue, And the Gods doome him after

Auf. If I flye Martius, hollow me like a Hare

Mar. Within these three houres Tullus Alone I fought in your Corioles walles, And made what worke I pleas'd: 'Tis not my blood, Wherein thou seest me maskt, for thy Reuenge Wrench vp thy power to th' highest

Auf. Wer't thou the Hector, That was the whip of your bragg'd Progeny, Thou should'st not scape me heere.

Heere they fight, and certaine Volces come in the ayde of Auffi. Martius fights til they be driuen in breathles.

Officious and not valiant, you haue sham'd me In your condemned Seconds.

Flourish. Alarum. A Retreat is sounded. Enter at one Doore Cominius, with the Romanes: At another Doore Martius, with his Arme in a Scarfe.

Com. If I should tell thee o're this thy dayes Worke, Thou't not beleeue thy deeds: but Ile report it, Where Senators shall mingle teares with smiles, Where great Patricians shall attend, and shrug, I'th' end admire: where Ladies shall be frighted, And gladly quak'd, heare more: where the dull Tribunes, That with the fustie Plebeans, hate thine Honors, Shall say against their hearts, We thanke the Gods Our Rome hath such a Souldier. Yet cam'st thou to a Morsell of this Feast, Hauing fully din'd before. Enter Titus with his Power, from the Pursuit.

Titus Lartius. Oh Generall: Here is the Steed, wee the Caparison: Hadst thou beheld- Martius. Pray now, no more: My Mother, who ha's a Charter to extoll her Bloud, When she do's prayse me, grieues me: I haue done as you haue done, that's what I can, Induc'd as you haue beene, that's for my Countrey: He that ha's but effected his good will, Hath ouerta'ne mine Act

Com. You shall not be the Graue of your deseruing, Rome must know the value of her owne: 'Twere a Concealement worse then a Theft, No lesse then a Traducement, To hide your doings, and to silence that, Which to the spire, and top of prayses vouch'd, Would seeme but modest: therefore I beseech you, In signe of what you are, not to reward What you haue done, before our Armie heare me

Martius. I haue some Wounds vpon me, and they smart To heare themselues remembred

Com. Should they not: Well might they fester 'gainst Ingratitude, And tent themselues with death: of all the Horses, Whereof we haue ta'ne good, and good store of all, The Treasure in this field atchieued, and Citie, We render you the Tenth, to be ta'ne forth, Before the common distribution, At your onely choyse

Martius. I thanke you Generall: But cannot make my heart consent to take A Bribe, to pay my Sword: I doe refuse it, And stand vpon my common part with those, That haue beheld the doing.

A long flourish. They all cry, Martius, Martius, cast vp their Caps and Launces: Cominius and Lartius stand bare.

Mar. May these same Instruments, which you prophane, Neuer sound more: when Drums and Trumpets shall I'th' field proue flatterers, let Courts and Cities be Made all of false-fac'd soothing: When Steele growes soft, as the Parasites Silke, Let him be made an Ouerture for th' Warres: No more I say, for that I haue not wash'd My Nose that bled, or foyl'd some debile Wretch, Which without note, here's many else haue done, You shoot me forth in acclamations hyperbolicall, As if I lou'd my little should be dieted In prayses, sawc'st with Lyes

Com. Too modest are you: More cruell to your good report, then gratefull To vs, that giue you truly: by your patience, If 'gainst your selfe you be incens'd, wee'le put you (Like one that meanes his proper harme) in Manacles, Then reason safely with you: Therefore be it knowne, As to vs, to all the World, That Caius Martius Weares this Warres Garland: in token of the which, My Noble Steed, knowne to the Campe, I giue him, With all his trim belonging; and from this time, For what he did before Corioles, call him, With all th' applause and Clamor of the Hoast, Marcus Caius Coriolanus. Beare th' addition Nobly euer? Flourish. Trumpets sound, and Drums.

Omnes. Marcus Caius Coriolanus

Martius. I will goe wash: And when my Face is faire, you shall perceiue Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thanke you, I meane to stride your Steed, and at all times To vnder-crest your good Addition, To th' fairenesse of my power

Com. So, to our Tent: Where ere we doe repose vs, we will write To Rome of our successe: you Titus Lartius Must to Corioles backe, send vs to Rome The best, with whom we may articulate, For their owne good, and ours

Lartius. I shall, my Lord

Martius. The Gods begin to mocke me: I that now refus'd most Princely gifts, Am bound to begge of my Lord Generall

Com. Tak't, 'tis yours: what is't? Martius. I sometime lay here in Corioles, At a poore mans house: he vs'd me kindly, He cry'd to me: I saw him Prisoner: But then Auffidius was within my view, And Wrath o're-whelm'd my pittie: I request you To giue my poore Host freedome

Com. Oh well begg'd: Were he the Butcher of my Sonne, he should Be free, as is the Winde: deliuer him, Titus

Lartius. Martius, his Name

Martius. By Iupiter forgot: I am wearie, yea, my memorie is tyr'd: Haue we no Wine here? Com. Goe we to our Tent: The bloud vpon your Visage dryes, 'tis time It should be lookt too: come.

Exeunt.

A flourish. Cornets. Enter Tullus Auffidius bloudie, with two or three Souldiors.

Auffi. The Towne is ta'ne

Sould. 'Twill be deliuer'd backe on good Condition

Auffid. Condition? I would I were a Roman, for I cannot, Being a Volce, be that I am. Condition? What good Condition can a Treatie finde I'th' part that is at mercy? fiue times, Martius, I haue fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me: And would'st doe so, I thinke, should we encounter As often as we eate. By th' Elements, If ere againe I meet him beard to beard, He's mine, or I am his: Mine Emulation Hath not that Honor in't it had: For where I thought to crush him in an equall Force, True Sword to Sword: Ile potche at him some way, Or Wrath, or Craft may get him

Sol. He's the diuell

Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle: my valors poison'd, With onely suff'ring staine by him: for him Shall flye out of it selfe, nor sleepe, nor sanctuary, Being naked, sicke; nor Phane, nor Capitoll, The Prayers of Priests, nor times of Sacrifice: Embarquements all of Fury, shall lift vp Their rotten Priuiledge, and Custome 'gainst My hate to Martius. Where I finde him, were it At home, vpon my Brothers Guard, euen there Against the hospitable Canon, would I Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to th' Citie, Learne how 'tis held, and what they are that must Be Hostages for Rome

Soul. Will not you go? Auf. I am attended at the Cyprus groue. I pray you ('Tis South the City Mils) bring me word thither How the world goes: that to the pace of it I may spurre on my iourney

Soul. I shall sir.

Actus Secundus.

Enter Menenius with the two Tribunes of the people, Sicinius & Brutus.

Men. The Agurer tels me, wee shall haue Newes to night

Bru. Good or bad? Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they loue not Martius

Sicin. Nature teaches Beasts to know their Friends

Men. Pray you, who does the Wolfe loue? Sicin. The Lambe

Men. I, to deuour him, as the hungry Plebeians would the Noble Martius

Bru. He's a Lambe indeed, that baes like a Beare

Men. Hee's a Beare indeede, that liues like a Lambe. You two are old men, tell me one thing that I shall aske you

Both. Well sir

Men. In what enormity is Martius poore in, that you two haue not in abundance? Bru. He's poore in no one fault, but stor'd withall

Sicin. Especially in Pride

Bru. And topping all others in boasting

Men. This is strange now: Do you two know, how you are censured heere in the City, I mean of vs a'th' right hand File, do you? Both. Why? how are we censur'd? Men. Because you talke of Pride now, will you not be angry

Both. Well, well sir, well

Men. Why 'tis no great matter: for a very little theefe of Occasion, will rob you of a great deale of Patience: Giue your dispositions the reines, and bee angry at your pleasures (at the least) if you take it as a pleasure to you, in being so: you blame Martius for being proud

Brut. We do it not alone, sir

Men. I know you can doe very little alone, for your helpes are many, or else your actions would growe wondrous single: your abilities are to Infant-like, for dooing much alone. You talke of Pride: Oh, that you could turn your eyes toward the Napes of your neckes, and make but an Interiour suruey of your good selues. Oh that you could

Both. What then sir? Men. Why then you should discouer a brace of vnmeriting, proud, violent, testie Magistrates (alias Fooles) as any in Rome

Sicin. Menenius, you are knowne well enough too

Men. I am knowne to be a humorous Patritian, and one that loues a cup of hot Wine, with not a drop of alaying Tiber in't: Said, to be something imperfect in fauouring the first complaint, hasty and Tinder-like vppon, to triuiall motion: One, that conuerses more with the Buttocke of the night, then with the forhead of the morning. What I think, I vtter, and spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two such Weales men as you are (I cannot call you Licurgusses,) if the drinke you giue me, touch my Palat aduersly, I make a crooked face at it, I can say, your Worshippes haue deliuer'd the matter well, when I finde the Asse in compound, with the Maior part of your syllables. And though I must be content to beare with those, that say you are reuerend graue men, yet they lye deadly, that tell you haue good faces, if you see this in the Map of my Microcosme, followes it that I am knowne well enough too? What harme can your beesome Conspectuities gleane out of this Charracter, if I be knowne well enough too

Bru. Come sir come, we know you well enough

Menen. You know neither mee, your selues, nor any thing: you are ambitious, for poore knaues cappes and legges: you weare out a good wholesome Forenoone, in hearing a cause betweene an Orendge wife, and a Forfetseller, and then reiourne the Controuersie of three-pence to a second day of Audience. When you are hearing a matter betweene party and party, if you chaunce to bee pinch'd with the Collike, you make faces like Mummers, set vp the bloodie Flagge against all Patience, and in roaring for a Chamber-pot, dismisse the Controuersie bleeding, the more intangled by your hearing: All the peace you make in their Cause, is calling both the parties Knaues. You are a payre of strange ones

Bru. Come, come, you are well vnderstood to bee a perfecter gyber for the Table, then a necessary Bencher in the Capitoll

Men. Our very Priests must become Mockers, if they shall encounter such ridiculous Subiects as you are, when you speake best vnto the purpose. It is not woorth the wagging of your Beards, and your Beards deserue not so honourable a graue, as to stuffe a Botchers Cushion, or to be intomb'd in an Asses Packe-saddle; yet you must bee saying, Martius is proud: who in a cheape estimation, is worth all your predecessors, since Deucalion, though peraduenture some of the best of 'em were hereditarie hangmen. Godden to your Worships, more of your conuersation would infect my Braine, being the Heardsmen of the Beastly Plebeans. I will be bold to take my leaue of you.

Bru. and Scic. Aside.

Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria.

How now (my as faire as Noble) Ladyes, and the Moone were shee Earthly, no Nobler; whither doe you follow your Eyes so fast? Volum. Honorable Menenius, my Boy Martius approches: for the loue of Iuno let's goe

Menen. Ha? Martius comming home? Volum. I, worthy Menenius, and with most prosperous approbation

Menen. Take my Cappe Iupiter, and I thanke thee: hoo, Martius comming home? 2.Ladies. Nay, 'tis true

Volum. Looke, here's a Letter from him, the State hath another, his Wife another, and (I thinke) there's one at home for you

Menen. I will make my very house reele to night: A Letter for me? Virgil. Yes certaine, there's a Letter for you, I saw't

Menen. A Letter for me? it giues me an Estate of seuen yeeres health; in which time, I will make a Lippe at the Physician: The most soueraigne Prescription in Galen, is but Emperickqutique; and to this Preseruatiue, of no better report then a Horse-drench. Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded? Virgil. Oh no, no, no

Volum. Oh, he is wounded, I thanke the Gods for't

Menen. So doe I too, if it be not too much: brings a Victorie in his Pocket? the wounds become him

Volum. On's Browes: Menenius, hee comes the third time home with the Oaken Garland

Menen. Ha's he disciplin'd Auffidius soundly? Volum. Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but Auffidius got off

Menen. And 'twas time for him too, Ile warrant him that: and he had stay'd by him, I would not haue been so fiddious'd, for all the Chests in Carioles, and the Gold that's in them. Is the Senate possest of this? Volum. Good Ladies let's goe. Yes, yes, yes: The Senate ha's Letters from the Generall, wherein hee giues my Sonne the whole Name of the Warre: he hath in this action out-done his former deeds doubly

Valer. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him

Menen. Wondrous: I, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing

Virgil. The Gods graunt them true

Volum. True? pow waw

Mene. True? Ile be sworne they are true: where is hee wounded, God saue your good Worships? Martius is comming home: hee ha's more cause to be prowd: where is he wounded? Volum. Ith' Shoulder, and ith' left Arme: there will be large Cicatrices to shew the People, when hee shall stand for his place: he receiued in the repulse of Tarquin seuen hurts ith' Body

Mene. One ith' Neck, and two ith' Thigh, there's nine that I know

Volum. Hee had, before this last Expedition, twentie fiue Wounds vpon him

Mene. Now it's twentie seuen; euery gash was an Enemies Graue. Hearke, the Trumpets.

A showt, and flourish.

Volum. These are the Vshers of Martius: Before him, hee carryes Noyse; And behinde him, hee leaues Teares: Death, that darke Spirit, in's neruie Arme doth lye, Which being aduanc'd, declines, and then men dye.

A Sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter Cominius the Generall, and Titus Latius: betweene them Coriolanus, crown'd with an Oaken Garland, with Captaines and Souldiers, and a Herauld.

Herauld. Know Rome, that all alone Martius did fight Within Corioles Gates: where he hath wonne, With Fame, a Name to Martius Caius: These in honor followes Martius Caius Coriolanus. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus.

Sound. Flourish.

All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus

Coriol. No more of this, it does offend my heart: pray now no more

Com. Looke, Sir, your Mother

Coriol. Oh! you haue, I know, petition'd all the Gods for my prosperitie.

Kneeles.

Volum. Nay, my good Souldier, vp: My gentle Martius, worthy Caius, And by deed-atchieuing Honor newly nam'd, What is it (Coriolanus) must I call thee? But oh, thy Wife

Corio. My gracious silence, hayle: Would'st thou haue laugh'd, had I come Coffin'd home, That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah my deare, Such eyes the Widowes in Carioles were, And Mothers that lacke Sonnes

Mene. Now the Gods Crowne thee

Com. And liue you yet? Oh my sweet Lady, pardon

Volum. I know not where to turne. Oh welcome home: and welcome Generall, And y'are welcome all

Mene. A hundred thousand Welcomes: I could weepe, and I could laugh, I am light, and heauie; welcome: A Curse begin at very root on's heart, That is not glad to see thee. You are three, that Rome should dote on: Yet by the faith of men, we haue Some old Crab-trees here at home, That will not be grafted to your Rallish. Yet welcome Warriors: Wee call a Nettle, but a Nettle; And the faults of fooles, but folly

Com. Euer right

Cor. Menenius, euer, euer

Herauld. Giue way there, and goe on

Cor. Your Hand, and yours? Ere in our owne house I doe shade my Head, The good Patricians must be visited, From whom I haue receiu'd not onely greetings, But with them, change of Honors

Volum. I haue liued, To see inherited my very Wishes, And the Buildings of my Fancie: Onely there's one thing wanting, Which (I doubt not) but our Rome Will cast vpon thee

Cor. Know, good Mother, I had rather be their seruant in my way, Then sway with them in theirs

Com. On, to the Capitall. Flourish. Cornets.

Exeunt. in State, as before.

Enter Brutus and Scicinius