Chapter 132

Corio. Auffidius, and you Volces marke, for wee'l Heare nought from Rome in priuate. Your request? Volum. Should we be silent & not speak, our Raiment And state of Bodies would bewray what life We haue led since thy Exile. Thinke with thy selfe, How more vnfortunate then all liuing women Are we come hither; since that thy sight, which should Make our eies flow with ioy, harts dance with comforts, Constraines them weepe, and shake with feare & sorow, Making the Mother, wife, and Childe to see, The Sonne, the Husband, and the Father tearing His Countries Bowels out; and to poore we Thine enmities most capitall: Thou barr'st vs Our prayers to the Gods, which is a comfort That all but we enioy. For how can we? Alas! how can we, for our Country pray? Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory: Whereto we are bound: Alacke, or we must loose The Countrie our deere Nurse, or else thy person Our comfort in the Country. We must finde An euident Calamity, though we had Our wish, which side should win. For either thou Must as a Forraine Recreant be led With Manacles through our streets, or else Triumphantly treade on thy Countries ruine, And beare the Palme, for hauing brauely shed Thy Wife and Childrens blood: For my selfe, Sonne, I purpose not to waite on Fortune, till These warres determine: If I cannot perswade thee, Rather to shew a Noble grace to both parts, Then seeke the end of one; thou shalt no sooner March to assault thy Country, then to treade (Trust too't, thou shalt not) on thy Mothers wombe That brought thee to this world

Virg. I, and mine, that brought you forth this boy, To keepe your name liuing to time

Boy. A shall not tread on me: Ile run away Till I am bigger, but then Ile fight

Corio. Not of a womans tendernesse to be, Requires nor Childe, nor womans face to see: I haue sate too long

Volum. Nay, go not from vs thus: If it were so, that our request did tend To saue the Romanes, thereby to destroy The Volces whom you serue, you might condemne vs As poysonous of your Honour. No, our suite Is that you reconcile them: While the Volces May say, this mercy we haue shew'd: the Romanes, This we receiu'd, and each in either side Giue the All-haile to thee, and cry be Blest For making vp this peace. Thou know'st (great Sonne) The end of Warres vncertaine: but this certaine, That if thou conquer Rome, the benefit Which thou shalt thereby reape, is such a name Whose repetition will be dogg'd with Curses: Whose Chronicle thus writ, The man was Noble, But with his last Attempt, he wip'd it out: Destroy'd his Country, and his name remaines To th' insuing Age, abhorr'd. Speake to me Son: Thou hast affected the fiue straines of Honor, To imitate the graces of the Gods. To teare with Thunder the wide Cheekes a'th' Ayre, And yet to change thy Sulphure with a Boult That should but riue an Oake. Why do'st not speake? Think'st thou it Honourable for a Nobleman Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speake you: He cares not for your weeping. Speake thou Boy, Perhaps thy childishnesse will moue him more Then can our Reasons. There's no man in the world More bound to's Mother, yet heere he let's me prate Like one i'th' Stockes. Thou hast neuer in thy life, Shew'd thy deere Mother any curtesie, When she (poor Hen) fond of no second brood, Ha's clock'd thee to the Warres: and safelie home Loden with Honor. Say my Request's vniust, And spurne me backe: But, if it be not so Thou art not honest, and the Gods will plague thee That thou restrain'st from me the Duty, which To a Mothers part belongs. He turnes away: Down Ladies: let vs shame him with him with our knees To his sur-name Coriolanus longs more pride Then pitty to our Prayers. Downe: an end, This is the last. So, we will home to Rome, And dye among our Neighbours: Nay, behold's, This Boy that cannot tell what he would haue, But kneeles, and holds vp hands for fellowship, Doe's reason our Petition with more strength Then thou hast to deny't. Come, let vs go: This Fellow had a Volcean to his Mother: His Wife is in Corioles, and his Childe Like him by chance: yet giue vs our dispatch: I am husht vntill our City be afire, & then Ile speak a litle

Holds her by the hand silent.

Corio. O Mother, Mother! What haue you done? Behold, the Heauens do ope, The Gods looke downe, and this vnnaturall Scene They laugh at. Oh my Mother, Mother: Oh! You haue wonne a happy Victory to Rome. But for your Sonne, beleeue it: Oh beleeue it, Most dangerously you haue with him preuail'd, If not most mortall to him. But let it come: Auffidius, though I cannot make true Warres, Ile frame conuenient peace. Now good Auffidius, Were you in my steed, would you haue heard A Mother lesse? or granted lesse Auffidius? Auf. I was mou'd withall

Corio. I dare be sworne you were: And sir, it is no little thing to make Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But (good sir) What peace you'l make, aduise me: For my part, Ile not to Rome, Ile backe with you, and pray you Stand to me in this cause. Oh Mother! Wife! Auf. I am glad thou hast set thy mercy, & thy Honor At difference in thee: Out of that Ile worke My selfe a former Fortune

Corio. I by and by; But we will drinke together: And you shall beare A better witnesse backe then words, which we On like conditions, will haue Counter-seal'd. Come enter with vs: Ladies you deserue To haue a Temple built you: All the Swords In Italy, and her Confederate Armes Could not haue made this peace.

Exeunt.

Enter Menenius and Sicinius.

Mene. See you yon'd Coin a'th Capitol, yon'd corner stone? Sicin. Why what of that? Mene. If it be possible for you to displace it with your little finger, there is some hope the Ladies of Rome, especially his Mother, may preuaile with him. But I say, there is no hope in't, our throats are sentenc'd, and stay vppon execution

Sicin. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter the condition of a man

Mene. There is differency between a Grub & a Butterfly, yet your Butterfly was a Grub: this Martius, is growne from Man to Dragon: He has wings, hee's more then a creeping thing

Sicin. He lou'd his Mother deerely

Mene. So did he mee: and he no more remembers his Mother now, then an eight yeare old horse. The tartnesse of his face, sowres ripe Grapes. When he walks, he moues like an Engine, and the ground shrinkes before his Treading. He is able to pierce a Corslet with his eye: Talkes like a knell, and his hum is a Battery. He sits in his State, as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids bee done, is finisht with his bidding. He wants nothing of a God but Eternity, and a Heauen to Throne in

Sicin. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly

Mene. I paint him in the Character. Mark what mercy his Mother shall bring from him: There is no more mercy in him, then there is milke in a male-Tyger, that shall our poore City finde: and all this is long of you

Sicin. The Gods be good vnto vs

Mene. No, in such a case the Gods will not bee good vnto vs. When we banish'd him, we respected not them: and he returning to breake our necks, they respect not vs. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Sir, if you'ld saue your life, flye to your House, The Plebeians haue got your Fellow Tribune, And hale him vp and downe; all swearing, if The Romane Ladies bring not comfort home They'l giue him death by Inches. Enter another Messenger.

Sicin. What's the Newes? Mess. Good Newes, good newes, the Ladies haue preuayl'd. The Volcians are dislodg'd, and Martius gone: A merrier day did neuer yet greet Rome, No, not th' expulsion of the Tarquins

Sicin. Friend, art thou certaine this is true? Is't most certaine

Mes. As certaine as I know the Sun is fire: Where haue you lurk'd that you make doubt of it: Ne're through an Arch so hurried the blowne Tide, As the recomforted through th' gates. Why harke you:

Trumpets, Hoboyes, Drums beate, altogether.

The Trumpets, Sack-buts, Psalteries, and Fifes, Tabors, and Symboles, and the showting Romans, Make the Sunne dance. Hearke you.

A shout within

Mene. This is good Newes: I will go meete the Ladies. This Volumnia, Is worth of Consuls, Senators, Patricians, A City full: Of Tribunes such as you, A Sea and Land full: you haue pray'd well to day: This Morning, for ten thousand of your throates, I'de not haue giuen a doit. Harke, how they ioy.

Sound still with the Shouts.

Sicin. First, the Gods blesse you for your tydings: Next, accept my thankefulnesse

Mess. Sir, we haue all great cause to giue great thanks

Sicin. They are neere the City

Mes. Almost at point to enter

Sicin. Wee'l meet them, and helpe the ioy.

Exeunt.

Enter two Senators, with Ladies, passing ouer the Stage, with other Lords.

Sena. Behold our Patronnesse, the life of Rome: Call all your Tribes together, praise the Gods, And make triumphant fires, strew Flowers before them: Vnshoot the noise that Banish'd Martius; Repeale him, with the welcome of his Mother: Cry welcome Ladies, welcome

All. Welcome Ladies, welcome.

A Flourish with Drummes & Trumpets.

Enter Tullus Auffidius, with Attendants.

Auf. Go tell the Lords a'th' City, I am heere: Deliuer them this Paper: hauing read it, Bid them repayre to th' Market place, where I Euen in theirs, and in the Commons eares Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse: The City Ports by this hath enter'd, and Intends t' appeare before the People, hoping To purge himselfe with words. Dispatch. Enter 3 or 4 Conspirators of Auffidius Faction.

Most Welcome

1.Con. How is it with our Generall? Auf. Euen so, as with a man by his owne Almes impoyson'd, and with his Charity slaine

2.Con. Most Noble Sir, If you do hold the same intent Wherein you wisht vs parties: Wee'l deliuer you Of your great danger

Auf. Sir, I cannot tell, We must proceed as we do finde the People

3.Con. The People will remaine vncertaine, whil'st 'Twixt you there's difference: but the fall of either Makes the Suruiuor heyre of all

Auf. I know it: And my pretext to strike at him, admits A good construction. I rais'd him, and I pawn'd Mine Honor for his truth: who being so heighten'd, He watered his new Plants with dewes of Flattery, Seducing so my Friends: and to this end, He bow'd his Nature, neuer knowne before, But to be rough, vnswayable, and free

3.Consp. Sir, his stoutnesse When he did stand for Consull, which he lost By lacke of stooping

Auf. That I would haue spoke of: Being banish'd for't, he came vnto my Harth, Presented to my knife his Throat: I tooke him, Made him ioynt-seruant with me: Gaue him way In all his owne desires: Nay, let him choose Out of my Files, his proiects, to accomplish My best and freshest men, seru'd his designements In mine owne person: holpe to reape the Fame Which he did end all his; and tooke some pride To do my selfe this wrong: Till at the last I seem'd his Follower, not Partner; and He wadg'd me with his Countenance, as if I had bin Mercenary

1.Con. So he did my Lord: The Army marueyl'd at it, and in the last, When he had carried Rome, and that we look'd For no lesse Spoile, then Glory

Auf. There was it: For which my sinewes shall be stretcht vpon him, At a few drops of Womens rhewme, which are As cheape as Lies; he sold the Blood and Labour Of our great Action; therefore shall he dye, And Ile renew me in his fall. But hearke.

Drummes and Trumpets sounds, with great showts of the people.

1.Con. Your Natiue Towne you enter'd like a Poste, And had no welcomes home, but he returnes Splitting the Ayre with noyse

2.Con. And patient Fooles, Whose children he hath slaine, their base throats teare With giuing him glory

3.Con. Therefore at your vantage, Ere he expresse himselfe, or moue the people With what he would say, let him feele your Sword: Which we will second, when he lies along After your way. His Tale pronounc'd, shall bury His Reasons, with his Body

Auf. Say no more. Heere come the Lords, Enter the Lords of the City.

All Lords. You are most welcome home

Auff. I haue not deseru'd it. But worthy Lords, haue you with heede perused What I haue written to you? All. We haue

1.Lord. And greeue to heare't: What faults he made before the last, I thinke Might haue found easie Fines: But there to end Where he was to begin, and giue away The benefit of our Leuies, answering vs With our owne charge: making a Treatie, where There was a yeelding; this admits no excuse

Auf. He approaches, you shall heare him. Enter Coriolanus marching with Drumme, and Colours. The Commoners being with him.

Corio. Haile Lords, I am return'd your Souldier: No more infected with my Countries loue Then when I parted hence: but still subsisting Vnder your great Command. You are to know, That prosperously I haue attempted, and With bloody passage led your Warres, euen to The gates of Rome: Our spoiles we haue brought home Doth more then counterpoize a full third part The charges of the Action. We haue made peace With no lesse Honor to the Antiates Then shame to th' Romaines. And we heere deliuer Subscrib'd by'th' Consuls, and Patricians, Together with the Seale a'th Senat, what We haue compounded on

Auf. Read it not Noble Lords, But tell the Traitor in the highest degree He hath abus'd your Powers

Corio. Traitor? How now? Auf. I Traitor, Martius

Corio. Martius? Auf. I Martius, Caius Martius: Do'st thou thinke Ile grace thee with that Robbery, thy stolne name Coriolanus in Corioles? You Lords and Heads a'th' State, perfidiously He ha's betray'd your businesse, and giuen vp For certaine drops of Salt, your City Rome: I say your City to his Wife and Mother, Breaking his Oath and Resolution, like A twist of rotten Silke, neuer admitting Counsaile a'th' warre: But at his Nurses teares He whin'd and roar'd away your Victory, That Pages blush'd at him, and men of heart Look'd wond'ring each at others

Corio. Hear'st thou Mars? Auf. Name not the God, thou boy of Teares

Corio. Ha? Aufid. No more

Corio. Measurelesse Lyar, thou hast made my heart Too great for what containes it. Boy? Oh Slaue, Pardon me Lords, 'tis the first time that euer I was forc'd to scoul'd. Your iudgments my graue Lords Must giue this Curre the Lye: and his owne Notion, Who weares my stripes imprest vpon him, that Must beare my beating to his Graue, shall ioyne To thrust the Lye vnto him

1 Lord. Peace both, and heare me speake

Corio. Cut me to peeces Volces men and Lads, Staine all your edges on me. Boy, false Hound: If you haue writ your Annales true, 'tis there, That like an Eagle in a Doue-coat, I Flatter'd your Volcians in Corioles. Alone I did it, Boy

Auf. Why Noble Lords, Will you be put in minde of his blinde Fortune, Which was your shame, by this vnholy Braggart? 'Fore your owne eyes, and eares? All Consp. Let him dye for't

All People. Teare him to peeces, do it presently: He kill'd my Sonne, my daughter, he kill'd my Cosine Marcus, he kill'd my Father

2 Lord. Peace hoe: no outrage, peace: The man is Noble, and his Fame folds in This Orbe o'th' earth: His last offences to vs Shall haue Iudicious hearing. Stand Auffidius, And trouble not the peace

Corio. O that I had him, with six Auffidiusses, or more: His Tribe, to vse my lawfull Sword

Auf. Insolent Villaine

All Consp. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.

Draw both the Conspirators, and kils Martius, who falles, Auffidius stands on him

Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold

Auf. My Noble Masters, heare me speake

1.Lord. O Tullus

2.Lord. Thou hast done a deed, whereat Valour will weepe

3.Lord. Tread not vpon him Masters, all be quiet, Put vp your Swords

Auf. My Lords, When you shall know (as in this Rage Prouok'd by him, you cannot) the great danger Which this mans life did owe you, you'l reioyce That he is thus cut off. Please it your Honours To call me to your Senate, Ile deliuer My selfe your loyall Seruant, or endure Your heauiest Censure

1.Lord. Beare from hence his body, And mourne you for him. Let him be regarded As the most Noble Coarse, that euer Herald Did follow to his Vrne

2.Lord. His owne impatience, Takes from Auffidius a great part of blame: Let's make the Best of it

Auf. My Rage is gone, And I am strucke with sorrow. Take him vp: Helpe three a'th' cheefest Souldiers, Ile be one. Beate thou the Drumme that it speake mournfully: Traile your steele Pikes. Though in this City hee Hath widdowed and vnchilded many a one, Which to this houre bewaile the Iniury, Yet he shall haue a Noble Memory. Assist.

Exeunt. bearing the Body of Martius. A dead March Sounded.

FINIS. The Tragedy of Coriolanus.

The Tragedie of Titus Andronicus

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Flourish. Enter the Tribunes and Senators aloft And then enter Saturninus and his Followers at one doore, and Bassianus and his Followers at the other, with Drum & Colours.

Saturninus. Noble Patricians, Patrons of my right, Defend the iustice of my Cause with Armes. And Countrey-men, my louing Followers, Pleade my Successiue Title with your Swords. I was the first borne Sonne, that was the last That wore the Imperiall Diadem of Rome: Then let my Fathers Honours liue in me, Nor wrong mine Age with this indignitie

Bassianus. Romaines, Friends, Followers, Fauourers of my Right: If euer Bassianus, Cæsars Sonne, Were gracious in the eyes of Royall Rome, Keepe then this passage to the Capitoll: And suffer not Dishonour to approach Th' Imperiall Seate to Vertue: consecrate To Iustice, Continence, and Nobility: But let Desert in pure Election shine; And Romanes, fight for Freedome in your Choice. Enter Marcus Andronicus aloft with the Crowne.

Princes, that striue by Factions, and by Friends, Ambitiously for Rule and Empery: Know, that the people of Rome for whom we stand A speciall Party, haue by Common voyce In Election for the Romane Emperie, Chosen Andronicus, Sur-named Pious, For many good and great deserts to Rome. A Nobler man, a brauer Warriour, Liues not this day within the City Walles. He by the Senate is accited home From weary Warres against the barbarous Gothes, That with his Sonnes (a terror to our Foes) Hath yoak'd a Nation strong, train'd vp in Armes. Ten yeares are spent, since first he vndertooke This Cause of Rome, and chasticed with Armes Our Enemies pride. Fiue times he hath return'd Bleeding to Rome, bearing his Valiant Sonnes In Coffins from the Field. And now at last, laden with Honours Spoyles, Returnes the good Andronicus to Rome, Renowned Titus, flourishing in Armes. Let vs intreat, by Honour of his Name, Whom (worthily) you would haue now succeede, And in the Capitoll and Senates right, Whom you pretend to Honour and Adore, That you withdraw you, and abate your Strength, Dismisse your Followers, and as Suters should, Pleade your Deserts in Peace and Humblenesse

Saturnine. How fayre the Tribune speakes, To calme my thoughts

Bassia. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affie In thy vprightnesse and Integrity: And so I Loue and Honor thee, and thine, Thy Noble Brother Titus, and his Sonnes, And Her (to whom my thoughts are humbled all) Gracious Lauinia, Romes rich Ornament, That I will heere dismisse my louing Friends: And to my Fortunes, and the Peoples Fauour, Commit my Cause in ballance to be weigh'd.

Exit Souldiours.

Saturnine. Friends, that haue beene Thus forward in my Right, I thanke you all, and heere Dismisse you all, And to the Loue and Fauour of my Countrey, Commit my Selfe, my Person, and the Cause: Rome, be as iust and gracious vnto me, As I am confident and kinde to thee. Open the Gates, and let me in

Bassia. Tribunes, and me, a poore Competitor.

Flourish. They go vp into the Senat house.

Enter a Captaine.

Cap. Romanes make way: the good Andronicus, Patron of Vertue, Romes best Champion, Successefull in the Battailes that he fights, With Honour and with Fortune is return'd, From whence he circumscribed with his Sword, And brought to yoke the Enemies of Rome.

Sound Drummes and Trumpets. And then enter two of Titus Sonnes; After them, two men bearing a Coffin couered with blacke, then two other Sonnes. After them, Titus Andronicus, and then Tamora the Queene of Gothes, & her two Sonnes Chiron and Demetrius, with Aaron the Moore, and others, as many as can bee: They set downe the Coffin, and Titus speakes.

Andronicus. Haile Rome: Victorious in thy Mourning Weedes: Loe as the Barke that hath discharg'd his fraught, Returnes with precious lading to the Bay, From whence at first she weigh'd her Anchorage: Commeth Andronicus bound with Lawrell bowes, To resalute his Country with his teares, Teares of true ioy for his returne to Rome, Thou great defender of this Capitoll, Stand gracious to the Rites that we intend. Romaines, of fiue and twenty Valiant Sonnes, Halfe of the number that King Priam had, Behold the poore remaines aliue and dead! These that Suruiue, let Rome reward with Loue: These that I bring vnto their latest home, With buriall amongst their Auncestors. Heere Gothes haue giuen me leaue to sheath my Sword: Titus vnkinde, and carelesse of thine owne, Why suffer'st thou thy Sonnes vnburied yet, To houer on the dreadfull shore of Stix? Make way to lay them by their Bretheren.

They open the Tombe.

There greete in silence as the dead are wont, And sleepe in peace, slaine in your Countries warres: O sacred receptacle of my ioyes, Sweet Cell of vertue and Nobilitie, How many Sonnes of mine hast thou in store, That thou wilt neuer render to me more? Luc. Giue vs the proudest prisoner of the Gothes, That we may hew his limbes, and on a pile Ad manus fratrum, sacrifice his flesh: Before this earthly prison of their bones, That so the shadowes be not vnappeas'd, Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth

Tit. I giue him you, the Noblest that Suruiues, The eldest Son of this distressed Queene

Tam. Stay Romaine Bretheren, gracious Conqueror, Victorious Titus, rue the teares I shed, A Mothers teares in passion for her sonne: And if thy Sonnes were euer deere to thee, Oh thinke my sonnes to be as deere to mee. Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome To beautifie thy Triumphs, and returne Captiue to thee, and to thy Romaine yoake, But must my Sonnes be slaughtred in the streetes, For Valiant doings in their Countries cause? O! If to fight for King and Common-weale, Were piety in thine, it is in these: Andronicus, staine not thy Tombe with blood. Wilt thou draw neere the nature of the Gods? Draw neere them then in being mercifull. Sweet mercy is Nobilities true badge, Thrice Noble Titus, spare my first borne sonne

Tit. Patient your selfe Madam, and pardon me. These are the Brethren, whom you Gothes beheld Aliue and dead, and for their Bretheren slaine, Religiously they aske a sacrifice: To this your sonne is markt, and die he must, T' appease their groaning shadowes that are gone

Luc. Away with him, and make a fire straight, And with our Swords vpon a pile of wood, Let's hew his limbes till they be cleane consum'd.

Exit Sonnes with Alarbus.

Tamo. O cruell irreligious piety

Chi. Was euer Scythia halfe so barbarous? Dem. Oppose me Scythia to ambitious Rome, Alarbus goes to rest, and we suruiue, To tremble vnder Titus threatning lookes. Then Madam stand resolu'd, but hope withall, The selfe same Gods that arm'd the Queene of Troy With opportunitie of sharpe reuenge Vpon the Thracian Tyrant in his Tent, May fauour Tamora the Queene of Gothes, (When Gothes were Gothes, and Tamora was Queene) To quit the bloody wrongs vpon her foes. Enter the Sonnes of Andronicus againe.

Luci. See Lord and Father, how we haue perform'd Our Romaine rightes, Alarbus limbs are lopt, And intrals feede the sacrifising fire, Whole smoke like incense doth perfume the skie. Remaineth nought but to interre our Brethren, And with low'd Larums welcome them to Rome

Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronicus Make this his latest farewell to their Soules.

Flourish.

Then Sound Trumpets, and lay the Coffins in the Tombe.