Part 27

VOLUMNIA. He had rather see the swords and hear a drum than look upon his schoolmaster.

VALERIA. O’ my word, the father’s son! I’ll swear ’tis a very pretty boy. O’ my troth, I looked upon him o’ Wednesday half an hour together. H’as such a confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded butterfly, and when he caught it, he let it go again, and after it again, and over and over he comes, and up again, catched it again. Or whether his fall enraged him or how ’twas, he did so set his teeth and tear it. O, I warrant how he mammocked it!

VOLUMNIA. One on’s father’s moods.

VALERIA. Indeed, la, ’tis a noble child.

VIRGILIA. A crack, madam.

VALERIA. Come, lay aside your stitchery. I must have you play the idle huswife with me this afternoon.

VIRGILIA. No, good madam, I will not out of doors.

VALERIA. Not out of doors?

VOLUMNIA. She shall, she shall.

VIRGILIA. Indeed, no, by your patience. I’ll not over the threshold till my lord return from the wars.

VALERIA. Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably. Come, you must go visit the good lady that lies in.

VIRGILIA. I will wish her speedy strength and visit her with my prayers, but I cannot go thither.

VOLUMNIA. Why, I pray you?

VIRGILIA. ’Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love.

VALERIA. You would be another Penelope. Yet they say all the yarn she spun in Ulysses’ absence did but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come, I would your cambric were sensible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us.

VIRGILIA. No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth.

VALERIA. In truth, la, go with me, and I’ll tell you excellent news of your husband.

VIRGILIA. O, good madam, there can be none yet.

VALERIA. Verily, I do not jest with you. There came news from him last night.

VIRGILIA. Indeed, madam!

VALERIA. In earnest, it’s true. I heard a senator speak it. Thus it is: the Volsces 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 Corioles. They nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief wars. This is true, on mine honour, and so, I pray, go with us.

VIRGILIA. Give me excuse, good madam. I will obey you in everything hereafter.

VOLUMNIA. Let her alone, lady. As she is now, she will but disease our better mirth.

VALERIA. In troth, I think she would.—Fare you well, then.—Come, good sweet lady.—Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o’ door, and go along with us.

VIRGILIA. No, at a word, madam. Indeed I must not. I wish you much mirth.

VALERIA. Well then, farewell.

[_Exeunt._]

SCENE IV. Before Corioles

Enter Martius, Titus Lartius, with drum and colours, with Captains and Soldiers, as before the city of Corioles. To them a Messenger.

MARTIUS. Yonder comes news. A wager they have met.

LARTIUS. My horse to yours, no.

MARTIUS. ’Tis done.

LARTIUS. Agreed.

MARTIUS. [_To Messenger_.] Say, has our general met the enemy?

MESSENGER. They lie in view but have not spoke as yet.

LARTIUS. So the good horse is mine.

MARTIUS. I’ll buy him of you.

LARTIUS. No, I’ll nor sell nor give him. Lend you him I will For half a hundred years.—Summon the town.

MARTIUS. How far off lie these armies?

MESSENGER. Within this mile and half.

MARTIUS. Then shall we hear their ’larum, and they ours. Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work, That we with smoking swords may march from hence To help our fielded friends!—Come, blow thy blast.

[_They sound a parley._]

Enter two Senators with others on the walls of Corioles.

Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls?

FIRST SENATOR. No, nor a man that fears you less than he: That’s lesser than a little. [_Drum afar off_.] Hark, our drums Are bringing forth our youth. We’ll break our walls Rather than they shall pound us up. Our gates, Which yet seem shut, we have but pinned with rushes. They’ll open of themselves. [_Alarum far off_.] Hark you, far off! There is Aufidius. List what work he makes Amongst your cloven army.

MARTIUS. O, they are at it!

LARTIUS. Their noise be our instruction.—Ladders, ho!

Enter the Army of the Volsces as through the city gates.

MARTIUS. They fear us not but issue forth their city.— Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proof than shields.—Advance, brave Titus. They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, Which makes me sweat with wrath.—Come on, my fellows! He that retires, I’ll take him for a Volsce, And he shall feel mine edge.

[_Alarums. The Romans are beat back to their trenches. They exit, with the Volsces following_.]

Enter Martius cursing, with Roman soldiers.

MARTIUS. All the contagion of the south light on you, You shames of Rome! You herd of—Boils and plagues Plaster you o’er, that you may be abhorred Farther than seen, and one infect another Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese, That bear the shapes of men, how have you run From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell! All hurt behind. Backs red, and faces pale With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge home, Or, by the fires of heaven, I’ll leave the foe And make my wars on you. Look to’t. Come on! If you’ll stand fast we’ll beat them to their wives, As they us to our trenches. Follow’s!

[_Another alarum. The Volsces re-enter and are driven back to the gates of Corioles, which open to admit them._]

So, now the gates are ope. Now prove good seconds! ’Tis for the followers fortune widens them, Not for the fliers. Mark me, and do the like.

[_Martius follows the fleeing Volsces through the gates, and is shut in._]

FIRST SOLDIER. Foolhardiness, not I.

SECOND SOLDIER. Nor I.

FIRST SOLDIER. See, they have shut him in.

[_Alarum continues._]

ALL. To th’ pot, I warrant him.

Enter Titus Lartius.

LARTIUS. What is become of Martius?

ALL. Slain, sir, doubtless.

FIRST SOLDIER. Following the fliers at the very heels, With them he enters, who upon the sudden Clapped to their gates. He is himself alone, To answer all the city.

LARTIUS. O noble fellow, Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword, And when it bows, stand’st up! Thou art left, Martius. A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art, Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier Even to Cato’s wish, not fierce and terrible Only in strokes, but with thy grim looks and The thunderlike percussion of thy sounds Thou mad’st thine enemies shake, as if the world Were feverous and did tremble.

Enter Martius, bleeding, assaulted by the enemy.

FIRST SOLDIER. Look, sir.

LARTIUS. O, ’tis Martius! Let’s fetch him off or make remain alike.

[_They fight, and all enter the city._]

SCENE V. Within Corioles. A street

Enter certain Romans, with spoils.

FIRST ROMAN. This will I carry to Rome.

SECOND ROMAN. And I this.

THIRD ROMAN. A murrain on’t! I took this for silver.

Enter Martius and Titus Lartius with a Trumpet.

MARTIUS. See here these movers that do prize their hours At a cracked drachma. Cushions, leaden spoons, Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves, Ere yet the fight be done, pack up. Down with them!

[_Exit the Romans with spoils._]

[_Alarum continues still afar off._]

And hark, what noise the General makes! To him! There is the man of my soul’s hate, Aufidius, Piercing our Romans. Then, valiant Titus, take Convenient numbers to make good the city, Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste To help Cominius.

LARTIUS. Worthy sir, thou bleed’st. Thy exercise hath been too violent For a second course of fight.

MARTIUS. Sir, praise me not. My work hath yet not warmed me. Fare you well. The blood I drop is rather physical Than dangerous to me. To Aufidius thus I will appear and fight.

LARTIUS. Now the fair goddess Fortune Fall deep in love with thee, and her great charms Misguide thy opposers’ swords! Bold gentleman, Prosperity be thy page!

MARTIUS. Thy friend no less Than those she placeth highest! So farewell.

LARTIUS. Thou worthiest Martius!

[_Exit Martius._]

Go sound thy trumpet in the marketplace. Call thither all the officers o’ th’ town, Where they shall know our mind. Away!

[_Exeunt._]

SCENE VI. Near the camp of Cominius

Enter Cominius as it were in retire, with Soldiers.

COMINIUS. Breathe you, my friends. Well fought! We are come off Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands Nor cowardly in retire. Believe me, sirs, We shall be charged again. Whiles we have struck, By interims and conveying gusts we have heard The charges of our friends. The Roman gods Lead their successes as we wish our own, That both our powers, with smiling fronts encount’ring, May give you thankful sacrifice!

Enter a Messenger.

Thy news?

MESSENGER. The citizens of Corioles have issued, And given to Lartius and to Martius battle. I saw our party to their trenches driven, And then I came away.

COMINIUS. Though thou speakest truth, Methinks thou speak’st not well. How long is’t since?

MESSENGER. Above an hour, my lord.

COMINIUS. ’Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums. How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour And bring thy news so late?

MESSENGER. Spies of the Volsces Held me in chase, that I was forced to wheel Three or four miles about; else had I, sir, Half an hour since brought my report.

[_Exit Messenger._]

Enter Martius, bloody.

COMINIUS. Who’s yonder, That does appear as he were flayed? O gods, He has the stamp of Martius, and I have Before-time seen him thus.

MARTIUS. Come I too late?

COMINIUS. The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor More than I know the sound of Martius’ tongue From every meaner man.

MARTIUS. Come I too late?

COMINIUS. Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, But mantled in your own.

MARTIUS. O, let me clip you In arms as sound as when I wooed, in heart As merry as when our nuptial day was done And tapers burned to bedward!

COMINIUS. Flower of warriors, how is’t with Titus Lartius?

MARTIUS. As with a man busied about decrees, Condemning some to death and some to exile; Ransoming him or pitying, threat’ning the other; Holding Corioles in the name of Rome Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, To let him slip at will.

COMINIUS. Where is that slave Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? Where’s he? Call him hither.

MARTIUS. Let him alone. He did inform the truth. But for our gentlemen, The common file—a plague! Tribunes for them!— The mouse ne’er shunned the cat as they did budge From rascals worse than they.

COMINIUS. But how prevailed you?

MARTIUS. Will the time serve to tell? I do not think. Where is the enemy? Are you lords o’ th’ field? If not, why cease you till you are so?

COMINIUS. Martius, we have at disadvantage fought, And did retire to win our purpose.

MARTIUS. How lies their battle? Know you on which side They have placed their men of trust?

COMINIUS. As I guess, Martius, Their bands i’ th’ vaward are the Antiates, Of their best trust; o’er them Aufidius, Their very heart of hope.

MARTIUS. I do beseech you, By all the battles wherein we have fought, By th’ blood we have shed together, by th’ vows we have made To endure friends, that you directly set me Against Aufidius and his Antiates, And that you not delay the present, but, Filling the air with swords advanced and darts, We prove this very hour.

COMINIUS. Though I could wish You were conducted to a gentle bath And balms applied to you, yet dare I never Deny your asking. Take your choice of those That best can aid your action.

MARTIUS. Those are they That most are willing. If any such be here— As it were sin to doubt—that love this painting Wherein you see me smeared; if any fear Lesser his person than an ill report; If any think brave death outweighs bad life, And that his country’s dearer than himself; Let him alone, or so many so minded, Wave thus to express his disposition And follow Martius.

[_He waves his sword._]

[_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 Volsces? None of you but is Able to bear against the great Aufidius A shield as hard as his. A certain number, Though thanks to all, must I select from all. The rest shall bear the business in some other fight, As cause will be obeyed. Please you to march, And I shall quickly draw out my command, Which men are best inclined.

COMINIUS. March on, my fellows. Make good this ostentation, and you shall Divide in all with us.

[_Exeunt._]

SCENE VII. The gates of Corioles

Titus Lartius, having set a guard upon Corioles, going with drum and trumpet toward Cominius and Caius Martius, enters with a Lieutenant, other Soldiers, and a Scout.

LARTIUS. So, let the ports be guarded. Keep your duties As I have set them down. If I do send, dispatch Those centuries to our aid; the rest will serve For a short holding. If we lose the field, We cannot keep the town.

LIEUTENANT. Fear not our care, sir.

LARTIUS. Hence, and shut your gates upon’s. Our guider, come. To th’ Roman camp conduct us.

[_Exeunt._]

SCENE VIII. A field of battle between the Roman and the Volscian camps

Alarum, as in battle. Enter Martius and Aufidius at several doors.

MARTIUS. I’ll fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee Worse than a promise-breaker.

AUFIDIUS. We hate alike. Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot.

MARTIUS. Let the first budger die the other’s slave, And the gods doom him after!

AUFIDIUS. If I fly, Martius, Hollo me like a hare.

MARTIUS. Within these three hours, Tullus, Alone I fought in your Corioles’ walls, And made what work I pleased. ’Tis not my blood Wherein thou seest me masked. For thy revenge Wrench up thy power to th’ highest.

AUFIDIUS. Wert thou the Hector That was the whip of your bragged progeny, Thou shouldst not scape me here.

[_Here they fight, and certain Volsces come to the aid of Aufidius._]

Officious and not valiant, you have shamed me In your condemned seconds.

[_Martius fights till they be driven in breathless. Aufidius and Martius exit, separately._]

SCENE IX. The Roman camp

Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter, at one door, Cominius with the Romans; at another door, Martius, with his arm in a scarf.

COMINIUS. If I should tell thee o’er this thy day’s work, Thou’t not believe thy deeds. But I’ll report it Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles; Where great patricians shall attend and shrug, I’ th’ end admire; where ladies shall be frighted And, gladly quaked, hear more; where the dull tribunes, That with the fusty plebeians hate thine honours, Shall say against their hearts “We thank the gods Our Rome hath such a soldier.” Yet cam’st thou to a morsel of this feast, Having fully dined before.

Enter Titus Lartius with his power, from the pursuit.

LARTIUS. O general, Here is the steed, we the caparison. Hadst thou beheld—

MARTIUS. Pray now, no more. My mother, Who has a charter to extol her blood, When she does praise me grieves me. I have done As you have done—that’s what I can; Induced as you have been—that’s for my country. He that has but effected his good will Hath overta’en mine act.

COMINIUS. You shall not be The grave of your deserving. Rome must know The value of her own. ’Twere a concealment Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement, To hide your doings and to silence that Which, to the spire and top of praises vouched, Would seem but modest. Therefore, I beseech you— In sign of what you are, not to reward What you have done—before our army hear me.

MARTIUS. I have some wounds upon me, and they smart To hear themselves remembered.

COMINIUS. Should they not, Well might they fester ’gainst ingratitude And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses— Whereof we have ta’en good and good store—of all The treasure in this field achieved and city, We render you the tenth, to be ta’en forth Before the common distribution At your only choice.

MARTIUS. I thank you, general, But cannot make my heart consent to take A bribe to pay my sword. I do refuse it; And stand upon my common part with those That have beheld the doing.

[_A long flourish. They all cry “Martius, Martius!” and cast up their caps and lances. Cominius and Lartius stand bare._]

May these same instruments which, you profane, Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall I’ th’ field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be Made all of false-faced soothing! When steel grows soft Soft as the parasite’s silk, let him be made An ovator for the wars! No more, I say. For that I have not washed my nose that bled, Or foiled some debile wretch—which, without note, Here’s many else have done—you shout me forth In acclamations hyperbolical, As if I loved my little should be dieted In praises sauced with lies.

COMINIUS. 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 incensed, we’ll put you, Like one that means his proper harm, in manacles, Then reason safely with you. Therefore be it known, As to us to all the world, that Caius Martius Wears this war’s garland, in token of the which My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him, With all his trim belonging. And from this time, For what he did before Corioles, call him, With all th’ applause and clamour of the host, Caius Martius Coriolanus! Bear Th’ addition nobly ever!

[_Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums._]

ALL. Caius Martius Coriolanus!

CORIOLANUS. I will go wash; And when my face is fair, you shall perceive Whether I blush or no. Howbeit, I thank you. I mean to stride your steed and at all times To undercrest your good addition To th’ fairness of my power.

COMINIUS. So, to our tent, Where, ere we do repose us, we will write To Rome of our success.—You, Titus Lartius, Must to Corioles back. Send us to Rome The best, with whom we may articulate For their own good and ours.

LARTIUS. I shall, my lord.

CORIOLANUS. The gods begin to mock me. I, that now Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg Of my lord general.

COMINIUS. Take’t, ’tis yours. What is’t?

CORIOLANUS. I sometime lay here in Corioles At a poor man’s house; he used me kindly. He cried to me; I saw him prisoner; But then Aufidius was within my view, And wrath o’erwhelmed my pity. I request you To give my poor host freedom.

COMINIUS. O, well begged! Were he the butcher of my son, he should Be free as is the wind.—Deliver him, Titus.

LARTIUS. Martius, his name?

CORIOLANUS. By Jupiter, forgot! I am weary; yea, my memory is tired. Have we no wine here?

COMINIUS. Go we to our tent. The blood upon your visage dries; ’tis time It should be looked to. Come.

[_A flourish of cornets. Exeunt._]

SCENE X. The camp of the Volsces

A flourish. Cornets. Enter Tullus Aufidius, bloody, with two or three soldiers.

AUFIDIUS. The town is ta’en.

SOLDIER. ’Twill be delivered back on good condition.

AUFIDIUS. Condition? I would I were a Roman, for I cannot, Being a Volsce, be that I am. Condition? What good condition can a treaty find I’ th’ part that is at mercy? Five times, Martius, I have fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter As often as we eat. By th’ elements, If e’er again I meet him beard to beard, He’s mine or I am his. Mine emulation Hath not that honour in’t it had; for where I thought to crush him in an equal force, True sword to sword, I’ll potch at him some way, Or wrath or craft may get him.

SOLDIER. He’s the devil.

AUFIDIUS. Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour’s poisoned With only suff’ring stain by him; for him Shall fly out of itself. Nor sleep nor sanctuary, Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol, The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice, Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up Their rotten privilege and custom ’gainst My hate to Martius. Where I find him, were it At home, upon my brother’s guard, even there, Against the hospitable canon, would I Wash my fierce hand in’s heart. Go you to th’ city; Learn how ’tis held and what they are that must Be hostages for Rome.

SOLDIER. Will not you go?

AUFIDIUS. I am attended at the cypress grove. I pray you— ’Tis south the city mills,—bring me word thither How the world goes, that to the pace of it I may spur on my journey.

SOLDIER. I shall, sir.

[_Exeunt._]

ACT II

SCENE I. Rome. A public place

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

MENENIUS. The augurer tells me we shall have news tonight.

BRUTUS. Good or bad?

MENENIUS. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Martius.

SICINIUS. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.

MENENIUS. Pray you, who does the wolf love?

SICINIUS. The lamb.

MENENIUS. Ay, to devour him, as the hungry plebeians would the noble Martius.

BRUTUS. He’s a lamb indeed, that baas like a bear.

MENENIUS. 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 TRIBUNES. Well, sir.

MENENIUS. In what enormity is Martius poor in, that you two have not in abundance?

BRUTUS. He’s poor in no one fault, but stored with all.

SICINIUS. Especially in pride.

BRUTUS. And topping all others in boasting.

MENENIUS. This is strange now. Do you two know how you are censured here in the city, I mean of us o’ th’ right-hand file, do you?

BOTH TRIBUNES. Why, how are we censured?

MENENIUS. Because you talk of pride now, will you not be angry?

BOTH TRIBUNES. Well, well, sir, well?

MENENIUS. Why, ’tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience. Give your dispositions the reins, and be 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.

BRUTUS. We do it not alone, sir.

MENENIUS. 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 infantlike for doing much alone. You talk of pride. O that you could turn your eyes toward the napes of your necks and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O, that you could!

BOTH TRIBUNES. What then, sir?

MENENIUS. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates, alias fools, as any in Rome.

SICINIUS. Menenius, you are known well enough, too.

MENENIUS. I am known to be a humorous patrician and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber 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 with the forehead of the morning. What I think I utter, and spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two such wealsmen as you are—I cannot call you Lycurguses—if the drink you give me touch my palate adversely, I make a crooked face at it. 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 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, 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?

BRUTUS. Come, sir, come; we know you well enough.