# The Complete Works of William Shakespeare ## Part 28 Book page: https://www.cyberlibrary.org/en/books/the-complete-works-of-william-shakespeare-100/index.md MENENIUS. You know neither me, yourselves, nor anything. 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 faucet-seller, and then rejourn the controversy of threepence to a second day of audience. When you are hearing a matter between party and party, 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 chamber pot, 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. BRUTUS. Come, come. You are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table than a necessary bencher in the Capitol. MENENIUS. 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 packsaddle. Yet you must be saying Martius is proud, who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors since Deucalion, though peradventure some of the best of ’em 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. [_He begins to exit. Brutus and Sicinius stand aside._] Enter Volumnia, Virgilia and Valeria How now, my as fair as noble ladies—and the moon, were she earthly, no nobler—whither do you follow your eyes so fast? VOLUMNIA. Honourable Menenius, my boy Martius approaches. For the love of Juno, let’s go! MENENIUS. Ha? Martius coming home? VOLUMNIA. Ay, worthy Menenius, and with most prosperous approbation. MENENIUS. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee! Hoo! Martius coming home? VALERIA, VIRGILIA. Nay, ’tis true. VOLUMNIA. Look, here’s a letter from him. The state hath another, his wife another, and I think there’s one at home for you. MENENIUS. I will make my very house reel tonight. A letter for me? VIRGILIA. Yes, certain, there’s a letter for you; I saw it. MENENIUS. 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 prescription in Galen is but empiricutic and, to this preservative, of no better report than a horse drench. Is he not wounded? He was wont to come home wounded. VIRGILIA. O, no, no, no! VOLUMNIA. O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for’t. MENENIUS. So do I too, if it be not too much. Brings he victory in his pocket, the wounds become him. VOLUMNIA. On’s brows, Menenius. He comes the third time home with the oaken garland. MENENIUS. Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly? VOLUMNIA. Titus Lartius writes they fought together, but Aufidius got off. MENENIUS. And ’twas time for him too, I’ll warrant him that. An he had stayed by him, I would not have been so ’fidiused for all the chests in Corioles and the gold that’s in them. Is the Senate possessed of this? VOLUMNIA. Good ladies, let’s go.—Yes, yes, yes. The Senate has letters from the General, wherein he gives my son the whole name of the war. He hath in this action outdone his former deeds doubly. VALERIA. In troth, there’s wondrous things spoke of him. MENENIUS. Wondrous? Ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing. VIRGILIA. The gods grant them true. VOLUMNIA. True? Pow, waw! MENENIUS. True? I’ll be sworn they are true. Where is he wounded? [_To the Tribunes_.] God save your good Worships! Martius is coming home; he has more cause to be proud.—Where is he wounded? VOLUMNIA. I’ th’ shoulder and i’ th’ 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’ th’ body. MENENIUS. One i’ th’ neck and two i’ th’ thigh—there’s nine that I know. VOLUMNIA. He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five wounds upon him. MENENIUS. Now it’s twenty-seven. Every gash was an enemy’s grave. [_A shout and flourish_.] Hark, the trumpets! VOLUMNIA. These are the ushers of Martius: before him he carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears. Death, that dark spirit, in’s nervy arm doth lie, Which, being advanced, declines, and then men die. [_A sennet_.] Enter Cominius the General and Titus Lartius, between them Coriolanus crowned with an oaken garland, with Captains and Soldiers and a Herald. Trumpets sound. HERALD. Know, Rome, that all alone Martius did fight Within Corioles’ gates, where he hath won, With fame, a name to Caius Martius; these In honour follows “Coriolanus.” Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus. [_Sound flourish._] ALL. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! CORIOLANUS. No more of this, it does offend my heart. Pray now, no more. COMINIUS. Look, sir, your mother. CORIOLANUS. O, You have, I know, petitioned all the gods For my prosperity. [_Kneels._] VOLUMNIA. Nay, my good soldier, up. [_He stands._] My gentle Martius, worthy Caius, and By deed-achieving honour newly named— What is it? Coriolanus must I call thee? But, O, thy wife— CORIOLANUS. My gracious silence, hail. Wouldst thou have laughed had I come coffined home, That weep’st to see me triumph? Ah, my dear, Such eyes the widows in Corioles wear And mothers that lack sons. MENENIUS. Now the gods crown thee! CORIOLANUS. And live you yet? [_To Valeria_] O my sweet lady, pardon. VOLUMNIA. I know not where to turn. O, welcome home! And welcome, general.—And you’re welcome all. MENENIUS. A hundred thousand welcomes! I could weep, And I could laugh; I am light and heavy. 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 have some old crab trees here at home that will not Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors! We call a nettle but a nettle, and The faults of fools but folly. COMINIUS. Ever right. CORIOLANUS. Menenius ever, ever. HERALD. Give way there, and go on! CORIOLANUS. [_To Volumnia and Virgilia_.] Your hand, and yours. Ere in our own house I do shade my head, The good patricians must be visited, From whom I have received not only greetings, But with them change of honours. VOLUMNIA. I have lived To see inherited my very wishes And the buildings of my fancy. Only There’s one thing wanting, which I doubt not but Our Rome will cast upon thee. CORIOLANUS. Know, good mother, I had rather be their servant in my way Than sway with them in theirs. COMINIUS. On, to the Capitol. [_Flourish of cornets. Exeunt in state, as before._] Brutus and Sicinius come forward. BRUTUS. All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights Are spectacled to see him. Your prattling nurse Into a rapture lets her baby cry While she chats him. The kitchen malkin pins Her richest lockram ’bout her reechy neck, Clamb’ring the walls to eye him. Stalls, bulks, windows Are smothered up, leads filled, and ridges horsed With variable complexions, all agreeing In earnestness to see him. Seld-shown flamens Do press among the popular throngs and puff To win a vulgar station. Our veiled dames Commit the war of white and damask in Their nicely-gauded cheeks to th’ wanton spoil Of Phoebus’ burning kisses. Such a pother, As if that whatsoever god who leads him Were slyly crept into his human powers And gave him graceful posture. SICINIUS. On the sudden I warrant him consul. BRUTUS. Then our office may, During his power, go sleep. SICINIUS. He cannot temp’rately transport his honours From where he should begin and end, but will Lose those he hath won. BRUTUS. In that there’s comfort. SICINIUS. Doubt not the commoners, for whom we stand, But they, upon their ancient malice will forget With the least cause these his new honours—which That he will give them make as little question As he is proud to do’t. BRUTUS. I heard him swear, Were he to stand for consul, never would he Appear i’ th’ marketplace nor on him put The napless vesture of humility, Nor showing, as the manner is, his wounds To th’ people, beg their stinking breaths. SICINIUS. ’Tis right. BRUTUS. It was his word. O, he would miss it rather Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him And the desire of the nobles. SICINIUS. I wish no better Than have him hold that purpose and to put it In execution. BRUTUS. ’Tis most like he will. SICINIUS. It shall be to him then, as our good wills, A sure destruction. BRUTUS. So it must fall out To him, or our authorities for an end. We must suggest the people in what hatred He still hath held them; that to’s power he would Have made them mules, silenced their pleaders, and Dispropertied their freedoms; holding them In human action and capacity Of no more soul nor fitness for the world Than camels in their war, who have their provand Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows For sinking under them. SICINIUS. This, as you say, suggested At some time when his soaring insolence Shall touch the people—which time shall not want If it be put upon’t, and that’s as easy As to set dogs on sheep—will be his fire To kindle their dry stubble, and their blaze Shall darken him for ever. Enter a Messenger. BRUTUS. What’s the matter? MESSENGER. You are sent for to the Capitol. ’Tis thought That Martius shall be consul. I have seen The dumb men throng to see him, and the blind to hear him speak; matrons flung gloves, Ladies and maids their scarves and handkerchiefs, Upon him as he passed; the nobles bended As to Jove’s statue, and the Commons made A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts. I never saw the like. BRUTUS. Let’s to the Capitol; And carry with us ears and eyes for th’ time, But hearts for the event. SICINIUS. Have with you. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. Rome. The Capitol Enter two Officers, to lay cushions, as it were in the Capitol. FIRST OFFICER. Come, come. They are almost here. How many stand for consulships? SECOND OFFICER. Three, they say; but ’tis thought of everyone Coriolanus will carry it. FIRST OFFICER. That’s a brave fellow, but he’s vengeance proud and loves not the common people. SECOND OFFICER. ’Faith, there have been many great men that have flattered the people who ne’er loved them; and there be many that they have loved they know not wherefore; so that, if they love they know not why, they hate upon no better a ground. Therefore, for Coriolanus neither to care whether they love or hate him manifests the true knowledge he has in their disposition and, out of his noble carelessness, lets them plainly see’t. FIRST OFFICER. If he did not care whether he had their love or no, he waved indifferently ’twixt doing them neither good nor harm; but he seeks their hate with greater devotion than they can render it him and leaves nothing undone that may fully discover him their opposite. Now, to seem to affect the malice and displeasure of the people is as bad as that which he dislikes, to flatter them for their love. SECOND OFFICER. He hath deserved worthily of his country, and his ascent is not by such easy degrees as those who, having been supple and courteous to the people, bonnetted, without any further deed to have them at all into their estimation and report; but he hath so planted his honours in their eyes and his actions in their hearts that for their tongues to be silent and not confess so much were a kind of ingrateful injury. To report otherwise were a malice that, giving itself the lie, would pluck reproof and rebuke from every ear that heard it. FIRST OFFICER. No more of him; he’s a worthy man. Make way. They are coming. A sennet. Enter the Patricians and the Tribunes of the people, Lictors before them; Coriolanus, Menenius, Cominius the consul. The Patricians sit. Sicinius and Brutus take their places by themselves. Coriolanus stands. MENENIUS. Having determined of the Volsces and To send for Titus Lartius, it remains, As the main point of this our after-meeting, To gratify his noble service that Hath thus stood for his country. Therefore please you, Most reverend and grave elders, to desire The present consul and last general In our well-found successes to report A little of that worthy work performed By Martius Caius Coriolanus, whom We met here both to thank and to remember With honours like himself. [_Coriolanus sits._] FIRST SENATOR. Speak, good Cominius. Leave nothing out for length, and make us think Rather our state’s defective for requital, Than we to stretch it out. Masters o’ th’ people, We do request your kindest ears and, after, Your loving motion toward the common body To yield what passes here. SICINIUS. We are convented Upon a pleasing treaty and have hearts Inclinable to honour and advance The theme of our assembly. BRUTUS. Which the rather We shall be blest to do if he remember A kinder value of the people than He hath hereto prized them at. MENENIUS. That’s off, that’s off! I would you rather had been silent. Please you To hear Cominius speak? BRUTUS. Most willingly. But yet my caution was more pertinent Than the rebuke you give it. MENENIUS. He loves your people, But tie him not to be their bedfellow.— Worthy Cominius, speak. [_Coriolanus rises, and offers to go away._] Nay, keep your place. FIRST SENATOR. Sit, Coriolanus. Never shame to hear What you have nobly done. CORIOLANUS. Your Honours, pardon. I had rather have my wounds to heal again Than hear say how I got them. BRUTUS. Sir, I hope My words disbenched you not? CORIOLANUS. No, sir. Yet oft, When blows have made me stay, I fled from words. You soothed not, therefore hurt not; but your people, I love them as they weigh. MENENIUS. Pray now, sit down. CORIOLANUS. I had rather have one scratch my head i’ th’ sun When the alarum were struck than idly sit To hear my nothings monstered. [_Exit._] MENENIUS. Masters of the people, Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter— That’s thousand to one good one—when you now see He had rather venture all his limbs for honour Than one on’s ears to hear it?—Proceed, Cominius. COMINIUS. I shall lack voice. The deeds of Coriolanus Should not be uttered feebly. It is held That valour is the chiefest virtue and Most dignifies the haver; if it be, The man I speak of cannot in the world Be singly counterpoised. At sixteen years, When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought Beyond the mark of others. Our then dictator, Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight When with his Amazonian chin he drove The bristled lips before him. He bestrid An o’erpressed Roman and i’ th’ Consul’s view Slew three opposers. Tarquin’s self he met And struck him on his knee. In that day’s feats, When he might act the woman in the scene, He proved best man i’ th’ field and for his meed Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age Man-entered thus, he waxed like a sea, And in the brunt of seventeen battles since He lurched all swords of the garland. For this last, Before and in Corioles, let me say, I cannot speak him home. He stopped the flyers And by his rare example made the coward Turn terror into sport. As weeds before A vessel under sail, so men obeyed And fell below his stem. His sword, Death’s stamp, Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot He was a thing of blood, whose every motion Was timed with dying cries. Alone he entered The mortal gate o’ th’ city, which he painted With shunless destiny; aidless came off And with a sudden reinforcement struck Corioles like a planet. Now all’s his, When by and by the din of war gan pierce His ready sense; then straight his doubled spirit Requickened what in flesh was fatigate, And to the battle came he, where he did Run reeking o’er the lives of men as if ’Twere a perpetual spoil; and till we called Both field and city ours, he never stood To ease his breast with panting. MENENIUS. Worthy man! FIRST SENATOR. He cannot but with measure fit the honours Which we devise him. COMINIUS. Our spoils he kicked at; And looked upon things precious as they were The common muck of the world. He covets less Than misery itself would give, rewards His deeds with doing them, and is content To spend the time to end it. MENENIUS. He’s right noble. Let him be called for. FIRST SENATOR. Call Coriolanus. OFFICER. He doth appear. Enter Coriolanus. MENENIUS. The Senate, Coriolanus, are well pleased To make thee consul. CORIOLANUS. I do owe them still My life and services. MENENIUS. It then remains That you do speak to the people. CORIOLANUS. I do beseech you Let me o’erleap that custom, for I cannot Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them For my wounds’ sake to give their suffrage. Please you That I may pass this doing. SICINIUS. Sir, the people Must have their voices; neither will they bate One jot of ceremony. MENENIUS. Put them not to’t. Pray you, go fit you to the custom, and Take to you, as your predecessors have, Your honour with your form. CORIOLANUS. It is a part That I shall blush in acting, and might well Be taken from the people. BRUTUS. Mark you that? CORIOLANUS. To brag unto them, “thus I did, and thus!” Show them th’ unaching scars which I should hide, As if I had received them for the hire Of their breath only! MENENIUS. Do not stand upon’t.— We recommend to you, tribunes of the people, Our purpose to them, and to our noble consul Wish we all joy and honour. SENATORS. To Coriolanus come all joy and honour! [_Flourish cornets. Exeunt all but Sicinius and Brutus._] BRUTUS. You see how he intends to use the people. SICINIUS. May they perceive’s intent! He will require them As if he did contemn what he requested Should be in them to give. BRUTUS. Come, we’ll inform them Of our proceedings here. On th’ marketplace I know they do attend us. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. Rome. The Forum Enter seven or eight Citizens. FIRST CITIZEN. Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him. SECOND CITIZEN. We may, sir, if we will. THIRD CITIZEN. We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a power that we have no power to do; for, if he show us his wounds and tell us his deeds, we are to put our tongues into those wounds and speak for them. So, if he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is monstrous, and for the multitude to be ingrateful were to make a monster of the multitude, of the which we being members, should bring ourselves to be monstrous members. FIRST CITIZEN. And to make us no better thought of, a little help will serve; for once we stood up about the corn, he himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude. THIRD CITIZEN. We have been called so of many; not that our heads are some brown, some black, some auburn, some bald, but that our wits are so diversely coloured; and truly I think if all our wits were to issue out of one skull, they would fly east, west, north, south, and their consent of one direct way should be at once to all the points o’ th’ compass. SECOND CITIZEN. Think you so? Which way do you judge my wit would fly? THIRD CITIZEN. Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another man’s will; ’tis strongly wedged up in a blockhead. But if it were at liberty, ’twould, sure, southward. SECOND CITIZEN. Why that way? THIRD CITIZEN. To lose itself in a fog, where being three parts melted away with rotten dews, the fourth would return for conscience’ sake, to help to get thee a wife. SECOND CITIZEN. You are never without your tricks. You may, you may. THIRD CITIZEN. Are you all resolved to give your voices? But that’s no matter; the greater part carries it. I say, if he would incline to the people, there was never a worthier man. Enter Coriolanus in a gown of humility, with Menenius. Here he comes, and in the gown of humility. Mark his behaviour. We are not to stay all together, but to come by him where he stands, by ones, by twos, and by threes. He’s to make his requests by particulars, wherein everyone of us has a single honour in giving him our own voices with our own tongues. Therefore follow me, and I’ll direct you how you shall go by him. ALL. Content, content. [_Exeunt._] MENENIUS. O sir, you are not right. Have you not known The worthiest men have done’t? CORIOLANUS. What must I say? “I pray, sir”—plague upon’t! I cannot bring My tongue to such a pace. “Look, sir, my wounds! I got them in my country’s service when Some certain of your brethren roared and ran From th’ noise of our own drums.” MENENIUS. O me, the gods! You must not speak of that. You must desire them To think upon you. CORIOLANUS. Think upon me! Hang ’em! I would they would forget me, like the virtues Which our divines lose by ’em. MENENIUS. You’ll mar all. I’ll leave you. Pray you speak to ’em, I pray you, In wholesome manner. [_Exit Menenius._] CORIOLANUS. Bid them wash their faces And keep their teeth clean. Enter three of the Citizens. So, here comes a brace. You know the cause, sirs, of my standing here. THIRD CITIZEN. We do, sir. Tell us what hath brought you to’t. CORIOLANUS. Mine own desert. SECOND CITIZEN. Your own desert? CORIOLANUS. Ay, but not mine own desire. THIRD CITIZEN. How, not your own desire? CORIOLANUS. No, sir, ’twas never my desire yet to trouble the poor with begging. THIRD CITIZEN. You must think if we give you anything, we hope to gain by you. CORIOLANUS. Well then, I pray, your price o’ th’ consulship? FIRST CITIZEN. The price is to ask it kindly. CORIOLANUS. Kindly, sir, I pray, let me ha’t. I have wounds to show you, which shall be yours in private.—Your good voice, sir. What say you? SECOND CITIZEN. You shall ha’ it, worthy sir. CORIOLANUS. A match, sir. There’s in all two worthy voices begged. I have your alms. Adieu. THIRD CITIZEN. But this is something odd. SECOND CITIZEN. An ’twere to give again—but ’tis no matter. [_Exeunt two citizens._] Enter two other Citizens. CORIOLANUS. Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your voices that I may be consul, I have here the customary gown. FOURTH CITIZEN. You have deserved nobly of your country, and you have not deserved nobly. CORIOLANUS. Your enigma? FOURTH CITIZEN. You have been a scourge to her enemies; you have been a rod to her friends. You have not indeed loved the common people. CORIOLANUS. You should account me the more virtuous that I have not been common in my love. I will, sir, flatter my sworn brother, the people, to earn a dearer estimation of them; ’tis a condition they account gentle. And since the wisdom of their choice is rather to have my hat than my heart, I will practise the insinuating nod and be off to them most counterfeitly. That is, sir, I will counterfeit the bewitchment of some popular man and give it bountiful to the desirers. Therefore, beseech you, I may be consul. FIFTH CITIZEN. We hope to find you our friend, and therefore give you our voices heartily. FOURTH CITIZEN. You have received many wounds for your country. CORIOLANUS. I will not seal your knowledge with showing them. I will make much of your voices and so trouble you no farther. BOTH CITIZENS. The gods give you joy, sir, heartily. [_Exeunt citizens._] CORIOLANUS. Most sweet voices! Better it is to die, better to starve, Than crave the hire which first we do deserve. Why in this wolvish toge should I stand here To beg of Hob and Dick that does appear Their needless vouches? Custom calls me to’t. What custom wills, in all things should we do’t? The dust on antique time would lie unswept And mountainous error be too highly heaped For truth to o’erpeer. Rather than fool it so, Let the high office and the honour go To one that would do thus. I am half through; The one part suffered, the other will I do. Enter three Citizens more.