« AnteriorContinuar »
Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand; And thus far having stretch'd it (here be with them), Thy knee bussing the stones (for in such business Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant More learned than the ears), waving thy head, Which often thus, correcting thy stout heart, That humble, as the ripest mulberry, Now will not hold the handling: Or, say to them, Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils, Hast not the soft way, which, thou dost confess, Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim, In asking their good loves; but thou wilt frame Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far As thou hast power, and person.
VOLUMNIA'S RESOLUTION ON THE PRIDE OF CORIOLANUS.
To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour,
Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it from me;
CORIOLANUS'S DETESTATION OF THE VULGAR.
You common cry* of curs! whose breath I hate
That do corrupt my air, I banish you;
LET me twine
Mine arms about that body, where against
As hotly and as nobly with thy love,
Contend against thy valour. Know thou first,
Sigh'd truer breath; but that I see thee here,
* Pack. ↑ Vapour. Subdued § Embrace. || Arm. ¶ Full.
Cor. Which is his house, 'beseech you?
Cor. Thank you, sir; farewell.
O, world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn,
On a dissension of a doit*, break out
Whose passions and whose plots have broke their
To take the one the other, by some chance,
PRECEPTS AGAINST ILL FORTUNE.
You were us'd
To say, extremity was the trier of spirits;
That common chances common men could bear;
Show'd mastership in floating: fortune's blows, When most struck home, being gentle wounded,
A noble cunning: you were us'd to load me
CORIOLANUS'S PRAYER FOR HIS SON.
THE god of soldiers,
With the consent of supreme Jove, inform
My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mould Wherein this trunk was fram'd, and in her hand The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affection! All bond and privilege of nature, break!
Let it be virtuous, to be obstinate.
What is that curt'sey worth; or those doves' eyes,
In supplication nod: and my young boy
Great nature cries, Deny not,-Let the Volsces
Be such a gosling† to obey instinct; but stand,
And knew no other kin.
* Gust, storm.
* A young goose.
THE SEASON OF SOLICITATION.
He was not taken well; he had not din'd: The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then We pout upon the morning, are unapt
To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd
Like a dull actor now,
I have forgot my part, and I am out,
The noble sister of Publicola,
The moon of Rome; chaste as the icicle,
VOLUMNIA'S PATHETIC SPEECH TO HER SON CORIOLANUS.
Think with thyself,
How more unfortunate than all living women