For half a hundred years.-Summon the town. Within this mile and half. -Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls? 1 Sen. No, nor a man that fears you less than he, That's lesser than a little. Hark, our drums [Alarums afar off. [Other alarums. Mar They do dist, in us much beyond our thoughts, He that retires, I'll take him for a Volce, Alarum, and exeunt Romans and Volces fighting. The Who, sensible, outdares his senseless sword, Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier Only in strokes; but, with thy gram looks, and The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds, Re-enter Marcius bleeding, assaulted by the enemy. Lart. 'Tis Marcius: Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike. [They fight, and all enter the city. SCENE V-Within the Town. A Street. Enter certain Romans, with spoils. 1 Rom. This will I carry to Rome. 2 Rom. And I this. 3 Rom. A murrain on't! I took this for silver. Enter Marcius, and Titus Lartius, with a trumpet. And hark, what noise the general makes !-To him ;- Worthy sir, thou bleed'st; Mar. All the contagion of the south light on you, Plaster you o'er; that you may be abhorr'd Another Alarum. The Volces and Romans re-enter, A second course of fight. Mar. To Aufidius thus I will appear, and fight. Lart. Now the fair goddess, Fortune, Mar. Where they shall know our mind; Away. [Exeunt. SCENE VI-Near the Camp of Cominius. Enter Cominius and Forces, retreating. Com. Breathe you, my friends; well fought. We are come off Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, We shall be charg'd again. Whiles we have struck, That both our pow'rs, with smiling fronts encountering, Enter a Messenger. May give you thankful sacrifice!-Thy news! Com. Mes. Above an hour, my lord. Com. "Tis not a mile: Briefly, we heard their drums: How could'st thou in a mile confound an hour, And bring thy news so late? Mes. Spies of the Volces Held me in chase, that I was forc'd to wheel 'Three or four miles about; else had I, sir, Half an hour since brought my report. Enter Marcius. Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? Where is he? Cail him hither, Let him alone; Mar. He did inform the truth: But for our gentlemen, The common file, (A plague!-tribunes for them!) The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat, as they did budge From rascals worse than they. Com. But how prevail'd you? Mar. Will the time serve to tell? I do not thinkWhere is the enemy? Are you lords o' the field? If not, why cease you till you are so? Com. Marcins, we have at disadvantage fought, And did retire to win our purpose. Mar. How lies their battle? Know you on which side They have plae'd their men of trust? And follow Marcius. [They all shout, and wave their swords; take him O me, alone! Make you a sword of me? Com. March on, my fellows; Make good this ostentation, and you shall Divide in all with us. [Exeunt SCENE VII-The Gates of Corioli. Titus Lartis, having set a Guard upon Corioli, going with a Drum and Trumpet toward Cominius and Caius Marcius, enters with a Lieutenant, a party of Soldiers, and s Halloo me like a hare. Mar. Within these three hours, Tullus, Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, And made what work I pleas'd: 'Tis not my blood, Wherein thou seest me mask'd; for thy revenge, Wrench up thy power to the highest." Auf. Wert thou the Hector, That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny, Thou should'st not seape me here.— [They fight, and certain Volces come to the aid of Aufidius. Officious, and not valiant-you have sham'd me In your condemned seconds. [Exeunt fighting, driven in by Marcius. SCENE IX-The Roman Camp. Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter at one side, Cominius, and Romans; at the other side, Marcins, with his arm in a scarf, and other Romans Com. If I should tell thec o'er this thy day's work, That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours, Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast, Having fully din'd before. Mar. May these same instruments, which you pro fane, Never sound more! when drums and trumpets shall As if I lov'd, my little should be dieted Com. 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 incens'd, 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 Marcius 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 Corioli, call him, With all the applause and clamour of the host, CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS.Bear the addition nobly ever! [Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums. All. Caius Marcius Coriolanus! Cor. I will go wash; And when my face is fair, you shall perceive Whether I blush, or no: Howbeit, I thank you. Enter Titus Lartius, with his Power, from the pursuit. I mean to stride your steed; and, at all times, Lart. O general, The grave of your deserving; Rome must know To undercrest your good addition, Coni. Take it: 'tis yours.-What is't? Com. By Jupiter, forgot : Being a Volce, be that I am.-Condition! What good condition can a treaty find I' the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius, If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, He is 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. at your pleasures; at the least, if you take it as a picasure to you, in being so. You blame Marcius for be ing proud? Bru. We do it not alone, sir. Men. 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 infant-like, for doing much alone. You talk of pride: 0, that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O, that you could! Bru. What then, sir? Men. Why, then you should discover a brace of un Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle: My valour's meriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates, (alias, fools,) poison'd, With only suffering stain by him; for him Wash my fierce hand in his heart. Goyou to the city; 1 Sol. Will not you go? Auf. 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. 1 Sol. I shall, sir. ACT II. [Exeunt. Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor, that you two have not in abundance? Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all. Sic. Especially, in pride. Bru. And topping all others in boasting. Men. This is strange now: Do you two know how you are censured here in the city, I mean of us o' the right-hand file? Do you? Both Trib. Why, how are we censur'd? Men. Because you talk of pride now,-Will you not be angry? Both Trib. Well, well, sir, well. Men. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience: give your disposition the reins, and be angry as any in Rome. Sic. Menenius. you are known well enough too. Men. I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of al laying Tyber 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 wal ice in my breath: Meeting two such weals-men as you are, (I cannot call you Lycurguses.) if the drink you gave 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 is compound with the major part of your syllables: and though I must be content to bear with those that say you are rever end 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 barn: can your bisson conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too? Bru. Come, sir, come, we know you well enough. Men. You know neither me, yourselves, nor any thing. 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 fosset seller; and then rejourn the controversy of three-pence to a second day of audience.-When you are hearings 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 intangled by your hearing: all the peace you make in their cause, is, calling both the parties knaves: You are a pair of strange ones. Bru. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table, than a necessary bencher in the capitol. Men. 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 stuif a botcher's cushion, or to be entombed in an ass's pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marciós is proud; who, in a cheapes timation, is worth all your predecessors, since Deuca lion; though, peradventure, some of the best of them were hereditary hangmen. Good e'en to your wor ships; more of your conversation would infeet my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians; I will be bold to take my leave of you. [Brutus and Sicinius retire to the back of the scene. Enter Volumnia. Virgilia, and Valeria, How now, my as fair as noble ladies, (and the moon, were she earthly, no nobler,) whither do your eyes so fast? you follow Fol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius ap- In honour follows, Coriolanus:proaches; for the love of Juno, let's go. Men. Ha! Marcius coming home? Vel. Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosper ous approbation. Men. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee:Hoo! Marcius coming home! Two Ladies. Nay, 'tis true. Vol. Look, here's a letter from him; the state hath another, his wife another; and, I think, there's one at ho ac for you. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! [Flourish. You have, I know, petition'd all the gods [Kneels Men. I will make my very house reel to-night:-A| By deed-achieving honour newly nam’d, letter for me? Vir. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw it. Men. A letter for me? It gives me an estate of sev en 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. Vir. O, no, no, no. Vol. O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't. Men. So do I too, if it be not too much :-Brings 'a victory in his pocket?-The wounds become him. Vol. On's brows, Menenius: he comes the third time home with the oaken garland. Men. Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly? What is it? Coriolanus must I call thee? My gracious silence, hail! Vol. Titus Lartius writes,-they fought together, || That is not glad to see thee!-You are three, Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that: an he had staid by him, I would not have been so fidiused for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold that's in thern. Is the senate possessed of this? Vol. 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. Val. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him. Men. Wondrous? ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing. Vir. The gods grant them true! Vol. True? pow, wow. Men. True? I'll be sworn they are true:-Where is he wounded?--God save your good worships! [To the Tribunes, who come forward.] Marcius is coming home: he has more cause to be proud.—Where is he wounded? Vol. I'the shoulder, and i'the 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'the body. Men. One in the neck, and two in the thigh,—there's nine that I know. Vol. He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five wounds upon him. Men. Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave: [A shout, and flourish.] Hark! the trumpets! Vol. These are the ushers of Marcius: before him Her. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith of men, Com. Ever right. Cor. Menenius, ever, ever. yours Your hand, and I have lived Com. On, to the capitol While she chats him: the kitchen malkin pins |