Cor. Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs || In supplication nod: and my young boy In Volscian breasts. That we have been familiar, [Gives a letter. [Exeunt Coriolanus and Aufidius. 1 G. Now, sir, is your name Menenius? 2 G. 'Tis a spell, you see, of much power: You know the way home again. 1 G. Do you hear how we are shent2 for keeping your greatness back? Hath an aspéct of intercession, which Cor. I have forgot my part, and I am out, Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh, Forgive my tyranny; but do not say, For that, Forgive our Romans.-O, a kiss Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge! Now by the jealous queens of heaven, that kiss I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip Hath virgin'd it e'er since.-You gods! I prate, 2 G. What cause, do you think, I have to swoon? And the most noble mother of the world Men. I neither care for the world, nor your gene-Leave unsaluted: Sink, my knee i'the earth; ral: for such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, you are so slight. He that hath a will to die by himself, fears it not from another. Let your general do his worst. For you, be that you are, long; and your misery increase with your age! I say to you, as I was said to, Away! Of thy deep duty more impression show Vol. [Kneels. O, stand up bless'd 1 G. A noble fellow, I warrant him. 2 G. The worthy fellow is our general: He is the rock, the oak not to be wind-shaken. [Exeunt. SCENE III-The tent of Coriolanus. Enter Coriolanus, Aufidius, and others. Cor. We will before the walls of Rome to-morrow Set down our host.-My partner in this action, You must report to the Volscian lords, how plainly3 I have borne this business. You have respected; stopp'd your ears against Cor. This last old man, Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow Enter in mourning habits, Virgilia, Volumnia, What is that curt'sy worth? or those doves' eyes, not Of stronger earth than others.-My mother bows; (1) Because. (2) Reprimanded. (3) Openly. [Kneels. Cor. Vol. Thou art my warrior; Your knee, sirrah. Cor. That's my brave boy. Cor. world Hear nought from Rome in private.-Your request? | Than can our reasons.-There is no man in the Vol. Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment, And state of bodies, would bewray! what life Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts, Constrains them weep, and shake with fear and sorrow; Making the mother, wife, and child, to see Our wish, which side should win for either thou With manacles thorough our streets, or else Ay, and on mine, That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name Living to time. Boy. I'll run away, till I am bigger, but then I'll fight. Cor. Not of a woman's tenderness to be, Requires nor child nor woman's face to see. I have sat too long. Vol. He shall not tread on me ; [Rising. Nay, go not from us thus. If it were so, that our request did tend To save the Romans, thereby to destroy The Volces whom you serve, you might condemn us, As poisonous of your honour: No; our suit Is, that you reconcile them: while the Volces May say, This mercy we have show'd; the Romans, This we receiv'd; and each in either side Give the all-hail to thee, and cry, Be bless'd For making up this peace! Thou know'st, great son, The end of war's uncertain; but this certain, That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit Which thou shalt thereby reap, 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 remains To the ensuing age, abhorr'd. Speak to me, son: Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour, To imitate the graces of the gods; To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o'the air, And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak? Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man Still to remember wrongs?-Daughter, speak you: He cares not for your weeping.-Speak thou, boy: Perhaps, thy childishness will move him more (1, Betray. (2) Conclude. (3) The refinements. More bound to his mother; yet here he lets me prate Like him by chance:-Yet give us our despatch: Cor. O mother, mother! [Holding Volumnia by the hands, silent. What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, The gods look down, and this unnatural scene They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O! You have won a happy victory to Rome: But, for your son,-believe it, O, believe it, Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd, If not most mortal to him. But, let it come:Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars, I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius, Were you in my stead, say, would you have heard A mother less? or granted less, Aufidius? Auf. I was mov'd withal. Cor. I dare be sworn, you were: And, sir, it is no little thing, to make Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir, What peace you'll make, advise me: For my part, I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and pray you, Stand to me in this cause.-O mother! wife! Auf. I am glad, thou hast set thy mercy and thy honour At difference in thee: out of that I'll work Cor. [Aside. [The Ladies make signs to Coriolanus. Ay, by and by; [To Volumnia, Virgilia, &c. But we will drink together; and you shall bear A better witness back than words, which we, On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd. Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve To have a temple built you: all the swords In Italy, and her confederate arms, Could not have made this peace. [Exeunt. Sic. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter the condition of a man? Men. There is differency between a grub, and a butterfly; yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown from man to dragon: he has wings; he's more than a creeping thing. Sic. He loved his mother dearly. Men. So did he me: and he no more remembers his mother now, than an eight year old horse. The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes. When he walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground shrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corslet with his eye; talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He sits in his state, as a thing made?| for Alexander. What he bids be done, is finished with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but eternity, and a heaven to throne in. Sic. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly. Men. I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his mother shall bring from him: There is no more mercy in him, than there is milk in a male tiger; that shall our poor city find: and all this is 'long of you. Enter the Ladies, accompanied by Senators, Patri cians, and People. They pass over the stage. 1 Sen. Behold our patroness, the life of Rome: Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius, SCENE V-Antium. A public place. Enter Auf. Go tell the lords of the city, I am here: Deliver them this paper: having read it, Bid them repair to the market-place; where I, Even in theirs and in the commons' ears, Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse, Men. No, in such a case the gods will not be The city-ports by this hath enter'd, and good unto us. When we banished him, we respect-Intends to appear before the people, hoping ed not them: and, he returning to break our necks, To purge himself with words: Despatch. they respect not us. Sic. The gods be good unto us! Enter a Messenger. Mess. Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to your The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune, Enter another Messenger. Sic. The Volces are dislodg'd, and Marcius gone: Friend, Sic. you; [Trumpets and hautboys sounded, and drums beaten, all together. Shouting also within. The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes, Tabors, and cymbals, and the shouting Romans, Make the sun dance. Hark you! [Shouting again. Accept my thankfulness. Sir, we have all [Exeunt Attendants. Enter three or four Conspirators of Aufidius's faction. Most welcome! 1 Con. How is it with our general? Even so, 2 Con. Most noble sir, 3 Con. The people will remain uncertain, whilst 1 Con. (6) Thought me rewarded with good looks For no less spoil, than glory,Auf. (I say, your city,) to his wife and mother: For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him. [Drums and trumpets sound, with great 1 Con. Your native town you enter'd like a post, And had no welcomes home; but he returns, Splitting the air with noise. 2 Con. And patient fools, Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear, With giving him glory. 3 Con. Therefore, at your vantage, Ere he express himself, or move the people With what he would say, let him feel your sword, Which we will second. When he lies along, After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury His reasons with his body. Say no more; Auf Here come the lords. Cor. Hear'st thou, Mars? Auf Name not the god, thou boy of tears,- Cor. Auf. No more.5 Ha! Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave!Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever I was forc'd to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords, Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion My beating to his grave;) shall join to thrust 1 Lord. Peace, both, and hear me speak. Auf. Why, noble lords, Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, it.'Fore your own eyes and ears? Con. Let him die for't. [Several speak at once. Cit. [Speaking promiscuously.] Tear him to pieces, do it presently. He killed my son ;-my daughter;-He killed my cousin Marcus;-He killed my father.— 2 Lord. Peace, ho;-no outrage:-peace. The man is noble, and his fame folds in a This orb o'the earth. His last offence to us Shall have judicious hearing.-Stand, Aufidius, And trouble not the peace. Cor. Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier; No more infected with my country's love, Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting Under your great command. You are to know, That prosperously I have attempted, and With bloody passage, led your wars, even to The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought| Cor. Insolent villain! [Aufidius and the Conspirators draw, and kill Coriolanus, who falls, and Aufidius stands on him. Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold. Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak. 1 Lord. O Tullus,2 Lord. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep. 3 Lord. Tread not upon him.-Masters all, be quiet; Put up your swords. Auf. My lords, when you shall know (as in this And I am struck with sorrow.-Take him up: The tragedy of Coriolanus is one of the most amusing of our author's performances. The old man's merriment in Menenius; the lofty lady's dignity in Volumnia; the bridal modesty in Virgilia; the patrician and military haughtiness in Coriola Help, three of the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.-nus; the plebeian malignity and tribunitian inso Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully: (1) Memorial. lence in Brutus and Sicinius, make a very pleasing and interesting variety; and the various revolutions of the hero's fortune, fill the mind with anxious curiosity. There is, perhaps, too much bustle in the first act, and too little in the last. JOHNSON. |