Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner | This boy, that cannot tell what he would have, March to assault thy country, than to tread, But kneels, and holds up hands, for fellowship, (Trust to't, thou shalt not,) on thy mother's Does reason our petition with more strength That brought thee to this world. [womb, Than thou hast to deny't.-Come, let us go: Ay, and on mine, This fellow had a Volcian to his mother; That brought you forth this boy, to keep your His wife is in Corioli, and his child Living to time. [name Like him by chance:-Yet give us our des Boy. He shall not tread on me; I am hush'd until our city be afire, [patch: I'll run away, till I am bigger, but then I'll And then I'll speak a little. Cor. Not of a woman's tenderness to be, [fight. Requires nor child nor woman's face to see. I have sat too long. [Rising. Vol. 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 con- demn 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 received; 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 wiped it out; Destroy'd his country; and his name re mains
[me, son: Speak to of honour,
To the ensuing age, abhorr'd. Thou hast affected the fine strains 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 [boy: He cares not for your weeping-Speak thou, Perhaps, thy childishness will move him more Than can our reasons.-There is no man in the world
More bound to his mother; yet here he lets Like one i' the stocks. Thou hast never in thy Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy; [life When she (poor hen!) fond of no second brood, Has cluck'd thee to the wars, and safely home, Loaden with honour. Say, my request's un- And spurn me back: But, if it be not so, [just, Thou art not honest; and the gods will plague thee,
That thou restrain'st from me the duty, which To a mother's part belongs.-He turns away: Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees,
To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride, Than pity to our prayers, Down; an end: This is the last;-So we will home to Rome, And die among our neighbours.-Nay, behold
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 Au- fidius, [heard Were you in my stead, say, would you have A mother less? or granted less, Aufidius? Auf. I was moved withal.
Cor. I dare be sworn you were: And, sir, it is no little thing, to make [sir, Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good What peace you'll make, advise me: For my part,
[you, I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and pray 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 Myself a former fortune.
[Aside. [The Ladies make signs to CORIOLANUS. Cor. 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.
SCENE IV. Rome. A Public Place. Enter MENENIUS and SICINIUS. Men. See you yond' coign+ o'the Capitol: yond' corner stone?
Sic. Why, what of that?
Men. If it be possible for you to displace it with your little finger, there is some hope the ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. But I say, there is no hope in't; our throats are sentenced, and stay upon execution.
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 re- Stay but for it.
members 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.
Sic. The gods be good unto us!
Men. No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us. When we banished him, we respected not them; and he returning to break our necks, they respect not us.
Mess. Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to
The plebeians have got your fellow tribune, And hale him up and down; all swearing, if The Roman ladies bring not comfort home, They'll give him death by inches.
Enter another Messenger.
Sic. What's the news? Mess. Good news, good news;-The ladies have prevail'd,
The Volces are dislodged, and Marcius gone: A merrier day did never yet greet Rome, No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins. Sic. Friend, Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain? Mess. As certain as I know the sun is fire: Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt
Ne'er through an arch so hurried the As the recomforted through the gates.
[Trumpets and Hautboys sounded, and Drums beaten, all together. Shout ing also within.
The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes, Tabors, and cymbals, and the shouting Ro- Make the sun dance. Hark you! [mans, [Shouting again. Men. This is good news: I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians, A city full; of tribunes, such as you, [to-day; A sea and land full: You have prayed well This morning, for ten thousand of your throats, I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy! [Shouting and Music. Sic. First, the gods bless you for your tid- Accept my thankfulness. [ings; next, Mess. Sir, we have all Great cause to give great thanks. Sic. They are near the city? Mess. Almost at point to enter. Sic.
We will meet them, [Going.
+ To resemble.
[A Flourish with Drums and Trumpets. [Exeunt, SCENE V. Antium. A Public Place. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, with Attendants. 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 commous' ears, Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse, The city ports by this hath enter'd, and Intends to appear before the people, hoping To purge himself with words: Despatch. [Exeunt Attendants. Enter three or four Conspirators of Aufi dius' Faction.
Most noble sir, If you do hold the same intent wherein You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you Of your great danger. Auf.
We must proceed, as we do find the people. Sir, I cannot tell; 3 Con. The people will remain uncertain, Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of [either Makes the survivor heir of all. Auf. And my pretext to strike at him admits I know it; A good construction. I raised him, and I pawn'd Mine honour for his truth: Who being so [heightened, He water'd his new plants with dews of flat- Seducing so my friends: and to this end, [tery, He bow'd his nature, never known before But to be rough, unswayable, and free.
3 Con. Sir, his stoutness, When he did stand for consul, which he lost By lack of stooping,-
Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth; Auf. That I would have spoke of: Presented to my knife his throat: I took him; Made him joint-servant with me; gave him way In all his own desires: nay, let him choose Out of my files his projects to accomplish,[ments My best and freshest men; served his design. In mine own person; holp to reap the fame, Which he did end all his; and took some To do myself this wrong: till, at the last. [pride I seem'd his follower, not partner; and Gates.
He waged me with his countenance*, as if
I had been mercenary. 1 Con. So he did, my lord: The army marvell'd at it. And, in the last, When he had carried Rome; and that we # For no less spoil than glory,- [look'd Auf. There was it:- For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him.
At a few drops of women's rheum t, which are As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour Of our great action: Therefore shall he die, And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark!
[Drums and Trumpets sound, with great shouts of the People.
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 With giving him glory.
[tear, 3 Con. Therefore, at your vantage, Ere he express himself, or move the people With what he would say, let him feel your
Which we will second. When he lies along, After your way his tale pronounced shall bury His reasons with his body. Auf.
Here come the Lords.
Enter the Lords of the City. Lords. You are most welcome home. Auf. I have not deserved it. But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused What I have written to you?
1 Lord. And grieve to hear it. What faults he made before the last, I think, Might have found easy fines: but there to end, Where he was to begin; and give away The benefit of our levies, answering us With our own charge; making a treaty where There was a yielding; this admits no excuse. Auf. He approaches, you shall hear him. Enter CORIOLANUS, with Drums and Co- lours; a Crowd of Citizens with him. Cor. Hail, lords! I am returned 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
Do more than counterpoise, a full third part, The charges of the action. We have made With no less honour to the Antiates, [peace, Than shame to the Romans: And we here de- liver,
Subscribed by the consuls and patricians, Together with the seal o'the senate, what We have compounded on. Auf.
Read it not, noble lords;
You lords and heads of the state, perfidiously He has betray'd your business, and given up, For certain drops of salt, your city Rome (I say, your city,) to his wife and mother: Breaking his oath and resolution, like A twist of rotten silk; never admitting. Counsel o'the war; but at his nurse's tears He whined and roared away your victory; That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart Look'd wondering each at other. Cor.
Hear'st thou, Mars? Auf. Name not the god, thou boy of tears,- Cor.
Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my
Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave!
Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever I was forced to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords,
Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion (Who wears my stripes impress'd on him; that must bear
My beating to his grave;) shall join to thrust The lie unto him.
1 Lord. Peace, both, and hear me speak. Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volces; men and lads, [hound! Stain all your edges on me.-Boy! False If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there, That like an eagle in a dovecote, I Flutter'd your Volces in Corioli: Alone I did it.-Boy! Auf. Why, noble lords, Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy brag- 'Fore your own eyes and ears? [gart, 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 This orb o'the earth **. His last offence to us Shall have judicious ++ hearing.-Stand, Aufi- And trouble not the peace. [dius, Cor. O, that I had him, With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, To use my lawful sword! Auf.
Insolent villain ! Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him. [AUFIDIUS and the Conspirators draw, + Tears. People of Antium. ** His fame overspreads the world.
Thought me rewarded with good looks.
I Rewarding us with our own expenses. No more than a boy of tears.
Drops of tears. tt Judicial.
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. [be quiet; 3 Lord. Tread not upon him.-Masters all, Put up your swords. [this rage, Auf. My lords, when you shall know (as in Provoked by him, you cannot,) the great danger
Which this man's life did owe you, you'll re- joice
That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours To call me to your senate, I'll deliver Myself your loyal servant, or endure Your heaviest censure.
The tragedy of CORIOLANUS is one of the most amusing of our author's performance. 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 Coriolanus; the plebeiar malignity and tribuuitian insolence in Brutus and Sicinius, make a very pleasing ard 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.
SCENE I. Rome. A Street. Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and a Rabble of Citizens.
Fla. Hence; home, you idle creatures, get you home;
Is this a holiday? What! know you not, Being mechanical, you ought not walk, Upon a labouring day, without the sign Of your profession ?-Speak, what trade art 1 Cit. Why, sir, a carpenter. [thou? Mar.Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on?- You, sir; what trade are you?
2 Cit. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workI am but, as you would say, a cobbler. [man, Mar. But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.
2 Cit. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soals.
Mar. What trade, thou knave; thou naughty knave, what trade?
2 Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not ont with me: yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend
Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?
2 Cit. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday, to see Cæsar, and to rejoice in his triumph.
Mar. Wheretore rejoice? What conquest brings he home?
What tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels? You blocks, you stones, you worse than sense. less things!
O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and
Your infants in your arms, and there have The live-long day, with patient expectation, To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome: And when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made an universal shout, That Tyber trembled underneath her banks, To hear the replication of your sounds,
Mar. What meanest thou by that? Mend Made in her concave shores? me, thou sancy fellow?
2 Cit. Why, sir, cobble you. Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thou?
2 Cit. Truly, sir, all that I live by is, with the awl: I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neats' leather, have gone upon my handy-work.
And do you now put on your best attire? And do you now cull out a holiday? And do you now strew flowers in his way, That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? Be gone;
Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude. [fault, Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this Assemble all the poor men of your sort *;
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