Though calv'd i' the porch o' the Capitol.)

1st Patrician. This man has marr'd his fortune. Menenius. His nature is too noble for the world;

He would not flatter Neptune for his trident

(Exit)

Or Jove for his power to thunder. His heart's his mouth;
What his breath forges, that his tongue must vent;
And, being angry, does forget that ever

He heard the name of death.

Menenius. Consider this;-He has been bred i' the wars Since he could draw a sword, and is ill-school'd

In boulted language; meal and bran together

He throws without distinction.-Id.

Coriolanus. Let them pull all about mine ears; present

me

Death on the wheel, or at wild horses' heels;
Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock,
That the precipitation might down stretch
Below the beam of sight, yet will I still
Be thus to them

Volumnia.

O! sir, sir, sir,

I would have had you put your power well on,
Before you had worn it out

Pray be counsell'd:

I have a heart as little apt as yours,

But yet a brain, that leads my use of anger,
To better vantage

I pr'ythee, now, my son,
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,
Now bumble, as the ripest mulberry,

That 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.

This but done

Menenius.
Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours:
For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free

Pr'ythee, now,

Go and be rul'd: although, I know, thou had'st rather
Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf,

Than flatter him in a bower. Here is Cominius. (Enter
COMINIUS.)

Cominius. I have been i' the market-place; and, sir, 'tis fit You make strong party, or defend yourself By calmness, or by absence; all's in anger. Menenius. Only fair speech.

Cominius. I think 'twill serve, if he

Can thereto frame his spirit.

Volumnia.

He must and will:-
:-

Pr'ythee, now, say you will, and go about it.

Coriolanus. Must I go show them my unbarb'd sconce ? Must I,

With

my base tongue, give to my noble heart A lie, that it must bear? Well, I will do't:

Yet, were there but this single plot to lose,

This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grind it,
And throw it against the wind.-To the market-place :-
You have put me now to such a part, which never

I shall discharge to the life.

Cominius. Come, come, we'll prompt you.

Volumnia. I pr'ythee now, sweet son; as thou hast said, My praises made thee first a soldier, so,

To have my praise for this, perform a part

Thou hast not done before.

Away, my disposition, and possess me

Some harlot's spirit! My throat of war be turn'd,
Which quired with my drum, into a pipe

Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice

That babies lulls asleep! The smiles of knaves

Tent in my cheeks; and schoolboy's tears take up

The glasses of my sight! a beggar's tongue

Make motion through my lips; and my arm'd knees,
Who bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his

That hath receiv'd an alms!—I will not do't:
Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth,
And by my body's action teach my mind
A most inherent baseness.-Sc. 2.

Sicinius. We charge you, that you have contriv'd to take From Rome all season'd office, and to wind

Yourself into a power tyrannical:

For which, you are a traitor to the people.
Coriolanus. How! Traitor?

Menenius. Nay; temperately; your promise.

Coriolanus. The fires i' the lowest hell fold in the people! Call me their traitor !-Thou injurious tribune; Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, In thy hands clutch'd as many millions, in Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say, Thou liest, unto thee, with a voice as free As I do pray the gods.

Menenius. Is this

The promise that you made your mother?
Cominius.

I pray you,

Know,

Coriolanus. I'll know no further:

Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death,
Vagabond exile, flaying; pent to linger
But with a grain a day; I would not buy
Their mercy at the price of one fair word;
Nor check my courage for what they can give,

To have't with saying, Good morrow.

Brutus. There's no more to be said, but he is banish'd, As enemy to the people, and his country:

It shall be so.

Citizens. It shall be so, it shall be so.

Coriolanus. You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize

As the dead carcases of unburied men

That do corrupt my air, I banish you;
And here remain with your uncertainty!
Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts!
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,
Fan you into despair! Have the power still
To banish your defenders; till at length,
Your ignorance (which finds not till it feels),
Making but reservation of yourselves
(Still your own foes), deliver you, as most
Abated captives, to some nation

That won you without blows! Despising,

For you,

the city, thus I turn my back:

There is a world elsewhere. (Exeunt CORIOLANUS, COMINIUS, MENENIUS, Senators, and Patricians.)-Sc. 3.

Coriolanus. Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and

My friends of noble touch, when I am forth,
Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come.
While I remain above the ground, you shall
Hear from me still; and never of me aught
But what is like me formerly.-Act 4. Sc. 1.
Aufidius. Say, what's thy name?

Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face
Bears a command in't; though thy tackle's torn,
Thou show'st a noble vessel: What's thy name?

Coriolanus. Prepare thy brow to frown: know'st thou me yet?
Aufidius. I know thee not: Thy name?

Coriolanus. My name is Caius Marcius.-(Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS.)

1st Servant (advancing). Here's a strange alteration! 2nd Servant. By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with a cudgel; and yet my mind gave me, his clothes made a false report of him.

1st Servant. What an arm he has ! he turned me about with his finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top.

2nd Servant. Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in him: He had, sir, a kind of face, methought,-I cannot tell how to term it. Why, then we shall have a stirring world again. This peace is nothing, but to rust iron, increase tailors, and breed ballad-makers.

....

1st Servant. Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace, as far as day does night; it is sprightly, waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more bastard children, than wars a destroyer of men.-Sc. 5.

Menenius.

I'll undertake it:

I think, he'll hear me. Yet to bite his lip,

And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me.
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
These pipes and these conveyances of our blood
With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls

Than in our priest-like fasts: therefore I'll watch him
Till he be dieted to my request,

And then I'll set upon him.

Brutus. You know the very road into his kindness, And cannot lose your way.

Menenius.

Good faith, I'll prove him,

Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge
Of my success.—(Exit).

Cominius. He'll never hear him.

Cominius. I tell you, he does sit in gold; his eye
Red as 'twould burn Rome; and his injury
The gaoler to his pity. I kneel'd before him;
'Twas very faintly he said, Rise; dismiss'd me
Thus, with his speechless hand: What he would do,
He sent in writing after me; what he would not,
Bound with an oath, to yield to his conditions:
So, that all hope is vain,

Unless his noble mother, and his wife;

Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him

For mercy to his country. Therefore, let's hence,
And with our fair entreaties haste them on.-Act 5. Sc. 1.
1st Guard. You are a Roman, are you?

Menenius. I am as thy general is.

1st Guard. Then you should hate Rome as he does. Can you, when you have pushed out your gates the very defender of them, and, in a violent popular ignorance, given your enemy your shield, think to front his revenges with the easy groans of old women, the virginal palms of your daughters, or with the palsied intercession of such a decayed dotant as you seem to be? Can you think to blow out the intended fire your city is ready to flame in, with such weak breath as this? No, you are deceived; therefore, back to Rome, and prepare for your execution: you are condemned, our general has sworn you out of reprieve and pardon.-Sc. 2.

Coriolanus.

Fresh embassies, and suits, Nor from the state, nor private friends, hereafter

Will I lend ear to.-Ha! what shout is this? (Shout within.) Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow

In the same time 'tis made? I will not.-(Enter, in mourning habits, VIRGILIA, VOLUMNIA, leading young MARCIUS, VALERIA, and attendants.)

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'sy worth; or those doves' eyes,
Which can make gods forsworn ?—I melt, and am not
Of stronger earth than others.-My mother bows;