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your way.

Vol. O! ye're well met. The hoarded plague o' the gods

Requite your love!


Peace, peace! be not so loud. Vol. If that I could for weeping, you should


Nay, and you shall hear some. To BRUTUS.
Will you be gone?

Vir. To SICINIUS. You shall stay too. I
would I had the power
To say so to my husband.


Are you mankind? Vol. Ay, fool; is that a shame? Note but this fool.

Was not a man my father? Hadst thou foxship
To banish him that struck more blows for Rome
Than thou hast spoken words?
O blessed heavens! 20
Vol. More noble blows than ever thou wise


And for Rome's good. I'll tell thee what; yet


Nay, but thou shalt stay too: I would my son
Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him,
His good sword in his hand.

What then?


He'd make an end of thy posterity.

Vol. Bastards and all.

Good man, the wounds that he does bear for


Rom. The same, sir.

Vols. You had more beard when I last saw you; but your favour is well approved by your tongue. What's the news in Rome? I have a note from the Volscian state to find you out there you have well saved me a day's journey.

Rom. There hath been in Rome strange insurrections: the people against the senators, patricians, and nobles.


Vols. Hath been! Is it ended then? Our state thinks not so; they are in a most warlike preparation, and hope to come upon them in the heat of their division.

Rom. The main blaze of it is past, but a small thing would make it flame again. For the nobles receive so to heart the banishment of that worthy Coriolanus, that they are in a ripe aptness to take all power from the people and What then! to pluck from them their tribunes for ever. This lies glowing, I can tell you, and is almost mature for the violent breaking out.

Vols. Coriolanus banished!

Men. Come, come: peace!

Sic. I would he had continu'd to his country As he began, and not unknit himself

The noble knot he made.


Vol. I would he had!'
the rabble:

Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth
As I can of those mysteries which heaven
Will not have earth to know.


Rom. Banished, sir.

Vols. You will be welcome with this intelligence, Nicanor.


Rom. The day serves well for them now. I have heard it said, the fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is when she's fallen out with her husband. Your noble Tullus Aufidius will appear well in these wars, his great opposer, Coriolanus, being now in no request of his country.

Vols. He cannot choose. I am most fortunate thus accidentally to encounter you: you have ended my business, and I will merrily accompany you home.


Rom. I shall, between this and supper, tell you most strange things from Rome; all tending to the good of their adversaries. Have you an army ready, say you?


Vols. A most royal one: the centurions and their charges distinctly billeted, already in the entertainment, and to be on foot at an hour's warning.

Rom. I am joyful to hear of their readiness, and am the man, I think, that shall set them in present action. So, sir, heartily well met, and most glad of your company.

I would he had.
'Twas you incens'd

You have told them home,
And, by my troth, you have cause.
You'll sup
with me?

Vol. Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself, 59
And so shall starve with feeding. Come, let's go.
Leave this faint puling and lament as I do,
In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come.
Men. Fie, fie, fie!



Pray, let us go.
Vol. Now, pray, sir. get you gone:
You have done a brave deed. Ere you
hear this:


As far as doth the Capitol exceed
The meanest house in Rome, so far my son,
This lady's husband here, this, do you see?
Whom you have banish'd, does exceed you all.
Bru. Well, well; we'll leave you.
Why stay we to be baited
With one that wants her wits?


SCENE III.-A Highway between Rome and

Take my prayers with you.
Exeunt Tribunes.
I would the gods had nothing else to do
But to confirm my curses! Could I meet 'em
But once a day, it would unclog my heart
Of what lies heavy to't.

Enter a Roman and a Volsce, meeting.

Rom. I know you well, sir, and you know me: your name I think is Adrian.

Vols. It is so, sir: truly, I have forgot you. Rom. I am a Roman; and my services are, as you are, against 'em. Know you me yet? Vols. Nicanor? No.

Vols. You take my part from me, sir; I have the most cause to be glad of yours.

Rom. Well, let us go together.


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Music within.

Enter a Servingman.

Exit. First Serv. Wine, wine, wine! What service is here! I think our fellows are asleep.

First Serv. And I shall.

Third Serv. Where dwellest thou?

Enter a Second Servingman.
Second Serv. Where 's Cotus? my master calls
for him.

Cor. Under the canopy.

Third Serv. Under the canopy!
Cor. Ay.

Third Serv. Where's that?

Cor. I' the city of kites and crows.

Third Serv. I' the city of kites and crows! What an ass it is! Then thou dwellest with daws too?

Cor. No; I serve not thy master.
Third Serv. How, sir!




my master?


Cor. Ay; 'tis an honester service than to
meddle with thy mistress.
Thou prat'st, and prat'st: serve with thy trencher.
Beats him away.


Do you meddle with

Enter AUFIDIUS and the First Servingman.
Auf. Where is this fellow?

First Serv. Here, sir: I'd have beaten him Auf. Whence comest thou? what would'st like a dog, but for disturbing the lords within. thou? thy name?

Why speak'st not? speak, man: what's thy



Second Serv. Whence are you, sir? Has the porter his eyes in his head, that he gives entrance to such companions? Pray, get you out.

Cor. Unmuffling. If. Tullus,



Not yet thou know'st me, and, seeing me, dost Cor. A goodly house: the feast smells well; Think me for the man I am, necessity Commands me name myself. Appear not like a guest.

but I


Re-enter the First Servingman.

First Serv. What would you have, friend? Exit. Whence are you? Here's no place for you: pray, go to the door.

Cor. I have deserv'd no better entertainment, In being Coriolanus.

Re-enter Second Servingman.

What is thy name? Servants retire. Cor. A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears, And harsh in sound to thine.


Say, what's thy name?
Bears a command in 't; though thy tackle 's
Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face

Thou show'st a noble vessel. What's thy name?
Cor. Prepare thy brow to frown.

thou me yet?

Auf. I know thee not. Thy name?

2 T


Cor. My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done

To thee particularly, and to all the Volsces,
Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may
My surname, Coriolanus: the painful service,
The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood
Shed for my thankless country, are requited
But with that surname; a good memory,
And witness of the malice and displeasure
Which thou should'st bear me: only that name
remains ;


The cruelty and envy of the people,
Permitted by our dastard nobles, who
Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest;
And suffer'd me by the voice of slaves to be
Whoop'd out of Rome. Now this extremity
Hath brought me to thy hearth; not out of

Mistake me not, to save my life; for if
I had fear'd death, of all the men i' the world
I would have 'voided thee; but in mere spite,
To be full quit of those my banishers,
Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast
A heart of wreak in thee, that will revenge
Thine own particular wrongs and stop those

Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee straight,

And make my misery serve thy turn so use it,
That my revengeful services may prove
As benefits to thee, for I will fight
Against my canker'd country with the spleen
Of all the under fiends. But if so be
Thou dar'st not this, and that to prove more



Thou 'rt tir'd, then, in a word, I also am
Longer to live most weary, and present
My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice;
Which not to cut would show thee but a fool,
Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate,
Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast,
And cannot live but to thy shame, unless
It be to do thee service.


O Marcius, Marcius! Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart

A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter

Should from yond cloud speak divine things,
And say "Tis true,' I'd not believe them more
Than thee, all noble Marcius. Let me twine
Mine arms about that body, where against
My grained ash an hundred times hath broke,
And scarr'd the moon with splinters: here I



The anvil of my sword, and do contest
As hotly and as nobly with thy love
As ever in ambitious strength I did
Contend against thy valour. Know thou first,
I lov'd the maid I married; never man
Sigh'd truer breath; but that I see thee here,
Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart
Than when I first my wedded mistress saw
Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I
tell thee,

Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat, And wak'd half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius,

own ways;


Whether to knock against the gates of Rome,
Or rudely visit them in parts remote,
To fright them, ere destroy. But come in:
Let me commend thee first to those that shall
Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes!
And more a friend than e'er an enemy;
Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand:


We have a power on foot; and I had purpose Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn. Or lose mine arm for 't. Thou hast beat me out Twelve several times, and I have nightly since Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me; We have been down together in my sleep, 131

Had we no quarrel else to Rome, but that
Thou art thence banish'd, we would muster all
From twelve to seventy, and pouring war
Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,
Like a bold flood o'er-bear. O! come; go in,
And take our friendly senators by the hands,
Who now are here, taking their leaves of me,
Who am prepar'd against your territories,
Though not for Rome itself.

You bless me, gods!
Auf. Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou
wilt have


The leading of thine own revenges, take
The one half of my commission; and set down,
As best thou art experienc'd, since thou know'st
Thy country's strength and weakness, thine


most welcome!

Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS. First Serv. Here's a strange alteration! Second Serv. 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.

First Serv. What an arm he has! He turned me about with his finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top.


Second Serv. 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.

First Serv. He had so; looking as it were,would I were hanged but I thought there was more in him than I could think.

He is


Second Serv. So did I, I'll be sworn. simply the rarest man i' the world. First Serv. I think he is; but a greater soldier than he you wot on.

Second Serv. Who? my master?

First Serv. Nay, it's no matter for that.

Second Serv. Worth six on him.

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Third Serv. I do not say thwack our general'; | Were in wild hurry. Here do we make his but he was always good enough for him.


Second Serv. Come, we are fellows and friends: he was ever too hard for him; I have heard him say so himself.

First Serv. He was too hard for him directly, to say the truth on 't: before Corioli he scotched him and notched him like a carbonado.


Second Serv. An he had been cannibally given, he might have broiled and eaten him too.

First Serv. But, more of thy news?

Third Serv. Why, he is so made on here within, as if he were son and heir to Mars; set at upper end o' the table; no question asked him by any of the senators, but they stand bald before him. Our general himself makes a mistress of him; sanctifies himself with 's hand, and turns up the white o' the eye to his discourse. But the bottom of the news is, our general is cut i' the middle, and but one half of what he was yesterday, for the other has half, by the entreaty and grant of the whole table. He'll go, he says, and sowl the porter of Rome gates by the ears. He will mow down all before him, and leave his passage polled.

Second Serv. And he's as like to do 't as any man I can imagine.


Third Serv. Do't! he will do 't; for, look you, sir, he has as many friends as enemies; which friends, sir, as it were, durst not, look you, sir, show themselves, as we term it, his friends, whilst he's in directitude.

First Serv. 'Directitude'! what's that? Third Serv. But when they shall see, sir, his crest up again, and the man in blood, they will out of their burrows, like conies after rain, and revel all with him.


First Serv. But when goes this forward?

Third Serv. To-morrow; to-day; presently. You shall have the drum struck up this afternoon; 'tis, as it were, a parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips.

Second Serv. Why, then we shall have a stirring world again. This peace is nothing but to rust iron, increase tailors, and breed ballad-makers.

First Serv. Let me have war, say I: it exceeds peace as far as day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more bastard children than war's a destroyer of men.

Second Serv. 'Tis so: and as war, in some sort, may be said to be a ravisher, so it cannot be denied but peace is a great maker of cuckolds.

First Serv. Ay, and it makes men hate one



Third Serv. Reason: because they then less need one another. The wars for my money. hope to see Romans as cheap as Volscians. They are rising, they are rising.

All. In, in, in, in!

Blush that the world goes well, who rather had,
Though they themselves did suffer by 't, behold
Dissentious numbers pestering streets than see
Our tradesmen singing in their shops and going
About their functions friendly.
Bru. We stood to 't in good time.


Is this Menenius? 10 Sic. 'Tis he, 'tis he. O! he is grown most kind Of late. Hail, sir!


His remedies are tame i' the present peace
And quietness o' the people, which before

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Worthy tribunes,
There is a slave, whom we have put in prison,
Reports, the Volsces with two several powers
Exeunt. Are enter'd in the Roman territories,
And with the deepest malice of the war
Destroy what lies before 'em.

SCENE VI.-Rome. A public Place.

'Tis Aufidius,
Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishment,
Thrusts forth his horns again into the world:


Sic. We hear not of him, neither need we fear Which were inshell'd when Marcius stood for


And durst not once peep out.

Sic. Come, what talk you of Marcius?


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Enter a Messenger.

Mess. The nobles in great earnestness are going Are mock'd for valiant ignorance,
And perish constant fools.

All to the senate-house: some news is come
That turns their countenances.


Your franchises, whereon you stood, confin'd Into an auger's bore.

Men. Pray now, your news? You have made fair work, I fear me. your news?


If Marcius should be join'd with Volscians.-

If! 90

He is their god: he leads them like a thing
Made by some other deity than Nature,
That shapes man better; and they follow him,
Against us brats, with no less confidence

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Bru. But is this true, sir? Com. Ay; and you'll look pale Before you find it other. All the regions Do smilingly revolt; and who resist

Who is 't can blame

Your enemies, and his, find something in him.
Men. We are all undone unless
The noble man have mercy.



Who shall ask it! The tribunes cannot do 't for shame; the people Deserve such pity of him as the wolf Does of the shepherds: for his best friends, if they Should say, 'Be good to Rome,' they charg'd him even

As those should do that had deserv'd his hate, And therein show'd like enemies.


"Tis true.

That should consume it, I have not the face
If he were putting to my house the brand
To say, 'Beseech you, cease.' You have made
fair hands,

You and your crafts! you have crafted fair!
You have brought
A trembling upon Rome, such as was never
So incapable of help.
Sic., Bru.
Say not we brought it.
Men. How! Was it we? We lov'd him; but,
like beasts
And cowardly nobles, gave way unto your

Who did hoot him out o' the city.


Com. But I fear They'll roar him in again. Tullus Aufidius, The second name of men, obeys his points As if he were his officer: desperation Is all the policy, strength, and defence, That Rome can make against them.


Enter a troop of Citizens.
Here come the clusters.
And is Aufidius with him? You are they
That made the air unwholesome, when you cast
Your stinking greasy caps in hooting at
Coriolanus' exile. Now he's coming;
And not a hair upon a soldier's head

Which will not prove a whip: as many coxcombs
As you threw caps up will he tumble down,
And pay you for your voices. 'Tis no matter:
If he could burn us all into one coal,
We have deserv'd it.

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