Vol. He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, than look upon his schoolmaster. Val. O' my word, the father's son; I'll swear, 'tis a very pretty boy. O'my troth, I looked upon him o' Wednesday half an hour together: he has such a confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded butterfly; and when he caught it, he let it go again; and after it again; and over and over he comes, and up again: catched it again: or whether his fall enraged him, or how 'twas, he did so set his teeth, and tear it; 0, I warrant, how he mammocked it! Vol. One of his father's moods. Val. Indeed la, 'tis a noble child. Vir. A crack, madam. Fir. No, good madam, I will not out of doors. Vir. Indeed, no, by your patience: I will not over the threshold, till my lord return from the wars. Val. Fye, you confine yourself most unreasonably; Come, you must go visit the good lady that lies in. Vol. I pray you, daughter, sing; or express yourself in a more comfortable sort: If my son were my husband, I should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won honour, than in Val. Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must the embracements of his bed, where he would have you play the idle huswife with me this show most love. When yet he was but tender-afternoon. bodied, and the only son of my womb; when youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way; when, for a day of kings' entreaties, a mother, should not sell him an hour from her beholding; I,-considering how honour would become such a person; that it was no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if renown made it not stir, -was pleased to let him seek danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter,-I sprang not more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child, than now in first seeing he had proved himself [how then? Vir. But had he died in the business, madam? Vol. Then his good report should have been my son; I therein would have found issue. Hear me profess sincerely: Had I a dozen sons, --each in my love alike, and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius,-I had rather had eleven die nobly for their country, than one voluptuously surfeit out of action. a man. Enter a Gentlewoman. Gent, Madam, the lady Valeria is come to visit you. Vir. Beseech you, give me leave to retire Vol. Indeed, you shall not. [myself. Methinks, I hear hither your husband's drum; See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair; As children from a bear, the Volces shunning him: Vir. I will wish her speedy strength,and visit her with my prayers; but I cannot go thither. Vol. Why, I pray you? [love. Vir. 'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want Val. You would be another Penelope: yet they say, all the yarn she spun, in Ulysses' absence, did but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come; I would your cambrick were sensible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us. Vir. No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth. Val. In truth, la, go with me: and I'll tell you excellent news of your husband. Vir. O, good madam, there can be none yet. Val. Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from him last night. Vir. Indeed, madam? Val. In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it. Thus it is:-The Volces have an army forth, against whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of our Roman power: your Methinks, I see him stamp thus, and call thus,-lord, and Titus Lartius, are set down before their Come on, you cowards, you were got in fear, Though you were born in Rome: His bloody brow With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes; Like to a harvest-man, that's task'd to mow Or all, or lose his hire. Vir. His bloody brow! O, Jupiter, no blood! Vol. Away, you fool! it more becomes a man, Than gilt his trophy: The breasts of Hecuba, When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier Than Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood At Grecian swords' contending.-Tell Valeria, We are fit to bid her welcome. [Exit Gent. Vir. Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius! Vol. He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee, And tread upon his neck. lo-cuter Gentlewoman, with VALERIA and her Val. My ladies both, good day to you. Vir. I am glad to see your ladyship. Vir. I thank your ladyship; well, good madam.! city Corioli; they nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief wars. This is true, on muine honour; and so, I pray, go with us. Vir. Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every thing hereafter. Vol. Let her alone, lady; as she is now, she will but disease our better mirth. Val. In troth, I think she would:-Fare you well then.-Come, good sweet lady.-Pr'ythee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o' door, and go along with us. Vir. No: at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish you much mirth. Val. Well, then farewell. [Exeunt. Mess. They lie in view; but have not spoke For half a hundred years.-Summon the town. Within this mile and half. Mar. Then shall we hear their larum, and they ours. from hence, Now, Mars, I pr'ythee make us quick in work: Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls? That's lesser than a little. Hark, our drums Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates, They'll open of themselves. Hark you, far off; The Volces enter, and pass over the stage. Mar. They fear us not, but issue forth their city. Now put your shields before your hearts, and He that retires, I'll take him for a Volce, Alarum, and exeunt Romans and Volces, fighting. Mar. All the contagion of the south light on All hurt behind; backs red and faces pale Or, by the tires of heaven, I'll leave the foe, As they us to our trenches followed. So, now the gates are ope:-Now prove good 'Tis for the followers fortune widens them, their hours At a crack'd drachm! Cushions, leaden spoons, Ere yet the fight be done, pack up:-Down And hark, what noise the general makes!- There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius, Now the fair goddess, Fortune, charms 612 May give you thankful sacrifice !-Thy news? Com. Though thou speak'st truth, Spies of the Volces Who's yonder, Come I too late? Com. The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor, More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue, Mar. Come I too late? Flower of warriors, How is't with Titus Lartius? Holding Corioli in the name of Rome, Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, Com. Where is that slave, They have placed their men of trust? By all the battles wherein we have fought, VOWS We have made to endure friends, that you Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates: Com. And follow Marcius. [They all shout, and wave their swords; take Shall bear the business in some other fight, Com. [Exeunt. SCENE VII. The Gates of Corioli. TITUS LARTIUSs, 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 a Scout. Lart. So, let the ports be guarded: keep your duties, As I have set them down. If I do send, dispatch Which told me they had beat you to your Those centuries to our aid; the rest will serve The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat, as they did Com. [budge us. But how prevail'd you? A field of Battle beeween the Roman and the Vol Mar. Will the time serve to tell? I do not Where is the enemy? Are you lords o' the field; cian Camps. Alarum. Enter MARCIUS and AUFIDIUS. Mar. Let the first budger die the other's And stand upon my common part with those slave, That have beheld the doing. And the gods doom him after! Auf. Halloo me like a hare. If I fly, Marcius, Mar. Within these three hours, Tullus, Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, [blood, And made what work I pleas'd; Tis not my 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 scape 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, MARCIUS, with his arm in a scarf, and other Romans. Com. If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work, Thou'lt not believe thy deeds: but ill report it, Our Rome hath such a soldier! Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast, [A long flourish. They all cry, Marcius Marcins! cast up their caps and lances: COMINIUS and LARTIUS stand bare. Mar. May these same instruments, which you profane, shall Never sound more! When drums and trumpets I'the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be Made all of false-fac'd soothing: When steel grows Soft as the parasite's silk, let him be made Here's many else have done,-you shout me forth 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 arm) in ma(known, nacles, Then reason safely with you.-Therefore, be it CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS. [Flourish. Trumpets sound, and Drums. All. Caius Marcius Coriolanus! Cor. I will go wash; Enter TITUS LARTIUS, with his Power, from the And when my face is fair, yon shall perceive pursuit. (In sign of what you are, not to reward The treasure, in this field achiev'd, and city, I thank you, general: Whether I blush, or no: How beit, I thank you: I mean to stride your steed; and, at all times, Com. So, to our tent: Where, ere we do repose us, we will write To Rome of our success,-You, Titus Lartius, Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome The best with whom we may articulate For their own good, and ours. Lart. I shall, my lord Cor. The gods begin to mock me. I that now Refus'd most princely gifts, am bound to beg Of my lord general. Com. Take it 'tis yours.-What is't? Cor. I sometime lay, here in Corioli, At a poor man's house; he us'd me kindly: He cried to me; I saw him prisoner; But then Aufidius was within my view, And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you To give my poor host freedom. Com. O, well begg'd! Were he the butcher of my son, he should Be free, as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus. Lart. Martius, his name? Cor. By Jupiter, forgot:I am weary; yea, my memory is tir'd.Have we no wine here? Com. Go we to our tent: The blood upon thy visage dries; 'tis time It should be look'd to; come. [Exeunt. SCENE X. The Camp of the Volces. A Flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS bloody, with two or three Soldiers. Auf. The town is ta'en. 1 Sol. 'Twill be deliver'd back on good con- and be angry at your pleasures; at the least, if Auf. Condition?--[dition. you take it as a pleasure to you, in being so. You blame Marcius for being proud! I would, I were a Roman; for I cannot, me; And would'st do so, I think, should we encounter With only suffering stain by him; for him Learn, how 'tis held; and what they are that must 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. [Exeunt Act Second. SCENE I. Rome. A Publick Place. Enter MENENIUS, SICINIUS, and BRUTUS. Men. The augurer tells me, we shall have news Bru. Good or bad? [to-night. Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius. [friends. Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their Men. 'Pray you, who does the wolf love? Sic. The lamb. Men. Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius. Bru. He's a lamb indeed, that baas like a bear. Men. He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two are old men; tell me one thing that I shall ask you. Both Trib. Well, sir. Men. In what enormity is Marcins poor, that you two have not in abundance? Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stored Sic. Especially, in pride. [with all. 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 censured? 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, 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 wonderous single: your abilities are too infantlike, for doing much alone. You talk of pride: O, that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O, that Bru. What then, sir? [you could! Men, Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates (alias fools), as any in Rome. Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough too. Men. I am known to be a humourous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying 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 malice in my breath: Meeting two such weals-men as you are(I cannot call you Lycurguses), if the drink you give 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 in compound with the major part of your syllables: and though I must be content to bear with those that say you are reverend 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 harm can your bisson conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too? [enough. Bru. Come, sir, come, we know you well Men. You know neither me, yourselves, nor any thing. You are ambition for poor knaves' caps and legs; you wear out a good wholesome forenoon, in hearing a cause between an orangewife and a fosset-seller; and then rejourn the controversy of three-pence to a second day of audience.-When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you chance to be pinched with the colick, 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 entangled 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 stuff a botcher's cushion, or to be entombed in an ass's pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors, since Deucalion; though peradventure, some of the best of them were hereditary hangmen. Good e'en to your worships; more of your conversation would infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians: I will be bold to take my leave of you. [BRU. and SIC. retire to the back of the Scene. Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and VALERIA, &c. How now, my as fair as noble ladies (and the |