It is hard to imagine a world without Shakespeare. Since their composition four hundred years ago, Shakespeare’s plays and poems have traveled the globe, inviting those who see and read his works to make them their own.
Readers of the New Folger Editions are part of this ongoing process of “taking up Shakespeare,” finding our own thoughts and feelings in language that strikes us as old or unusual and, for that very reason, new. We still struggle to keep up with a writer who could think a mile a minute, whose words paint pictures that shift like clouds. These expertly edited texts are presented to the public as a resource for study, artistic adaptation, and enjoyment. By making the classic texts of the New Folger Editions available in electronic form as The Folger Shakespeare (formerly Folger Digital Texts), we place a trusted resource in the hands of anyone who wants them.
The New Folger Editions of Shakespeare’s plays, which are the basis for the texts realized here in digital form, are special because of their origin. The Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, DC, is the single greatest documentary source of Shakespeare’s works. An unparalleled collection of early modern books, manuscripts, and artwork connected to Shakespeare, the Folger’s holdings have been consulted extensively in the preparation of these texts. The Editions also reflect the expertise gained through the regular performance of Shakespeare’s works in the Folger’s Elizabethan Theatre.
I want to express my deep thanks to editors Barbara Mowat and Paul Werstine for creating these indispensable editions of Shakespeare’s works, which incorporate the best of textual scholarship with a richness of commentary that is both inspired and engaging. Readers who want to know more about Shakespeare and his plays can follow the paths these distinguished scholars have tread by visiting the Folger either in-person or online, where a range of physical and digital resources exists to supplement the material in these texts. I commend to you these words, and hope that they inspire.
Michael Witmore
Director, Folger Shakespeare Library
Until now, with the release of The Folger Shakespeare (formerly Folger Digital Texts), readers in search of a free online text of Shakespeare’s plays had to be content primarily with using the Moby™ Text, which reproduces a late-nineteenth century version of the plays. What is the difference? Many ordinary readers assume that there is a single text for the plays: what Shakespeare wrote. But Shakespeare’s plays were not published the way modern novels or plays are published today: as a single, authoritative text. In some cases, the plays have come down to us in multiple published versions, represented by various Quartos (Qq) and by the great collection put together by his colleagues in 1623, called the First Folio (F). There are, for example, three very different versions of
Hamlet
, two of
King Lear
,
Henry V
,
Romeo and Juliet
, and others. Editors choose which version to use as their base text, and then amend that text with words, lines or speech prefixes from the other versions that, in their judgment, make for a better or more accurate text.
Other editorial decisions involve choices about whether an unfamiliar word could be understood in light of other writings of the period or whether it should be changed; decisions about words that made it into Shakespeare’s text by accident through four hundred years of printings and misprinting; and even decisions based on cultural preference and taste. When the Moby™ Text was created, for example, it was deemed “improper” and “indecent” for Miranda to chastise Caliban for having attempted to rape her. (See
The Tempest
, 1.2: “Abhorred slave,/Which any print of goodness wilt not take,/Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee…”). All Shakespeare editors at the time took the speech away from her and gave it to her father, Prospero.
The editors of the Moby™ Shakespeare produced their text long before scholars fully understood the proper grounds on which to make the thousands of decisions that Shakespeare editors face. The Folger Library Shakespeare Editions, on which the Folger Shakespeare texts depend, make this editorial process as nearly transparent as is possible, in contrast to older texts, like the Moby™, which hide editorial interventions. The reader of the Folger Shakespeare knows where the text has been altered because editorial interventions are signaled by square brackets (for example, from
Othello
: “
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If she in chains of magic were not bound,
square bracket
”), half-square brackets (for example, from
Henry V
: “With
half-square bracket
blood
half-square bracket
and sword and fire to win your right,”), or angle brackets (for example, from
Hamlet
: “O farewell, honest
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soldier.
angle bracket
Who hath relieved/you?”). At any point in the text, you can hover your cursor over a bracket for more information.
Because the Folger Shakespeare texts are edited in accord with twenty-first century knowledge about Shakespeare’s texts, the Folger here provides them to readers, scholars, teachers, actors, directors, and students, free of charge, confident of their quality as texts of the plays and pleased to be able to make this contribution to the study and enjoyment of Shakespeare.
As
Coriolanus
begins, two Roman patricians, Menenius and Martius, calm a revolt by the city’s famished plebians. Martius, who despises the plebians, announces that their petition to be represented by tribunes has been granted. When Volscian invaders attack Roman territories, Martius helps lead the Roman forces, and almost single-handedly conquers the Volscian city of Corioles, winning the name “Coriolanus.” The Volscian leader, Aufidius, swears revenge.
Victorious in battle, Coriolanus expects to be made a consul, but by custom he must ask for votes from the plebians. He does this so contemptuously that he is rejected as a consul. The tribunes later charge Coriolanus with treason and banish him from Rome. He seeks his former enemy, Aufidius.
Coriolanus and Aufidius join forces to conquer Rome. On the brink of success, Coriolanus is persuaded by his mother, Volumnia, to spare the city, though he knows it may cost him his life. Aufidius and his fellow conspirators plot Coriolanus’s death. Coriolanus returns to Corioles, where he is assassinated. Rome honors Volumnia for saving the city.
ACT
1
Scene
1
Enter
a
company
of
mutinous
Citizens
with
staves
,
clubs
,
and
other
weapons
.
Before
we
proceed
any
further
,
hear
me
speak
.
Speak
,
speak
!
You
are
all
resolved
rather
to
die
than
to
famish
?
Resolved
,
resolved
!
First
,
you
know
Caius
Martius
is
chief
enemy
to
the
people
.
We
know
’t
,
we
know
’t
!
Let
us
kill
him
,
and
we’ll
have
corn
at
our
own
price
.
Is
’t
a
verdict
?
No
more
talking
on
’t
;
let
it
be
done
.
Away
,
away
!
One
word
,
good
citizens
.
We
are
accounted
poor
citizens
,
the
patricians
good
.
What
authority
surfeits
on
would
relieve
us
.
If
they
would
yield
us
but
the
superfluity
while
it
were
wholesome
,
we
might
guess
they
relieved
us
humanely
.
But
they
think
we
are
too
dear
.
The
leanness
that
afflicts
us
,
the
object
of
our
misery
,
is
as
an
inventory
to
particularize
their
abundance
;
our
sufferance
is
a
gain
to
them
.
Let
us
revenge
this
with
our
pikes
ere
we
become
ACT 1. SC. 1
rakes
;
for
the
gods
know
I
speak
this
in
hunger
for
bread
,
not
in
thirst
for
revenge
.
Would
you
proceed
especially
against
Caius
Martius
?
Against
him
first
.
He’s
a
very
dog
to
the
commonalty
.
Consider
you
what
services
he
has
done
for
his
country
?
Very
well
,
and
could
be
content
to
give
him
good
report
for
’t
,
but
that
he
pays
himself
with
being
proud
.
Nay
,
but
speak
not
maliciously
.
I
say
unto
you
,
what
he
hath
done
famously
he
did
it
to
that
end
.
Though
soft-conscienced
men
can
be
content
to
say
it
was
for
his
country
,
he
did
it
to
please
his
mother
and
to
be
partly
proud
,
which
he
is
,
even
to
the
altitude
of
his
virtue
.
What
he
cannot
help
in
his
nature
you
account
a
vice
in
him
.
You
must
in
no
way
say
he
is
covetous
.
If
I
must
not
,
I
need
not
be
barren
of
accusations
.
He
hath
faults
,
with
surplus
,
to
tire
in
repetition
.
(
Shouts
within
.
)
What
shouts
are
these
?
The
other
side
o’
th’
city
is
risen
.
Why
stay
we
prating
here
?
To
th’
Capitol
!
Come
,
come
!
Enter
Menenius
Agrippa
.
Soft
,
who
comes
here
?
Worthy
Menenius
Agrippa
,
one
that
hath
always
loved
the
people
.
He’s
one
honest
enough
.
Would
all
the
rest
were
so
!
ACT 1. SC. 1
What
work
’s
,
my
countrymen
,
in
hand
?
Where
go
you
With
bats
and
clubs
?
The
matter
?
Speak
,
I
pray
you
.
Our
business
is
not
unknown
to
th’
Senate
.
They
have
had
inkling
this
fortnight
what
we
intend
to
do
,
which
now
we’ll
show
’em
in
deeds
.
They
say
poor
suitors
have
strong
breaths
;
they
shall
know
we
have
strong
arms
too
.
Why
,
masters
,
my
good
friends
,
mine
honest
neighbors
,
Will
you
undo
yourselves
?
We
cannot
,
sir
;
we
are
undone
already
.
I
tell
you
,
friends
,
most
charitable
care
Have
the
patricians
of
you
.
For
your
wants
,
Your
suffering
in
this
dearth
,
you
may
as
well
Strike
at
the
heaven
with
your
staves
as
lift
them
Against
the
Roman
state
,
whose
course
will
on
The
way
it
takes
,
cracking
ten
thousand
curbs
Of
more
strong
link
asunder
than
can
ever
Appear
in
your
impediment
.
For
the
dearth
,
The
gods
,
not
the
patricians
,
make
it
,
and
Your
knees
to
them
,
not
arms
,
must
help
.
Alack
,
You
are
transported
by
calamity
Thither
where
more
attends
you
,
and
you
slander
The
helms
o’
th’
state
,
who
care
for
you
like
fathers
,
When
you
curse
them
as
enemies
.
Care
for
us
?
True
,
indeed
!
They
ne’er
cared
for
us
yet
.
Suffer
us
to
famish
,
and
their
storehouses
crammed
with
grain
;
make
edicts
for
usury
to
support
usurers
;
repeal
daily
any
wholesome
act
established
against
the
rich
,
and
provide
more
piercing
statutes
daily
to
chain
up
and
restrain
ACT 1. SC. 1
the
poor
.
If
the
wars
eat
us
not
up
,
they
will
;
and
there’s
all
the
love
they
bear
us
.
Either
you
must
confess
yourselves
wondrous
malicious
Or
be
accused
of
folly
.
I
shall
tell
you
A
pretty
tale
.
It
may
be
you
have
heard
it
,
But
since
it
serves
my
purpose
,
I
will
venture
To
stale
’t
a
little
more
.
Well
,
I’ll
hear
it
,
sir
;
yet
you
must
not
think
to
fob
off
our
disgrace
with
a
tale
.
But
,
an
’t
please
you
,
deliver
.
There
was
a
time
when
all
the
body’s
members
Rebelled
against
the
belly
,
thus
accused
it
:
That
only
like
a
gulf
it
did
remain
I’
th’
midst
o’
th’
body
,
idle
and
unactive
,
Still
cupboarding
the
viand
,
never
bearing
Like
labor
with
the
rest
,
where
th’
other
instruments
Did
see
and
hear
,
devise
,
instruct
,
walk
,
feel
,
And
,
mutually
participate
,
did
minister
Unto
the
appetite
and
affection
common
Of
the
whole
body
.
The
belly
answered
—
Well
,
sir
,
what
answer
made
the
belly
?
Sir
,
I
shall
tell
you
.
With
a
kind
of
smile
,
Which
ne’er
came
from
the
lungs
,
but
even
thus
—
For
,
look
you
,
I
may
make
the
belly
smile
As
well
as
speak
—
it
tauntingly
replied
To
th’
discontented
members
,
the
mutinous
parts
That
envied
his
receipt
;
even
so
most
fitly
As
you
malign
our
senators
for
that
They
are
not
such
as
you
.
Your
belly’s
answer
—
what
?
The
kingly
crownèd
head
,
the
vigilant
eye
,
The
counselor
heart
,
the
arm
our
soldier
,
ACT 1. SC. 1
Our
steed
the
leg
,
the
tongue
our
trumpeter
,
With
other
muniments
and
petty
helps
In
this
our
fabric
,
if
that
they
—
What
then
?
’Fore
me
,
this
fellow
speaks
.
What
then
?
What
then
?
Should
by
the
cormorant
belly
be
restrained
,
Who
is
the
sink
o’
th’
body
—
Well
,
what
then
?
The
former
agents
,
if
they
did
complain
,
What
could
the
belly
answer
?
I
will
tell
you
,
If
you’ll
bestow
a
small
—
of
what
you
have
little
—
Patience
awhile
,
you’st
hear
the
belly’s
answer
.
You’re
long
about
it
.
Note
me
this
,
good
friend
;
Your
most
grave
belly
was
deliberate
,
Not
rash
like
his
accusers
,
and
thus
answered
:
True
is
it
,
my
incorporate
friends
,
quoth
he
,
That
I
receive
the
general
food
at
first
Which
you
do
live
upon
;
and
fit
it
is
,
Because
I
am
the
storehouse
and
the
shop
Of
the
whole
body
.
But
,
if
you
do
remember
,
I
send
it
through
the
rivers
of
your
blood
Even
to
the
court
,
the
heart
,
to
th’
seat
o’
th’
brain
;
And
,
through
the
cranks
and
offices
of
man
,
The
strongest
nerves
and
small
inferior
veins
From
me
receive
that
natural
competency
Whereby
they
live
.
And
though
that
all
at
once
,
You
,
my
good
friends
—
this
says
the
belly
,
mark
me
—
Ay
,
sir
,
well
,
well
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
Though
all
at
once
cannot
See
what
I
do
deliver
out
to
each
,
Yet
I
can
make
my
audit
up
,
that
all
From
me
do
back
receive
the
flour
of
all
,
And
leave
me
but
the
bran
.
What
say
you
to
’t
?
It
was
an
answer
.
How
apply
you
this
?
The
senators
of
Rome
are
this
good
belly
,
And
you
the
mutinous
members
.
For
examine
Their
counsels
and
their
cares
,
digest
things
rightly
Touching
the
weal
o’
th’
common
,
you
shall
find
No
public
benefit
which
you
receive
But
it
proceeds
or
comes
from
them
to
you
And
no
way
from
yourselves
.
What
do
you
think
,
You
,
the
great
toe
of
this
assembly
?
I
the
great
toe
?
Why
the
great
toe
?
For
that
,
being
one
o’
th’
lowest
,
basest
,
poorest
,
Of
this
most
wise
rebellion
,
thou
goest
foremost
.
Thou
rascal
,
that
art
worst
in
blood
to
run
,
Lead’st
first
to
win
some
vantage
.
But
make
you
ready
your
stiff
bats
and
clubs
.
Rome
and
her
rats
are
at
the
point
of
battle
;
The
one
side
must
have
bale
.
Enter
Caius
Martius
.
Hail
,
noble
Martius
.
Thanks
.
—
What’s
the
matter
,
you
dissentious
rogues
,
That
,
rubbing
the
poor
itch
of
your
opinion
,
Make
yourselves
scabs
?
We
have
ever
your
good
word
.
He
that
will
give
good
words
to
thee
will
flatter
Beneath
abhorring
.
What
would
you
have
,
you
curs
,
ACT 1. SC. 1
That
like
nor
peace
nor
war
?
The
one
affrights
you
;
The
other
makes
you
proud
.
He
that
trusts
to
you
,
Where
he
should
find
you
lions
,
finds
you
hares
;
Where
foxes
,
geese
.
You
are
no
surer
,
no
,
Than
is
the
coal
of
fire
upon
the
ice
Or
hailstone
in
the
sun
.
Your
virtue
is
To
make
him
worthy
whose
offense
subdues
him
,
And
curse
that
justice
did
it
.
Who
deserves
greatness
Deserves
your
hate
;
and
your
affections
are
A
sick
man’s
appetite
,
who
desires
most
that
Which
would
increase
his
evil
.
He
that
depends
Upon
your
favors
swims
with
fins
of
lead
,
And
hews
down
oaks
with
rushes
.
Hang
you
!
Trust
you
?
With
every
minute
you
do
change
a
mind
And
call
him
noble
that
was
now
your
hate
,
Him
vile
that
was
your
garland
.
What’s
the
matter
,
That
in
these
several
places
of
the
city
You
cry
against
the
noble
senate
,
who
,
Under
the
gods
,
keep
you
in
awe
,
which
else
Would
feed
on
one
another
?
—
What’s
their
seeking
?
For
corn
at
their
own
rates
,
whereof
they
say
The
city
is
well
stored
.
Hang
’em
!
They
say
?
They’ll
sit
by
th’
fire
and
presume
to
know
What’s
done
i’
th’
Capitol
,
who’s
like
to
rise
,
Who
thrives
,
and
who
declines
;
side
factions
and
give
out
Conjectural
marriages
,
making
parties
strong
And
feebling
such
as
stand
not
in
their
liking
Below
their
cobbled
shoes
.
They
say
there’s
grain
enough
?
Would
the
nobility
lay
aside
their
ruth
And
let
me
use
my
sword
,
I’d
make
a
quarry
ACT 1. SC. 1
With
thousands
of
these
quartered
slaves
as
high
As
I
could
pick
my
lance
.
Nay
,
these
are
almost
thoroughly
persuaded
;
For
though
abundantly
they
lack
discretion
,
Yet
are
they
passing
cowardly
.
But
I
beseech
you
,
What
says
the
other
troop
?
They
are
dissolved
.
Hang
’em
!
They
said
they
were
an-hungry
,
sighed
forth
proverbs
That
hunger
broke
stone
walls
,
that
dogs
must
eat
,
That
meat
was
made
for
mouths
,
that
the
gods
sent
not
Corn
for
the
rich
men
only
.
With
these
shreds
They
vented
their
complainings
,
which
being
answered
And
a
petition
granted
them
—
a
strange
one
,
To
break
the
heart
of
generosity
And
make
bold
power
look
pale
—
they
threw
their
caps
As
they
would
hang
them
on
the
horns
o’
th’
moon
,
Shouting
their
emulation
.
What
is
granted
them
?
Five
tribunes
to
defend
their
vulgar
wisdoms
,
Of
their
own
choice
.
One’s
Junius
Brutus
,
Sicinius
Velutus
,
and
I
know
not
.
’Sdeath
!
The
rabble
should
have
first
unroofed
the
city
Ere
so
prevailed
with
me
.
It
will
in
time
Win
upon
power
and
throw
forth
greater
themes
For
insurrection’s
arguing
.
This
is
strange
.
Go
get
you
home
,
you
fragments
.
Enter
a
Messenger
hastily
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
Where’s
Caius
Martius
?
Here
.
What’s
the
matter
?
The
news
is
,
sir
,
the
Volsces
are
in
arms
.
I
am
glad
on
’t
.
Then
we
shall
ha’
means
to
vent
Our
musty
superfluity
.
Enter
Sicinius
Velutus
,
Junius
Brutus
,
(
two
Tribunes
)
;
Cominius
,
Titus
Lartius
,
with
other
Senators
.
See
our
best
elders
.
Martius
,
’tis
true
that
you
have
lately
told
us
:
The
Volsces
are
in
arms
.
They
have
a
leader
,
Tullus
Aufidius
,
that
will
put
you
to
’t
.
I
sin
in
envying
his
nobility
,
And
,
were
I
anything
but
what
I
am
,
I
would
wish
me
only
he
.
You
have
fought
together
?
Were
half
to
half
the
world
by
th’
ears
and
he
Upon
my
party
,
I’d
revolt
,
to
make
Only
my
wars
with
him
.
He
is
a
lion
That
I
am
proud
to
hunt
.
Then
,
worthy
Martius
,
Attend
upon
Cominius
to
these
wars
.
It
is
your
former
promise
.
Sir
,
it
is
,
And
I
am
constant
.
—
Titus
Lartius
,
thou
Shalt
see
me
once
more
strike
at
Tullus’
face
.
What
,
art
thou
stiff
?
Stand’st
out
?
ACT 1. SC. 1
No
,
Caius
Martius
,
I’ll
lean
upon
one
crutch
and
fight
with
t’
other
Ere
stay
behind
this
business
.
O
,
true
bred
!
Your
company
to
th’
Capitol
,
where
I
know
Our
greatest
friends
attend
us
.
,
to
Cominius
Lead
you
on
.
—
To
Martius
.
Follow
Cominius
.
We
must
follow
you
;
Right
worthy
you
priority
.
Noble
Martius
.
,
to
the
Citizens
Hence
to
your
homes
,
begone
.
Nay
,
let
them
follow
.
The
Volsces
have
much
corn
;
take
these
rats
thither
To
gnaw
their
garners
.
Citizens
steal
away
.
Worshipful
mutineers
,
Your
valor
puts
well
forth
.
—
Pray
follow
.
They
exit
.
Sicinius
and
Brutus
remain
.
Was
ever
man
so
proud
as
is
this
Martius
?
He
has
no
equal
.
When
we
were
chosen
tribunes
for
the
people
—
Marked
you
his
lip
and
eyes
?
Nay
,
but
his
taunts
.
Being
moved
,
he
will
not
spare
to
gird
the
gods
—
Bemock
the
modest
moon
.
The
present
wars
devour
him
!
He
is
grown
Too
proud
to
be
so
valiant
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
Such
a
nature
,
Tickled
with
good
success
,
disdains
the
shadow
Which
he
treads
on
at
noon
.
But
I
do
wonder
His
insolence
can
brook
to
be
commanded
Under
Cominius
.
Fame
,
at
the
which
he
aims
,
In
whom
already
he’s
well
graced
,
cannot
Better
be
held
nor
more
attained
than
by
A
place
below
the
first
;
for
what
miscarries
Shall
be
the
General’s
fault
,
though
he
perform
To
th’
utmost
of
a
man
,
and
giddy
censure
Will
then
cry
out
of
Martius
O
,
if
he
Had
borne
the
business
!
Besides
,
if
things
go
well
,
Opinion
that
so
sticks
on
Martius
shall
Of
his
demerits
rob
Cominius
.
Come
.
Half
all
Cominius’
honors
are
to
Martius
,
Though
Martius
earned
them
not
,
and
all
his
faults
To
Martius
shall
be
honors
,
though
indeed
In
aught
he
merit
not
.
Let’s
hence
and
hear
How
the
dispatch
is
made
,
and
in
what
fashion
,
More
than
his
singularity
,
he
goes
Upon
this
present
action
.
Let’s
along
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
Tullus
Aufidius
with
Senators
of
Corioles
.
So
,
your
opinion
is
,
Aufidius
,
That
they
of
Rome
are
entered
in
our
counsels
And
know
how
we
proceed
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
Is
it
not
yours
?
Whatever
have
been
thought
on
in
this
state
That
could
be
brought
to
bodily
act
ere
Rome
Had
circumvention
?
’Tis
not
four
days
gone
Since
I
heard
thence
.
These
are
the
words
—
I
think
I
have
the
letter
here
.
Yes
,
here
it
is
.
(
He
reads
.
)
They
have
pressed
a
power
,
but
it
is
not
known
Whether
for
east
or
west
.
The
dearth
is
great
.
The
people
mutinous
;
and
,
it
is
rumored
,
Cominius
,
Martius
your
old
enemy
,
Who
is
of
Rome
worse
hated
than
of
you
,
And
Titus
Lartius
,
a
most
valiant
Roman
,
These
three
lead
on
this
preparation
Whither
’tis
bent
.
Most
likely
’tis
for
you
.
Consider
of
it
.
Our
army’s
in
the
field
.
We
never
yet
made
doubt
but
Rome
was
ready
To
answer
us
.
Nor
did
you
think
it
folly
To
keep
your
great
pretenses
veiled
till
when
They
needs
must
show
themselves
,
which
,
in
the
hatching
,
It
seemed
,
appeared
to
Rome
.
By
the
discovery
We
shall
be
shortened
in
our
aim
,
which
was
To
take
in
many
towns
ere
almost
Rome
Should
know
we
were
afoot
.
Noble
Aufidius
,
Take
your
commission
;
hie
you
to
your
bands
.
Let
us
alone
to
guard
Corioles
.
If
they
set
down
before
’s
,
for
the
remove
Bring
up
your
army
.
But
I
think
you’ll
find
They’ve
not
prepared
for
us
.
O
,
doubt
not
that
;
I
speak
from
certainties
.
Nay
,
more
,
ACT 1. SC. 3
Some
parcels
of
their
power
are
forth
already
,
And
only
hitherward
.
I
leave
your
Honors
.
If
we
and
Caius
Martius
chance
to
meet
,
’Tis
sworn
between
us
we
shall
ever
strike
Till
one
can
do
no
more
.
The
gods
assist
you
!
And
keep
your
Honors
safe
!
Farewell
.
Farewell
.
Farewell
.
All
exit
.
Scene
3
Enter
Volumnia
and
Virgilia
,
mother
and
wife
to
Martius
.
They
set
them
down
on
two
low
stools
and
sew
.
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
honor
than
in
the
embracements
of
his
bed
where
he
would
show
most
love
.
When
yet
he
was
but
tender-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
honor
would
become
such
a
person
—
that
it
was
no
better
than
picture-like
to
hang
by
th’
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
a
man
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
But
had
he
died
in
the
business
,
madam
,
how
then
?
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
Martius
,
I
had
rather
had
eleven
die
nobly
for
their
country
than
one
voluptuously
surfeit
out
of
action
.
Enter
a
Gentlewoman
.
Madam
,
the
Lady
Valeria
is
come
to
visit
you
.
Beseech
you
,
give
me
leave
to
retire
myself
.
Indeed
you
shall
not
.
Methinks
I
hear
hither
your
husband’s
drum
,
See
him
pluck
Aufidius
down
by
th’
hair
;
As
children
from
a
bear
,
the
Volsces
shunning
him
.
Methinks
I
see
him
stamp
thus
and
call
thus
:
Come
on
,
you
cowards
!
You
were
got
in
fear
,
Though
you
were
born
in
Rome
.
His
bloody
brow
With
his
mailed
hand
then
wiping
,
forth
he
goes
Like
to
a
harvestman
that’s
tasked
to
mow
Or
all
or
lose
his
hire
.
His
bloody
brow
?
O
Jupiter
,
no
blood
!
Away
,
you
fool
!
It
more
becomes
a
man
Than
gilt
his
trophy
.
The
breasts
of
Hecuba
,
When
she
did
suckle
Hector
,
looked
not
lovelier
Than
Hector’s
forehead
when
it
spit
forth
blood
At
Grecian
sword
,
contemning
.
—
Tell
Valeria
We
are
fit
to
bid
her
welcome
.
Gentlewoman
exits
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
Heavens
bless
my
lord
from
fell
Aufidius
!
He’ll
beat
Aufidius’
head
below
his
knee
And
tread
upon
his
neck
.
Enter
Valeria
with
an
Usher
and
a
Gentlewoman
.
My
ladies
both
,
good
day
to
you
.
Sweet
madam
.
I
am
glad
to
see
your
Ladyship
.
How
do
you
both
?
You
are
manifest
housekeepers
.
What
are
you
sewing
here
?
A
fine
spot
,
in
good
faith
.
How
does
your
little
son
?
I
thank
your
Ladyship
;
well
,
good
madam
.
He
had
rather
see
the
swords
and
hear
a
drum
than
look
upon
his
schoolmaster
.
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
.
H’as
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
.
O
,
I
warrant
how
he
mammocked
it
!
One
on
’s
father’s
moods
.
Indeed
,
la
,
’tis
a
noble
child
.
A
crack
,
madam
.
Come
,
lay
aside
your
stitchery
.
I
must
have
you
play
the
idle
huswife
with
me
this
afternoon
.
No
,
good
madam
,
I
will
not
out
of
doors
.
Not
out
of
doors
?
She
shall
,
she
shall
.
Indeed
,
no
,
by
your
patience
.
I’ll
not
over
the
threshold
till
my
lord
return
from
the
wars
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
Fie
,
you
confine
yourself
most
unreasonably
.
Come
,
you
must
go
visit
the
good
lady
that
lies
in
.
I
will
wish
her
speedy
strength
and
visit
her
with
my
prayers
,
but
I
cannot
go
thither
.
Why
,
I
pray
you
?
’Tis
not
to
save
labor
,
nor
that
I
want
love
.
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
cambric
were
sensible
as
your
finger
,
that
you
might
leave
pricking
it
for
pity
.
Come
,
you
shall
go
with
us
.
No
,
good
madam
,
pardon
me
;
indeed
,
I
will
not
forth
.
In
truth
,
la
,
go
with
me
,
and
I’ll
tell
you
excellent
news
of
your
husband
.
O
,
good
madam
,
there
can
be
none
yet
.
Verily
,
I
do
not
jest
with
you
.
There
came
news
from
him
last
night
.
Indeed
,
madam
!
In
earnest
,
it’s
true
.
I
heard
a
senator
speak
it
.
Thus
it
is
:
the
Volsces
have
an
army
forth
,
against
whom
Cominius
the
General
is
gone
with
one
part
of
our
Roman
power
.
Your
lord
and
Titus
Lartius
are
set
down
before
their
city
Corioles
.
They
nothing
doubt
prevailing
,
and
to
make
it
brief
wars
.
This
is
true
,
on
mine
honor
,
and
so
,
I
pray
,
go
with
us
.
Give
me
excuse
,
good
madam
.
I
will
obey
you
in
everything
hereafter
.
Let
her
alone
,
lady
.
As
she
is
now
,
she
will
but
disease
our
better
mirth
.
In
troth
,
I
think
she
would
.
—
Fare
you
well
,
then
.
—
Come
,
good
sweet
lady
.
—
Prithee
,
Virgilia
,
turn
thy
solemness
out
o’
door
,
and
go
along
with
us
.
ACT 1. SC. 4
No
,
at
a
word
,
madam
.
Indeed
,
I
must
not
.
I
wish
you
much
mirth
.
Well
,
then
,
farewell
.
Ladies
exit
.
Scene
4
Enter
Martius
,
Titus
Lartius
,
with
Trumpet
,
Drum
,
and
Colors
,
with
Captains
and
Soldiers
,
as
before
the
city
of
Corioles
.
To
them
a
Messenger
.
Yonder
comes
news
.
A
wager
they
have
met
.
My
horse
to
yours
,
no
.
’Tis
done
.
Agreed
.
,
to
Messenger
Say
,
has
our
general
met
the
enemy
?
They
lie
in
view
but
have
not
spoke
as
yet
.
So
the
good
horse
is
mine
.
I’ll
buy
him
of
you
.
No
,
I’ll
nor
sell
nor
give
him
.
Lend
you
him
I
will
For
half
a
hundred
years
.
—
Summon
the
town
.
How
far
off
lie
these
armies
?
Within
this
mile
and
half
.
Then
shall
we
hear
their
’larum
and
they
ours
.
Now
,
Mars
,
I
prithee
,
make
us
quick
in
work
,
That
we
with
smoking
swords
may
march
from
hence
To
help
our
fielded
friends
!
—
Come
,
blow
thy
blast
.
They
sound
a
parley
.
ACT 1. SC. 4
Enter
two
Senators
with
others
on
the
walls
of
Corioles
.
Tullus
Aufidius
,
is
he
within
your
walls
?
No
,
nor
a
man
that
fears
you
less
than
he
:
That’s
lesser
than
a
little
.
Drum
afar
off
.
Hark
,
our
drums
Are
bringing
forth
our
youth
.
We’ll
break
our
walls
Rather
than
they
shall
pound
us
up
.
Our
gates
,
Which
yet
seem
shut
,
we
have
but
pinned
with
rushes
.
They’ll
open
of
themselves
.
Alarum
far
off
.
Hark
you
,
far
off
!
There
is
Aufidius
.
List
what
work
he
makes
Amongst
your
cloven
army
.
They
exit
from
the
walls
.
O
,
they
are
at
it
!
Their
noise
be
our
instruction
.
—
Ladders
,
ho
!
Enter
the
Army
of
the
Volsces
as
through
the
city
gates
.
They
fear
us
not
but
issue
forth
their
city
.
—
Now
put
your
shields
before
your
hearts
,
and
fight
With
hearts
more
proof
than
shields
.
—
Advance
,
brave
Titus
.
They
do
disdain
us
much
beyond
our
thoughts
,
Which
makes
me
sweat
with
wrath
.
—
Come
on
,
my
fellows
!
He
that
retires
,
I’ll
take
him
for
a
Volsce
,
And
he
shall
feel
mine
edge
.
Alarum
.
The
Romans
are
beat
back
to
their
trenches
.
They
exit
,
with
the
Volsces
following
.
Enter
Martius
cursing
,
with
Roman
soldiers
.
ACT 1. SC. 4
All
the
contagion
of
the
south
light
on
you
,
You
shames
of
Rome
!
You
herd
of
—
Boils
and
plagues
Plaster
you
o’er
,
that
you
may
be
abhorred
Farther
than
seen
,
and
one
infect
another
Against
the
wind
a
mile
!
You
souls
of
geese
,
That
bear
the
shapes
of
men
,
how
have
you
run
From
slaves
that
apes
would
beat
!
Pluto
and
hell
!
All
hurt
behind
.
Backs
red
,
and
faces
pale
With
flight
and
agued
fear
!
Mend
,
and
charge
home
,
Or
,
by
the
fires
of
heaven
,
I’ll
leave
the
foe
And
make
my
wars
on
you
.
Look
to
’t
.
Come
on
!
If
you’ll
stand
fast
,
we’ll
beat
them
to
their
wives
,
As
they
us
to
our
trenches
.
Follow
’s
!
Another
alarum
.
The
Volsces
re-enter
and
are
driven
back
to
the
gates
of
Corioles
,
which
open
to
admit
them
.
So
,
now
the
gates
are
ope
.
Now
prove
good
seconds
!
’Tis
for
the
followers
fortune
widens
them
,
Not
for
the
fliers
.
Mark
me
,
and
do
the
like
.
Martius
follows
the
fleeing
Volsces
through
the
gates
,
and
is
shut
in
.
Foolhardiness
,
not
I
.
Nor
I
.
See
they
have
shut
him
in
.
Alarum
continues
.
To
th’
pot
,
I
warrant
him
.
Enter
Titus
Lartius
.
What
is
become
of
Martius
?
Slain
,
sir
,
doubtless
.
ACT 1. SC. 5
Following
the
fliers
at
the
very
heels
,
With
them
he
enters
,
who
upon
the
sudden
Clapped
to
their
gates
.
He
is
himself
alone
,
To
answer
all
the
city
.
O
,
noble
fellow
,
Who
sensibly
outdares
his
senseless
sword
,
And
when
it
bows
,
stand’st
up
!
Thou
art
left
,
Martius
.
A
carbuncle
entire
,
as
big
as
thou
art
,
Were
not
so
rich
a
jewel
.
Thou
wast
a
soldier
Even
to
Cato’s
wish
,
not
fierce
and
terrible
Only
in
strokes
,
but
with
thy
grim
looks
and
The
thunderlike
percussion
of
thy
sounds
Thou
mad’st
thine
enemies
shake
,
as
if
the
world
Were
feverous
and
did
tremble
.
Enter
Martius
,
bleeding
,
as
if
from
Corioles
,
assaulted
by
the
enemy
.
Look
,
sir
.
O
,
’tis
Martius
!
Let’s
fetch
him
off
or
make
remain
alike
.
They
fight
,
and
all
enter
the
city
,
exiting
the
stage
.
Scene
5
Enter
certain
Romans
,
with
spoils
.
This
will
I
carry
to
Rome
.
And
I
this
.
A
murrain
on
’t
!
I
took
this
for
silver
.
Enter
Martius
,
and
Titus
Lartius
with
a
Trumpet
.
See
here
these
movers
that
do
prize
their
hours
At
a
cracked
drachma
.
Cushions
,
leaden
spoons
,
ACT 1. SC. 5
Irons
of
a
doit
,
doublets
that
hangmen
would
Bury
with
those
that
wore
them
,
these
base
slaves
,
Ere
yet
the
fight
be
done
,
pack
up
.
Down
with
them
!
The
Romans
with
spoils
exit
.
Alarum
continues
still
afar
off
.
And
hark
,
what
noise
the
General
makes
!
To
him
!
There
is
the
man
of
my
soul’s
hate
,
Aufidius
,
Piercing
our
Romans
.
Then
,
valiant
Titus
,
take
Convenient
numbers
to
make
good
the
city
,
Whilst
I
,
with
those
that
have
the
spirit
,
will
haste
To
help
Cominius
.
Worthy
sir
,
thou
bleed’st
.
Thy
exercise
hath
been
too
violent
For
a
second
course
of
fight
.
Sir
,
praise
me
not
.
My
work
hath
yet
not
warmed
me
.
Fare
you
well
.
The
blood
I
drop
is
rather
physical
Than
dangerous
to
me
.
To
Aufidius
thus
I
will
appear
and
fight
.
Now
the
fair
goddess
Fortune
Fall
deep
in
love
with
thee
,
and
her
great
charms
Misguide
thy
opposers’
swords
!
Bold
gentleman
,
Prosperity
be
thy
page
!
Thy
friend
no
less
Than
those
she
placeth
highest
!
So
farewell
.
Thou
worthiest
Martius
!
Martius
exits
.
Go
sound
thy
trumpet
in
the
marketplace
.
Call
thither
all
the
officers
o’
th’
town
,
Where
they
shall
know
our
mind
.
Away
!
They
exit
.
ACT 1. SC. 6
Scene
6
Enter
Cominius
as
it
were
in
retire
,
with
Soldiers
.
Breathe
you
,
my
friends
.
Well
fought
!
We
are
come
off
Like
Romans
,
neither
foolish
in
our
stands
Nor
cowardly
in
retire
.
Believe
me
,
sirs
,
We
shall
be
charged
again
.
Whiles
we
have
struck
,
By
interims
and
conveying
gusts
we
have
heard
The
charges
of
our
friends
.
The
Roman
gods
Lead
their
successes
as
we
wish
our
own
,
That
both
our
powers
,
with
smiling
fronts
encount’ring
,
May
give
you
thankful
sacrifice
!
Enter
a
Messenger
.
Thy
news
?
The
citizens
of
Corioles
have
issued
And
given
to
Lartius
and
to
Martius
battle
.
I
saw
our
party
to
their
trenches
driven
,
And
then
I
came
away
.
Though
thou
speakest
truth
,
Methinks
thou
speak’st
not
well
.
How
long
is
’t
since
?
Above
an
hour
,
my
lord
.
’Tis
not
a
mile
;
briefly
we
heard
their
drums
.
How
couldst
thou
in
a
mile
confound
an
hour
And
bring
thy
news
so
late
?
Spies
of
the
Volsces
Held
me
in
chase
,
that
I
was
forced
to
wheel
ACT 1. SC. 6
Three
or
four
miles
about
;
else
had
I
,
sir
,
Half
an
hour
since
brought
my
report
.
He
exits
.
Enter
Martius
,
bloody
.
Who’s
yonder
,
That
does
appear
as
he
were
flayed
?
O
gods
,
He
has
the
stamp
of
Martius
,
and
I
have
Before-time
seen
him
thus
.
Come
I
too
late
?
The
shepherd
knows
not
thunder
from
a
tabor
More
than
I
know
the
sound
of
Martius’
tongue
From
every
meaner
man
.
Come
I
too
late
?
Ay
,
if
you
come
not
in
the
blood
of
others
,
But
mantled
in
your
own
.
O
,
let
me
clip
you
In
arms
as
sound
as
when
I
wooed
,
in
heart
As
merry
as
when
our
nuptial
day
was
done
And
tapers
burnt
to
bedward
!
They
embrace
.
Flower
of
warriors
,
how
is
’t
with
Titus
Lartius
?
As
with
a
man
busied
about
decrees
,
Condemning
some
to
death
and
some
to
exile
;
Ransoming
him
or
pitying
,
threat’ning
th’
other
;
Holding
Corioles
in
the
name
of
Rome
Even
like
a
fawning
greyhound
in
the
leash
,
To
let
him
slip
at
will
.
Where
is
that
slave
Which
told
me
they
had
beat
you
to
your
trenches
?
Where
is
he
?
Call
him
hither
.
Let
him
alone
.
He
did
inform
the
truth
.
But
for
our
gentlemen
,
ACT 1. SC. 6
The
common
file
—
a
plague
!
Tribunes
for
them
!
—
The
mouse
ne’er
shunned
the
cat
as
they
did
budge
From
rascals
worse
than
they
.
But
how
prevailed
you
?
Will
the
time
serve
to
tell
?
I
do
not
think
.
Where
is
the
enemy
?
Are
you
lords
o’
th’
field
?
If
not
,
why
cease
you
till
you
are
so
?
Martius
,
we
have
at
disadvantage
fought
And
did
retire
to
win
our
purpose
.
How
lies
their
battle
?
Know
you
on
which
side
They
have
placed
their
men
of
trust
?
As
I
guess
,
Martius
,
Their
bands
i’
th’
vaward
are
the
Antiates
,
Of
their
best
trust
;
o’er
them
Aufidius
,
Their
very
heart
of
hope
.
I
do
beseech
you
,
By
all
the
battles
wherein
we
have
fought
,
By
th’
blood
we
have
shed
together
,
by
th’
vows
we
have
made
To
endure
friends
,
that
you
directly
set
me
Against
Aufidius
and
his
Antiates
,
And
that
you
not
delay
the
present
,
but
,
Filling
the
air
with
swords
advanced
and
darts
,
We
prove
this
very
hour
.
Though
I
could
wish
You
were
conducted
to
a
gentle
bath
And
balms
applied
to
you
,
yet
dare
I
never
Deny
your
asking
.
Take
your
choice
of
those
That
best
can
aid
your
action
.
Those
are
they
That
most
are
willing
.
If
any
such
be
here
—
ACT 1. SC. 7
As
it
were
sin
to
doubt
—
that
love
this
painting
Wherein
you
see
me
smeared
;
if
any
fear
Lesser
his
person
than
an
ill
report
;
If
any
think
brave
death
outweighs
bad
life
,
And
that
his
country’s
dearer
than
himself
;
Let
him
alone
,
or
so
many
so
minded
,
Wave
thus
to
express
his
disposition
And
follow
Martius
.
He
waves
his
sword
.
They
all
shout
and
wave
their
swords
,
take
him
up
in
their
arms
,
and
cast
up
their
caps
.
O
,
me
alone
!
Make
you
a
sword
of
me
?
If
these
shows
be
not
outward
,
which
of
you
But
is
four
Volsces
?
None
of
you
but
is
Able
to
bear
against
the
great
Aufidius
A
shield
as
hard
as
his
.
A
certain
number
,
Though
thanks
to
all
,
must
I
select
from
all
.
The
rest
shall
bear
the
business
in
some
other
fight
,
As
cause
will
be
obeyed
.
Please
you
to
march
,
And
I
shall
quickly
draw
out
my
command
,
Which
men
are
best
inclined
.
March
on
,
my
fellows
.
Make
good
this
ostentation
,
and
you
shall
Divide
in
all
with
us
.
They
exit
.
Scene
7
Titus
Lartius
,
having
set
a
guard
upon
Corioles
,
going
with
Drum
and
Trumpet
toward
Cominius
and
Caius
Martius
,
enters
with
a
Lieutenant
,
other
Soldiers
,
and
a
Scout
.
So
,
let
the
ports
be
guarded
.
Keep
your
duties
As
I
have
set
them
down
.
If
I
do
send
,
dispatch
Those
centuries
to
our
aid
;
the
rest
will
serve
ACT 1. SC. 8
For
a
short
holding
.
If
we
lose
the
field
,
We
cannot
keep
the
town
.
Fear
not
our
care
,
sir
.
Hence
,
and
shut
your
gates
upon
’s
.
(
To
the
Scout
.
)
Our
guider
,
come
.
To
th’
Roman
camp
conduct
us
.
They
exit
,
the
Lieutenant
one
way
,
Lartius
another
.
Scene
8
Alarum
,
as
in
battle
.
Enter
Martius
and
Aufidius
at
several
doors
.
I’ll
fight
with
none
but
thee
,
for
I
do
hate
thee
Worse
than
a
promise-breaker
.
We
hate
alike
.
Not
Afric
owns
a
serpent
I
abhor
More
than
thy
fame
and
envy
.
Fix
thy
foot
.
Let
the
first
budger
die
the
other’s
slave
,
And
the
gods
doom
him
after
!
If
I
fly
,
Martius
,
Hollo
me
like
a
hare
.
Within
these
three
hours
,
Tullus
,
Alone
I
fought
in
your
Corioles’
walls
And
made
what
work
I
pleased
.
’Tis
not
my
blood
Wherein
thou
seest
me
masked
.
For
thy
revenge
,
Wrench
up
thy
power
to
th’
highest
.
Wert
thou
the
Hector
That
was
the
whip
of
your
bragged
progeny
,
Thou
shouldst
not
scape
me
here
.
Here
they
fight
,
and
certain
Volsces
come
in
the
aid
of
Aufidius
.
ACT 1. SC. 9
(
To
the
Volsces
.
)
Officious
and
not
valiant
,
you
have
shamed
me
In
your
condemnèd
seconds
.
Martius
fights
till
they
be
driven
in
breathless
.
Aufidius
and
Martius
exit
,
separately
.
Scene
9
Alarum
.
A
retreat
is
sounded
.
Flourish
.
Enter
,
at
one
door
,
Cominius
with
the
Romans
;
at
another
door
Martius
,
with
his
arm
in
a
scarf
.
,
to
Martius
If
I
should
tell
thee
o’er
this
thy
day’s
work
,
Thou
’t
not
believe
thy
deeds
.
But
I’ll
report
it
Where
senators
shall
mingle
tears
with
smiles
;
Where
great
patricians
shall
attend
and
shrug
,
I’
th’
end
admire
;
where
ladies
shall
be
frighted
And
,
gladly
quaked
,
hear
more
;
where
the
dull
tribunes
,
That
with
the
fusty
plebeians
hate
thine
honors
,
Shall
say
against
their
hearts
We
thank
the
gods
Our
Rome
hath
such
a
soldier
.
Yet
cam’st
thou
to
a
morsel
of
this
feast
,
Having
fully
dined
before
.
Enter
Titus
Lartius
with
his
power
,
from
the
pursuit
.
O
general
,
Here
is
the
steed
,
we
the
caparison
.
Hadst
thou
beheld
—
Pray
now
,
no
more
.
My
mother
,
Who
has
a
charter
to
extol
her
blood
,
When
she
does
praise
me
grieves
me
.
I
have
done
As
you
have
done
—
that’s
what
I
can
;
Induced
as
you
have
been
—
that’s
for
my
country
.
He
that
has
but
effected
his
good
will
Hath
overta’en
mine
act
.
ACT 1. SC. 9
You
shall
not
be
The
grave
of
your
deserving
.
Rome
must
know
The
value
of
her
own
.
’Twere
a
concealment
Worse
than
a
theft
,
no
less
than
a
traducement
,
To
hide
your
doings
and
to
silence
that
Which
,
to
the
spire
and
top
of
praises
vouched
,
Would
seem
but
modest
.
Therefore
,
I
beseech
you
—
In
sign
of
what
you
are
,
not
to
reward
What
you
have
done
—
before
our
army
hear
me
.
I
have
some
wounds
upon
me
,
and
they
smart
To
hear
themselves
remembered
.
Should
they
not
,
Well
might
they
fester
’gainst
ingratitude
And
tent
themselves
with
death
.
Of
all
the
horses
—
Whereof
we
have
ta’en
good
and
good
store
—
of
all
The
treasure
in
this
field
achieved
and
city
,
We
render
you
the
tenth
,
to
be
ta’en
forth
Before
the
common
distribution
At
your
only
choice
.
I
thank
you
,
general
,
But
cannot
make
my
heart
consent
to
take
A
bribe
to
pay
my
sword
.
I
do
refuse
it
And
stand
upon
my
common
part
with
those
That
have
beheld
the
doing
.
A
long
flourish
.
They
all
cry
Martius
,
Martius
!
and
cast
up
their
caps
and
lances
.
Cominius
and
Lartius
stand
bare
.
May
these
same
instruments
,
which
you
profane
,
Never
sound
more
!
When
drums
and
trumpets
shall
I’
th’
field
prove
flatterers
,
let
courts
and
cities
be
Made
all
of
false-faced
soothing
!
When
steel
grows
Soft
as
the
parasite’s
silk
,
let
him
be
made
An
ovator
for
th’
wars
!
No
more
,
I
say
.
For
that
I
have
not
washed
my
nose
that
bled
,
Or
foiled
some
debile
wretch
—
which
,
without
note
,
ACT 1. SC. 9
Here’s
many
else
have
done
—
you
shout
me
forth
In
acclamations
hyperbolical
,
As
if
I
loved
my
little
should
be
dieted
In
praises
sauced
with
lies
.
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
incensed
,
we’ll
put
you
,
Like
one
that
means
his
proper
harm
,
in
manacles
,
Then
reason
safely
with
you
.
Therefore
be
it
known
,
As
to
us
to
all
the
world
,
that
Caius
Martius
Wears
this
war’s
garland
,
in
token
of
the
which
My
noble
steed
,
known
to
the
camp
,
I
give
him
,
With
all
his
trim
belonging
.
And
from
this
time
,
For
what
he
did
before
Corioles
,
call
him
,
With
all
th’
applause
and
clamor
of
the
host
,
Martius
Caius
Coriolanus
!
Bear
Th’
addition
nobly
ever
!
Flourish
.
Trumpets
sound
,
and
drums
.
Martius
Caius
Coriolanus
!
I
will
go
wash
;
And
when
my
face
is
fair
,
you
shall
perceive
Whether
I
blush
or
no
.
Howbeit
,
I
thank
you
.
I
mean
to
stride
your
steed
and
at
all
times
To
undercrest
your
good
addition
To
th’
fairness
of
my
power
.
So
,
to
our
tent
,
Where
,
ere
we
do
repose
us
,
we
will
write
To
Rome
of
our
success
.
—
You
,
Titus
Lartius
,
Must
to
Corioles
back
.
Send
us
to
Rome
The
best
,
with
whom
we
may
articulate
For
their
own
good
and
ours
.
I
shall
,
my
lord
.
ACT 1. SC. 10
The
gods
begin
to
mock
me
.
I
,
that
now
Refused
most
princely
gifts
,
am
bound
to
beg
Of
my
lord
general
.
Take
’t
,
’tis
yours
.
What
is
’t
?
I
sometime
lay
here
in
Corioles
At
a
poor
man’s
house
;
he
used
me
kindly
.
He
cried
to
me
;
I
saw
him
prisoner
;
But
then
Aufidius
was
within
my
view
,
And
wrath
o’erwhelmed
my
pity
.
I
request
you
To
give
my
poor
host
freedom
.
O
,
well
begged
!
Were
he
the
butcher
of
my
son
,
he
should
Be
free
as
is
the
wind
.
—
Deliver
him
,
Titus
.
Martius
,
his
name
?
By
Jupiter
,
forgot
!
I
am
weary
;
yea
,
my
memory
is
tired
.
Have
we
no
wine
here
?
Go
we
to
our
tent
.
The
blood
upon
your
visage
dries
;
’tis
time
It
should
be
looked
to
.
Come
.
A
flourish
of
cornets
.
They
exit
.
Scene
10
Enter
Tullus
Aufidius
bloody
,
with
two
or
three
Soldiers
.
The
town
is
ta’en
.
’Twill
be
delivered
back
on
good
condition
.
Condition
?
I
would
I
were
a
Roman
,
for
I
cannot
,
Being
a
Volsce
,
be
that
I
am
.
Condition
?
What
good
condition
can
a
treaty
find
ACT 1. SC. 10
I’
th’
part
that
is
at
mercy
?
Five
times
,
Martius
,
I
have
fought
with
thee
;
so
often
hast
thou
beat
me
And
wouldst
do
so
,
I
think
,
should
we
encounter
As
often
as
we
eat
.
By
th’
elements
,
If
e’er
again
I
meet
him
beard
to
beard
,
He’s
mine
,
or
I
am
his
.
Mine
emulation
Hath
not
that
honor
in
’t
it
had
;
for
where
I
thought
to
crush
him
in
an
equal
force
,
True
sword
to
sword
,
I’ll
potch
at
him
some
way
Or
wrath
or
craft
may
get
him
.
He’s
the
devil
.
Bolder
,
though
not
so
subtle
.
My
valor’s
poisoned
With
only
suff’ring
stain
by
him
;
for
him
Shall
fly
out
of
itself
.
Nor
sleep
nor
sanctuary
,
Being
naked
,
sick
,
nor
fane
nor
Capitol
,
The
prayers
of
priests
nor
times
of
sacrifice
,
Embarquements
all
of
fury
,
shall
lift
up
Their
rotten
privilege
and
custom
’gainst
My
hate
to
Martius
.
Where
I
find
him
,
were
it
At
home
,
upon
my
brother’s
guard
,
even
there
,
Against
the
hospitable
canon
,
would
I
Wash
my
fierce
hand
in
’s
heart
.
Go
you
to
th’
city
;
Learn
how
’tis
held
and
what
they
are
that
must
Be
hostages
for
Rome
.
Will
not
you
go
?
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
.
I
shall
,
sir
.
They
exit
,
Aufidius
through
one
door
,
Soldiers
through
another
.
ACT
2
Scene
1
Enter
Menenius
with
the
two
Tribunes
of
the
people
,
Sicinius
and
Brutus
.
The
augurer
tells
me
we
shall
have
news
tonight
.
Good
or
bad
?
Not
according
to
the
prayer
of
the
people
,
for
they
love
not
Martius
.
Nature
teaches
beasts
to
know
their
friends
.
Pray
you
,
who
does
the
wolf
love
?
The
lamb
.
Ay
,
to
devour
him
,
as
the
hungry
plebeians
would
the
noble
Martius
.
He’s
a
lamb
indeed
,
that
baas
like
a
bear
.
He’s
a
bear
indeed
,
that
lives
like
a
lamb
.
You
two
are
old
men
;
tell
me
one
thing
that
I
shall
ask
you
.
Well
,
sir
.
In
what
enormity
is
Martius
poor
in
,
that
you
two
have
not
in
abundance
?
He’s
poor
in
no
one
fault
,
but
stored
with
all
.
Especially
in
pride
.
And
topping
all
others
in
boasting
.
This
is
strange
now
.
Do
you
two
know
how
you
are
censured
here
in
the
city
,
I
mean
of
us
o’
th’
right-hand
file
,
do
you
?
ACT 2. SC. 1
Why
,
how
are
we
censured
?
Because
you
talk
of
pride
now
,
will
you
not
be
angry
?
Well
,
well
,
sir
,
well
?
Why
,
’tis
no
great
matter
;
for
a
very
little
thief
of
occasion
will
rob
you
of
a
great
deal
of
patience
.
Give
your
dispositions
the
reins
,
and
be
angry
at
your
pleasures
,
at
the
least
,
if
you
take
it
as
a
pleasure
to
you
in
being
so
.
You
blame
Martius
for
being
proud
.
We
do
it
not
alone
,
sir
.
I
know
you
can
do
very
little
alone
,
for
your
helps
are
many
,
or
else
your
actions
would
grow
wondrous
single
.
Your
abilities
are
too
infantlike
for
doing
much
alone
.
You
talk
of
pride
.
O
,
that
you
could
turn
your
eyes
toward
the
napes
of
your
necks
and
make
but
an
interior
survey
of
your
good
selves
!
O
,
that
you
could
!
What
then
,
sir
?
Why
,
then
you
should
discover
a
brace
of
unmeriting
,
proud
,
violent
,
testy
magistrates
,
alias
fools
,
as
any
in
Rome
.
Menenius
,
you
are
known
well
enough
,
too
.
I
am
known
to
be
a
humorous
patrician
and
one
that
loves
a
cup
of
hot
wine
with
not
a
drop
of
allaying
Tiber
in
’t
;
said
to
be
something
imperfect
in
favoring
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
wealsmen
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
ACT 2. SC. 1
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
?
Come
,
sir
,
come
;
we
know
you
well
enough
.
You
know
neither
me
,
yourselves
,
nor
anything
.
You
are
ambitious
for
poor
knaves’
caps
and
legs
.
You
wear
out
a
good
wholesome
forenoon
in
hearing
a
cause
between
an
orange-wife
and
a
faucet-seller
,
and
then
rejourn
the
controversy
of
threepence
to
a
second
day
of
audience
.
When
you
are
hearing
a
matter
between
party
and
party
,
if
you
chance
to
be
pinched
with
the
colic
,
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
.
Come
,
come
.
You
are
well
understood
to
be
a
perfecter
giber
for
the
table
than
a
necessary
bencher
in
the
Capitol
.
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
honorable
a
grave
as
to
stuff
a
botcher’s
cushion
or
to
be
entombed
in
an
ass’s
packsaddle
.
Yet
you
must
be
saying
Martius
is
proud
,
who
,
in
a
cheap
estimation
,
is
worth
all
your
predecessors
since
Deucalion
,
though
peradventure
some
of
the
best
of
’em
were
hereditary
ACT 2. SC. 1
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
.
He
begins
to
exit
.
Brutus
and
Sicinius
stand
aside
.
Enter
Volumnia
,
Virgilia
,
and
Valeria
.
How
now
,
my
as
fair
as
noble
ladies
—
and
the
moon
,
were
she
earthly
,
no
nobler
—
whither
do
you
follow
your
eyes
so
fast
?
Honorable
Menenius
,
my
boy
Martius
approaches
.
For
the
love
of
Juno
,
let’s
go
!
Ha
?
Martius
coming
home
?
Ay
,
worthy
Menenius
,
and
with
most
prosperous
approbation
.
Take
my
cap
,
Jupiter
,
and
I
thank
thee
!
(
He
throws
his
cap
in
the
air
.
)
Hoo
!
Martius
coming
home
?
Nay
,
’tis
true
.
Look
,
here’s
a
letter
from
him
.
She
produces
a
paper
.
The
state
hath
another
,
his
wife
another
,
and
I
think
there’s
one
at
home
for
you
.
I
will
make
my
very
house
reel
tonight
.
A
letter
for
me
?
Yes
,
certain
,
there’s
a
letter
for
you
;
I
saw
’t
.
A
letter
for
me
?
It
gives
me
an
estate
of
seven
years’
health
,
in
which
time
I
will
make
a
lip
at
the
physician
.
The
most
sovereign
prescription
in
Galen
is
but
empiricutic
and
,
to
this
preservative
,
of
no
better
report
than
a
horse
drench
.
Is
he
not
wounded
?
He
was
wont
to
come
home
wounded
.
O
no
,
no
,
no
!
O
,
he
is
wounded
,
I
thank
the
gods
for
’t
.
So
do
I
too
,
if
it
be
not
too
much
.
Brings
he
victory
in
his
pocket
,
the
wounds
become
him
.
ACT 2. SC. 1
On
’s
brows
,
Menenius
.
He
comes
the
third
time
home
with
the
oaken
garland
.
Has
he
disciplined
Aufidius
soundly
?
Titus
Lartius
writes
they
fought
together
,
but
Aufidius
got
off
.
And
’twas
time
for
him
too
,
I’ll
warrant
him
that
.
An
he
had
stayed
by
him
,
I
would
not
have
been
so
’fidiused
for
all
the
chests
in
Corioles
and
the
gold
that’s
in
them
.
Is
the
Senate
possessed
of
this
?
Good
ladies
,
let’s
go
.
—
Yes
,
yes
,
yes
.
The
Senate
has
letters
from
the
General
,
wherein
he
gives
my
son
the
whole
name
of
the
war
.
He
hath
in
this
action
outdone
his
former
deeds
doubly
.
In
troth
,
there’s
wondrous
things
spoke
of
him
.
Wondrous
?
Ay
,
I
warrant
you
,
and
not
without
his
true
purchasing
.
The
gods
grant
them
true
.
True
?
Pow
waw
!
True
?
I’ll
be
sworn
they
are
true
.
Where
is
he
wounded
?
(
To
the
Tribunes
.
)
God
save
your
good
Worships
!
Martius
is
coming
home
;
he
has
more
cause
to
be
proud
.
—
Where
is
he
wounded
?
I’
th’
shoulder
and
i’
th’
left
arm
.
There
will
be
large
cicatrices
to
show
the
people
when
he
shall
stand
for
his
place
.
He
received
in
the
repulse
of
Tarquin
seven
hurts
i’
th’
body
.
One
i’
th’
neck
and
two
i’
th’
thigh
—
there’s
nine
that
I
know
.
He
had
,
before
this
last
expedition
,
twenty-five
wounds
upon
him
.
Now
it’s
twenty-seven
.
Every
gash
was
an
enemy’s
grave
.
(
A
shout
and
flourish
.
)
Hark
,
the
trumpets
!
ACT 2. SC. 1
These
are
the
ushers
of
Martius
:
before
him
he
carries
noise
,
and
behind
him
he
leaves
tears
.
Death
,
that
dark
spirit
,
in
’s
nervy
arm
doth
lie
,
Which
,
being
advanced
,
declines
,
and
then
men
die
.
A
sennet
.
Enter
Cominius
the
General
and
Titus
Lartius
,
between
them
Coriolanus
crowned
with
an
oaken
garland
,
with
Captains
and
Soldiers
and
a
Herald
.
Trumpets
sound
.
Know
,
Rome
,
that
all
alone
Martius
did
fight
Within
Corioles’
gates
,
where
he
hath
won
,
With
fame
,
a
name
to
Martius
Caius
;
these
In
honor
follows
Coriolanus
.
Welcome
to
Rome
,
renownèd
Coriolanus
.
Sound
flourish
.
Welcome
to
Rome
,
renownèd
Coriolanus
!
No
more
of
this
.
It
does
offend
my
heart
.
Pray
now
,
no
more
.
Look
,
sir
,
your
mother
.
O
,
You
have
,
I
know
,
petitioned
all
the
gods
For
my
prosperity
.
Kneels
.
Nay
,
my
good
soldier
,
up
.
He
stands
.
My
gentle
Martius
,
worthy
Caius
,
and
By
deed-achieving
honor
newly
named
—
What
is
it
?
Coriolanus
must
I
call
thee
?
But
,
O
,
thy
wife
—
My
gracious
silence
,
hail
.
Wouldst
thou
have
laughed
had
I
come
coffined
home
,
That
weep’st
to
see
me
triumph
?
Ah
,
my
dear
,
ACT 2. SC. 1
Such
eyes
the
widows
in
Corioles
wear
And
mothers
that
lack
sons
.
Now
the
gods
crown
thee
!
And
live
you
yet
?
(
To
Valeria
.
)
O
,
my
sweet
lady
,
pardon
.
I
know
not
where
to
turn
.
O
,
welcome
home
!
—
And
,
welcome
,
general
.
—
And
you’re
welcome
all
.
A
hundred
thousand
welcomes
!
I
could
weep
,
And
I
could
laugh
;
I
am
light
and
heavy
.
Welcome
.
A
curse
begin
at
very
root
on
’s
heart
That
is
not
glad
to
see
thee
!
You
are
three
That
Rome
should
dote
on
;
yet
,
by
the
faith
of
men
,
We
have
some
old
crab
trees
here
at
home
that
will
not
Be
grafted
to
your
relish
.
Yet
welcome
,
warriors
!
We
call
a
nettle
but
a
nettle
,
and
The
faults
of
fools
but
folly
.
Ever
right
.
Menenius
ever
,
ever
.
Give
way
there
,
and
go
on
!
,
to
Volumnia
and
Virgilia
Your
hand
and
yours
.
Ere
in
our
own
house
I
do
shade
my
head
,
The
good
patricians
must
be
visited
,
From
whom
I
have
received
not
only
greetings
,
But
with
them
change
of
honors
.
I
have
lived
To
see
inherited
my
very
wishes
And
the
buildings
of
my
fancy
.
Only
There’s
one
thing
wanting
,
which
I
doubt
not
but
Our
Rome
will
cast
upon
thee
.
ACT 2. SC. 1
Know
,
good
mother
,
I
had
rather
be
their
servant
in
my
way
Than
sway
with
them
in
theirs
.
On
,
to
the
Capitol
.
Flourish
of
cornets
.
They
exit
in
state
,
as
before
.
Brutus
and
Sicinius
come
forward
.
All
tongues
speak
of
him
,
and
the
blearèd
sights
Are
spectacled
to
see
him
.
Your
prattling
nurse
Into
a
rapture
lets
her
baby
cry
While
she
chats
him
.
The
kitchen
malkin
pins
Her
richest
lockram
’bout
her
reechy
neck
,
Clamb’ring
the
walls
to
eye
him
.
Stalls
,
bulks
,
windows
Are
smothered
up
,
leads
filled
,
and
ridges
horsed
With
variable
complexions
,
all
agreeing
In
earnestness
to
see
him
.
Seld-shown
flamens
Do
press
among
the
popular
throngs
and
puff
To
win
a
vulgar
station
.
Our
veiled
dames
Commit
the
war
of
white
and
damask
in
Their
nicely-gauded
cheeks
to
th’
wanton
spoil
Of
Phoebus’
burning
kisses
.
Such
a
pother
,
As
if
that
whatsoever
god
who
leads
him
Were
slyly
crept
into
his
human
powers
And
gave
him
graceful
posture
.
On
the
sudden
I
warrant
him
consul
.
Then
our
office
may
,
During
his
power
,
go
sleep
.
He
cannot
temp’rately
transport
his
honors
From
where
he
should
begin
and
end
,
but
will
Lose
those
he
hath
won
.
In
that
there’s
comfort
.
ACT 2. SC. 1
Doubt
not
The
commoners
,
for
whom
we
stand
,
but
they
Upon
their
ancient
malice
will
forget
With
the
least
cause
these
his
new
honors
—
which
That
he
will
give
them
make
I
as
little
question
As
he
is
proud
to
do
’t
.
I
heard
him
swear
,
Were
he
to
stand
for
consul
,
never
would
he
Appear
i’
th’
marketplace
nor
on
him
put
The
napless
vesture
of
humility
,
Nor
showing
,
as
the
manner
is
,
his
wounds
To
th’
people
,
beg
their
stinking
breaths
.
’Tis
right
.
It
was
his
word
.
O
,
he
would
miss
it
rather
Than
carry
it
but
by
the
suit
of
the
gentry
to
him
And
the
desire
of
the
nobles
.
I
wish
no
better
Than
have
him
hold
that
purpose
and
to
put
it
In
execution
.
’Tis
most
like
he
will
.
It
shall
be
to
him
then
as
our
good
wills
,
A
sure
destruction
.
So
it
must
fall
out
To
him
,
or
our
authority’s
for
an
end
.
We
must
suggest
the
people
in
what
hatred
He
still
hath
held
them
;
that
to
’s
power
he
would
Have
made
them
mules
,
silenced
their
pleaders
,
and
Dispropertied
their
freedoms
;
holding
them
In
human
action
and
capacity
Of
no
more
soul
nor
fitness
for
the
world
Than
camels
in
their
war
,
who
have
their
provand
Only
for
bearing
burdens
,
and
sore
blows
For
sinking
under
them
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
This
,
as
you
say
,
suggested
At
some
time
when
his
soaring
insolence
Shall
touch
the
people
—
which
time
shall
not
want
If
he
be
put
upon
’t
,
and
that’s
as
easy
As
to
set
dogs
on
sheep
—
will
be
his
fire
To
kindle
their
dry
stubble
,
and
their
blaze
Shall
darken
him
forever
.
Enter
a
Messenger
.
What’s
the
matter
?
You
are
sent
for
to
the
Capitol
.
’Tis
thought
That
Martius
shall
be
consul
.
I
have
seen
The
dumb
men
throng
to
see
him
,
and
the
blind
To
hear
him
speak
;
matrons
flung
gloves
,
Ladies
and
maids
their
scarves
and
handkerchiefs
,
Upon
him
as
he
passed
;
the
nobles
bended
As
to
Jove’s
statue
,
and
the
Commons
made
A
shower
and
thunder
with
their
caps
and
shouts
.
I
never
saw
the
like
.
Let’s
to
the
Capitol
,
And
carry
with
us
ears
and
eyes
for
th’
time
,
But
hearts
for
the
event
.
Have
with
you
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
two
Officers
,
to
lay
cushions
,
as
it
were
in
the
Capitol
.
Come
,
come
.
They
are
almost
here
.
How
many
stand
for
consulships
?
Three
,
they
say
;
but
’tis
thought
of
everyone
Coriolanus
will
carry
it
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
That’s
a
brave
fellow
,
but
he’s
vengeance
proud
and
loves
not
the
common
people
.
’Faith
,
there
hath
been
many
great
men
that
have
flattered
the
people
who
ne’er
loved
them
;
and
there
be
many
that
they
have
loved
they
know
not
wherefore
;
so
that
,
if
they
love
they
know
not
why
,
they
hate
upon
no
better
a
ground
.
Therefore
,
for
Coriolanus
neither
to
care
whether
they
love
or
hate
him
manifests
the
true
knowledge
he
has
in
their
disposition
and
,
out
of
his
noble
carelessness
,
lets
them
plainly
see
’t
.
If
he
did
not
care
whether
he
had
their
love
or
no
,
he
waved
indifferently
’twixt
doing
them
neither
good
nor
harm
;
but
he
seeks
their
hate
with
greater
devotion
than
they
can
render
it
him
and
leaves
nothing
undone
that
may
fully
discover
him
their
opposite
.
Now
,
to
seem
to
affect
the
malice
and
displeasure
of
the
people
is
as
bad
as
that
which
he
dislikes
,
to
flatter
them
for
their
love
.
He
hath
deserved
worthily
of
his
country
,
and
his
ascent
is
not
by
such
easy
degrees
as
those
who
,
having
been
supple
and
courteous
to
the
people
,
bonneted
,
without
any
further
deed
to
have
them
at
all
into
their
estimation
and
report
;
but
he
hath
so
planted
his
honors
in
their
eyes
and
his
actions
in
their
hearts
that
for
their
tongues
to
be
silent
and
not
confess
so
much
were
a
kind
of
ingrateful
injury
.
To
report
otherwise
were
a
malice
that
,
giving
itself
the
lie
,
would
pluck
reproof
and
rebuke
from
every
ear
that
heard
it
.
No
more
of
him
;
he’s
a
worthy
man
.
Make
way
.
They
are
coming
.
A
sennet
.
Enter
the
Patricians
and
the
Tribunes
of
the
people
,
Lictors
before
them
;
Coriolanus
,
Menenius
,
Cominius
the
consul
.
The
Patricians
sit
.
Sicinius
ACT 2. SC. 2
and
Brutus
take
their
places
by
themselves
.
Coriolanus
stands
.
Having
determined
of
the
Volsces
and
To
send
for
Titus
Lartius
,
it
remains
,
As
the
main
point
of
this
our
after-meeting
,
To
gratify
his
noble
service
that
Hath
thus
stood
for
his
country
.
Therefore
please
you
,
Most
reverend
and
grave
elders
,
to
desire
The
present
consul
and
last
general
In
our
well-found
successes
to
report
A
little
of
that
worthy
work
performed
By
Martius
Caius
Coriolanus
,
whom
We
met
here
both
to
thank
and
to
remember
With
honors
like
himself
.
Coriolanus
sits
.
Speak
,
good
Cominius
.
Leave
nothing
out
for
length
,
and
make
us
think
Rather
our
state’s
defective
for
requital
,
Than
we
to
stretch
it
out
.
(
To
the
Tribunes
.
)
Masters
o’
th’
people
,
We
do
request
your
kindest
ears
and
,
after
,
Your
loving
motion
toward
the
common
body
To
yield
what
passes
here
.
We
are
convented
Upon
a
pleasing
treaty
and
have
hearts
Inclinable
to
honor
and
advance
The
theme
of
our
assembly
.
Which
the
rather
We
shall
be
blest
to
do
if
he
remember
A
kinder
value
of
the
people
than
He
hath
hereto
prized
them
at
.
That’s
off
,
that’s
off
!
I
would
you
rather
had
been
silent
.
Please
you
To
hear
Cominius
speak
?
ACT 2. SC. 2
Most
willingly
,
But
yet
my
caution
was
more
pertinent
Than
the
rebuke
you
give
it
.
He
loves
your
people
,
But
tie
him
not
to
be
their
bedfellow
.
—
Worthy
Cominius
,
speak
.
Coriolanus
rises
and
offers
to
go
away
.
Nay
,
keep
your
place
.
Sit
,
Coriolanus
.
Never
shame
to
hear
What
you
have
nobly
done
.
Your
Honors
,
pardon
.
I
had
rather
have
my
wounds
to
heal
again
Than
hear
say
how
I
got
them
.
Sir
,
I
hope
My
words
disbenched
you
not
?
No
,
sir
.
Yet
oft
,
When
blows
have
made
me
stay
,
I
fled
from
words
.
You
soothed
not
,
therefore
hurt
not
;
but
your
people
,
I
love
them
as
they
weigh
.
Pray
now
,
sit
down
.
I
had
rather
have
one
scratch
my
head
i’
th’
sun
When
the
alarum
were
struck
than
idly
sit
To
hear
my
nothings
monstered
.
Coriolanus
exits
.
Masters
of
the
people
,
Your
multiplying
spawn
how
can
he
flatter
—
That’s
thousand
to
one
good
one
—
when
you
now
see
He
had
rather
venture
all
his
limbs
for
honor
Than
one
on
’s
ears
to
hear
it
.
—
Proceed
,
Cominius
.
I
shall
lack
voice
.
The
deeds
of
Coriolanus
Should
not
be
uttered
feebly
.
It
is
held
That
valor
is
the
chiefest
virtue
and
ACT 2. SC. 2
Most
dignifies
the
haver
;
if
it
be
,
The
man
I
speak
of
cannot
in
the
world
Be
singly
counterpoised
.
At
sixteen
years
,
When
Tarquin
made
a
head
for
Rome
,
he
fought
Beyond
the
mark
of
others
.
Our
then
dictator
,
Whom
with
all
praise
I
point
at
,
saw
him
fight
When
with
his
Amazonian
chin
he
drove
The
bristled
lips
before
him
.
He
bestrid
An
o’erpressed
Roman
and
i’
th’
Consul’s
view
Slew
three
opposers
.
Tarquin’s
self
he
met
And
struck
him
on
his
knee
.
In
that
day’s
feats
,
When
he
might
act
the
woman
in
the
scene
,
He
proved
best
man
i’
th’
field
and
for
his
meed
Was
brow-bound
with
the
oak
.
His
pupil
age
Man-entered
thus
,
he
waxèd
like
a
sea
,
And
in
the
brunt
of
seventeen
battles
since
He
lurched
all
swords
of
the
garland
.
For
this
last
,
Before
and
in
Corioles
,
let
me
say
,
I
cannot
speak
him
home
.
He
stopped
the
flyers
And
by
his
rare
example
made
the
coward
Turn
terror
into
sport
.
As
weeds
before
A
vessel
under
sail
,
so
men
obeyed
And
fell
below
his
stem
.
His
sword
,
Death’s
stamp
,
Where
it
did
mark
,
it
took
;
from
face
to
foot
He
was
a
thing
of
blood
,
whose
every
motion
Was
timed
with
dying
cries
.
Alone
he
entered
The
mortal
gate
o’
th’
city
,
which
he
painted
With
shunless
destiny
;
aidless
came
off
And
with
a
sudden
reinforcement
struck
Corioles
like
a
planet
.
Now
all’s
his
,
When
by
and
by
the
din
of
war
gan
pierce
His
ready
sense
;
then
straight
his
doubled
spirit
Requickened
what
in
flesh
was
fatigate
,
And
to
the
battle
came
he
,
where
he
did
Run
reeking
o’er
the
lives
of
men
as
if
’Twere
a
perpetual
spoil
;
and
till
we
called
ACT 2. SC. 2
Both
field
and
city
ours
,
he
never
stood
To
ease
his
breast
with
panting
.
Worthy
man
!
He
cannot
but
with
measure
fit
the
honors
Which
we
devise
him
.
Our
spoils
he
kicked
at
And
looked
upon
things
precious
as
they
were
The
common
muck
of
the
world
.
He
covets
less
Than
misery
itself
would
give
,
rewards
His
deeds
with
doing
them
,
and
is
content
To
spend
the
time
to
end
it
.
He’s
right
noble
.
Let
him
be
called
for
.
Call
Coriolanus
.
He
doth
appear
.
Enter
Coriolanus
.
The
Senate
,
Coriolanus
,
are
well
pleased
To
make
thee
consul
.
I
do
owe
them
still
My
life
and
services
.
It
then
remains
That
you
do
speak
to
the
people
.
I
do
beseech
you
,
Let
me
o’erleap
that
custom
,
for
I
cannot
Put
on
the
gown
,
stand
naked
,
and
entreat
them
For
my
wounds’
sake
to
give
their
suffrage
.
Please
you
That
I
may
pass
this
doing
.
Sir
,
the
people
Must
have
their
voices
;
neither
will
they
bate
One
jot
of
ceremony
.
,
to
Coriolanus
Put
them
not
to
’t
.
Pray
you
,
go
fit
you
to
the
custom
,
and
ACT 2. SC. 3
Take
to
you
,
as
your
predecessors
have
,
Your
honor
with
your
form
.
It
is
a
part
That
I
shall
blush
in
acting
,
and
might
well
Be
taken
from
the
people
.
,
to
Sicinius
Mark
you
that
?
To
brag
unto
them
Thus
I
did
,
and
thus
!
Show
them
th’
unaching
scars
,
which
I
should
hide
,
As
if
I
had
received
them
for
the
hire
Of
their
breath
only
!
Do
not
stand
upon
’t
.
—
We
recommend
to
you
,
tribunes
of
the
people
,
Our
purpose
to
them
,
and
to
our
noble
consul
Wish
we
all
joy
and
honor
.
To
Coriolanus
come
all
joy
and
honor
!
Flourish
cornets
.
Then
they
exit
.
Sicinius
and
Brutus
remain
.
You
see
how
he
intends
to
use
the
people
.
May
they
perceive
’s
intent
!
He
will
require
them
As
if
he
did
contemn
what
he
requested
Should
be
in
them
to
give
.
Come
,
we’ll
inform
them
Of
our
proceedings
here
.
On
th’
marketplace
I
know
they
do
attend
us
.
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Enter
seven
or
eight
Citizens
.
Once
,
if
he
do
require
our
voices
,
we
ought
not
to
deny
him
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
We
may
,
sir
,
if
we
will
.
We
have
power
in
ourselves
to
do
it
,
but
it
is
a
power
that
we
have
no
power
to
do
;
for
,
if
he
show
us
his
wounds
and
tell
us
his
deeds
,
we
are
to
put
our
tongues
into
those
wounds
and
speak
for
them
.
So
,
if
he
tell
us
his
noble
deeds
,
we
must
also
tell
him
our
noble
acceptance
of
them
.
Ingratitude
is
monstrous
,
and
for
the
multitude
to
be
ingrateful
were
to
make
a
monster
of
the
multitude
,
of
the
which
,
we
being
members
,
should
bring
ourselves
to
be
monstrous
members
.
And
to
make
us
no
better
thought
of
,
a
little
help
will
serve
;
for
once
we
stood
up
about
the
corn
,
he
himself
stuck
not
to
call
us
the
many-headed
multitude
.
We
have
been
called
so
of
many
;
not
that
our
heads
are
some
brown
,
some
black
,
some
abram
,
some
bald
,
but
that
our
wits
are
so
diversely
colored
;
and
truly
I
think
if
all
our
wits
were
to
issue
out
of
one
skull
,
they
would
fly
east
,
west
,
north
,
south
,
and
their
consent
of
one
direct
way
should
be
at
once
to
all
the
points
o’
th’
compass
.
Think
you
so
?
Which
way
do
you
judge
my
wit
would
fly
?
Nay
,
your
wit
will
not
so
soon
out
as
another
man’s
will
;
’tis
strongly
wedged
up
in
a
blockhead
.
But
if
it
were
at
liberty
,
’twould
sure
southward
.
Why
that
way
?
To
lose
itself
in
a
fog
,
where
,
being
three
parts
melted
away
with
rotten
dews
,
the
fourth
would
return
for
conscience’
sake
,
to
help
to
get
thee
a
wife
.
You
are
never
without
your
tricks
.
You
may
,
you
may
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Are
you
all
resolved
to
give
your
voices
?
But
that’s
no
matter
;
the
greater
part
carries
it
.
I
say
,
if
he
would
incline
to
the
people
,
there
was
never
a
worthier
man
.
Enter
Coriolanus
in
a
gown
of
humility
,
with
Menenius
.
Here
he
comes
,
and
in
the
gown
of
humility
.
Mark
his
behavior
.
We
are
not
to
stay
all
together
,
but
to
come
by
him
where
he
stands
,
by
ones
,
by
twos
,
and
by
threes
.
He’s
to
make
his
requests
by
particulars
,
wherein
every
one
of
us
has
a
single
honor
in
giving
him
our
own
voices
with
our
own
tongues
.
Therefore
follow
me
,
and
I’ll
direct
you
how
you
shall
go
by
him
.
Content
,
content
.
Citizens
exit
.
O
sir
,
you
are
not
right
.
Have
you
not
known
The
worthiest
men
have
done
’t
?
What
must
I
say
?
I
pray
,
sir
?
—
plague
upon
’t
!
I
cannot
bring
My
tongue
to
such
a
pace
.
Look
,
sir
,
my
wounds
!
I
got
them
in
my
country’s
service
when
Some
certain
of
your
brethren
roared
and
ran
From
th’
noise
of
our
own
drums
.
O
me
,
the
gods
!
You
must
not
speak
of
that
.
You
must
desire
them
To
think
upon
you
.
Think
upon
me
?
Hang
’em
!
I
would
they
would
forget
me
,
like
the
virtues
Which
our
divines
lose
by
’em
.
You’ll
mar
all
.
I’ll
leave
you
.
Pray
you
,
speak
to
’em
,
I
pray
you
,
In
wholesome
manner
.
He
exits
.
Bid
them
wash
their
faces
And
keep
their
teeth
clean
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Enter
three
of
the
Citizens
.
So
,
here
comes
a
brace
.
—
You
know
the
cause
,
sir
,
of
my
standing
here
.
We
do
,
sir
.
Tell
us
what
hath
brought
you
to
’t
.
Mine
own
desert
.
Your
own
desert
?
Ay
,
but
not
mine
own
desire
.
How
,
not
your
own
desire
?
No
,
sir
,
’twas
never
my
desire
yet
to
trouble
the
poor
with
begging
.
You
must
think
if
we
give
you
anything
,
we
hope
to
gain
by
you
.
Well
then
,
I
pray
,
your
price
o’
th’
consulship
?
The
price
is
to
ask
it
kindly
.
Kindly
,
sir
,
I
pray
,
let
me
ha
’t
.
I
have
wounds
to
show
you
,
which
shall
be
yours
in
private
.
—
Your
good
voice
,
sir
.
What
say
you
?
You
shall
ha
’t
,
worthy
sir
.
A
match
,
sir
.
There’s
in
all
two
worthy
voices
begged
.
I
have
your
alms
.
Adieu
.
,
to
the
other
Citizens
But
this
is
something
odd
.
An
’twere
to
give
again
—
but
’tis
no
matter
.
These
citizens
exit
.
Enter
two
other
Citizens
.
Pray
you
now
,
if
it
may
stand
with
the
tune
of
your
voices
that
I
may
be
consul
,
I
have
here
the
customary
gown
.
You
have
deserved
nobly
of
your
country
,
and
you
have
not
deserved
nobly
.
Your
enigma
?
ACT 2. SC. 3
You
have
been
a
scourge
to
her
enemies
;
you
have
been
a
rod
to
her
friends
.
You
have
not
indeed
loved
the
common
people
.
You
should
account
me
the
more
virtuous
that
I
have
not
been
common
in
my
love
.
I
will
,
sir
,
flatter
my
sworn
brother
,
the
people
,
to
earn
a
dearer
estimation
of
them
;
’tis
a
condition
they
account
gentle
.
And
since
the
wisdom
of
their
choice
is
rather
to
have
my
hat
than
my
heart
,
I
will
practice
the
insinuating
nod
and
be
off
to
them
most
counterfeitly
.
That
is
,
sir
,
I
will
counterfeit
the
bewitchment
of
some
popular
man
and
give
it
bountiful
to
the
desirers
.
Therefore
,
beseech
you
,
I
may
be
consul
.
We
hope
to
find
you
our
friend
,
and
therefore
give
you
our
voices
heartily
.
You
have
received
many
wounds
for
your
country
.
I
will
not
seal
your
knowledge
with
showing
them
.
I
will
make
much
of
your
voices
and
so
trouble
you
no
farther
.
The
gods
give
you
joy
,
sir
,
heartily
.
Citizens
exit
.
Most
sweet
voices
!
Better
it
is
to
die
,
better
to
starve
,
Than
crave
the
hire
which
first
we
do
deserve
.
Why
in
this
woolvish
toge
should
I
stand
here
To
beg
of
Hob
and
Dick
that
does
appear
Their
needless
vouches
?
Custom
calls
me
to
’t
.
What
custom
wills
,
in
all
things
should
we
do
’t
?
The
dust
on
antique
time
would
lie
unswept
And
mountainous
error
be
too
highly
heaped
For
truth
to
o’erpeer
.
Rather
than
fool
it
so
,
Let
the
high
office
and
the
honor
go
To
one
that
would
do
thus
.
I
am
half
through
;
The
one
part
suffered
,
the
other
will
I
do
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Enter
three
Citizens
more
.
Here
come
more
voices
.
—
Your
voices
!
For
your
voices
I
have
fought
;
Watched
for
your
voices
;
for
your
voices
bear
Of
wounds
two
dozen
odd
.
Battles
thrice
six
I
have
seen
and
heard
of
;
for
your
voices
have
Done
many
things
,
some
less
,
some
more
.
Your
voices
!
Indeed
,
I
would
be
consul
.
He
has
done
nobly
,
and
cannot
go
without
any
honest
man’s
voice
.
Therefore
let
him
be
consul
.
The
gods
give
him
joy
,
and
make
him
good
friend
to
the
people
!
Amen
,
amen
.
God
save
thee
,
noble
consul
.
Citizens
exit
.
Worthy
voices
!
Enter
Menenius
,
with
Brutus
and
Sicinius
.
You
have
stood
your
limitation
,
and
the
Tribunes
Endue
you
with
the
people’s
voice
.
Remains
That
in
th’
official
marks
invested
,
you
Anon
do
meet
the
Senate
.
Is
this
done
?
The
custom
of
request
you
have
discharged
.
The
people
do
admit
you
,
and
are
summoned
To
meet
anon
upon
your
approbation
.
Where
?
At
the
Senate
House
?
There
,
Coriolanus
.
May
I
change
these
garments
?
You
may
,
sir
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
That
I’ll
straight
do
and
,
knowing
myself
again
,
Repair
to
th’
Senate
House
.
I’ll
keep
you
company
.
—
Will
you
along
?
We
stay
here
for
the
people
.
Fare
you
well
.
Coriolanus
and
Menenius
exit
.
He
has
it
now
;
and
by
his
looks
,
methinks
,
’Tis
warm
at
’s
heart
.
With
a
proud
heart
he
wore
His
humble
weeds
.
Will
you
dismiss
the
people
?
Enter
the
Plebeians
.
How
now
,
my
masters
,
have
you
chose
this
man
?
He
has
our
voices
,
sir
.
We
pray
the
gods
he
may
deserve
your
loves
.
Amen
,
sir
.
To
my
poor
unworthy
notice
,
He
mocked
us
when
he
begged
our
voices
.
Certainly
,
he
flouted
us
downright
.
No
,
’tis
his
kind
of
speech
.
He
did
not
mock
us
.
Not
one
amongst
us
,
save
yourself
,
but
says
He
used
us
scornfully
.
He
should
have
showed
us
His
marks
of
merit
,
wounds
received
for
’s
country
.
Why
,
so
he
did
,
I
am
sure
.
No
,
no
.
No
man
saw
’em
.
He
said
he
had
wounds
,
which
he
could
show
in
private
,
ACT 2. SC. 3
And
with
his
hat
,
thus
waving
it
in
scorn
,
I
would
be
consul
,
says
he
.
Agèd
custom
,
But
by
your
voices
,
will
not
so
permit
me
;
Your
voices
therefore
.
When
we
granted
that
,
Here
was
I
thank
you
for
your
voices
.
Thank
you
.
Your
most
sweet
voices
!
Now
you
have
left
your
voices
,
I
have
no
further
with
you
.
Was
not
this
mockery
?
Why
either
were
you
ignorant
to
see
’t
Or
,
seeing
it
,
of
such
childish
friendliness
To
yield
your
voices
?
Could
you
not
have
told
him
As
you
were
lessoned
?
When
he
had
no
power
,
But
was
a
petty
servant
to
the
state
,
He
was
your
enemy
,
ever
spake
against
Your
liberties
and
the
charters
that
you
bear
I’
th’
body
of
the
weal
;
and
,
now
arriving
A
place
of
potency
and
sway
o’
th’
state
,
If
he
should
still
malignantly
remain
Fast
foe
to
th’
plebeii
,
your
voices
might
Be
curses
to
yourselves
.
You
should
have
said
That
as
his
worthy
deeds
did
claim
no
less
Than
what
he
stood
for
,
so
his
gracious
nature
Would
think
upon
you
for
your
voices
,
and
Translate
his
malice
towards
you
into
love
,
Standing
your
friendly
lord
.
Thus
to
have
said
,
As
you
were
fore-advised
,
had
touched
his
spirit
And
tried
his
inclination
;
from
him
plucked
Either
his
gracious
promise
,
which
you
might
,
As
cause
had
called
you
up
,
have
held
him
to
;
Or
else
it
would
have
galled
his
surly
nature
,
Which
easily
endures
not
article
Tying
him
to
aught
.
So
putting
him
to
rage
,
ACT 2. SC. 3
You
should
have
ta’en
th’
advantage
of
his
choler
And
passed
him
unelected
.
Did
you
perceive
He
did
solicit
you
in
free
contempt
When
he
did
need
your
loves
,
and
do
you
think
That
his
contempt
shall
not
be
bruising
to
you
When
he
hath
power
to
crush
?
Why
,
had
your
bodies
No
heart
among
you
?
Or
had
you
tongues
to
cry
Against
the
rectorship
of
judgment
?
Have
you
ere
now
denied
the
asker
?
And
now
Again
,
of
him
that
did
not
ask
but
mock
,
Bestow
your
sued-for
tongues
?
He’s
not
confirmed
.
We
may
deny
him
yet
.
And
will
deny
him
.
I’ll
have
five
hundred
voices
of
that
sound
.
I
twice
five
hundred
,
and
their
friends
to
piece
’em
.
Get
you
hence
instantly
,
and
tell
those
friends
They
have
chose
a
consul
that
will
from
them
take
Their
liberties
,
make
them
of
no
more
voice
Than
dogs
that
are
as
often
beat
for
barking
As
therefor
kept
to
do
so
.
Let
them
assemble
And
,
on
a
safer
judgment
,
all
revoke
Your
ignorant
election
.
Enforce
his
pride
And
his
old
hate
unto
you
.
Besides
,
forget
not
With
what
contempt
he
wore
the
humble
weed
,
How
in
his
suit
he
scorned
you
;
but
your
loves
,
Thinking
upon
his
services
,
took
from
you
Th’
apprehension
of
his
present
portance
,
Which
most
gibingly
,
ungravely
,
he
did
fashion
After
the
inveterate
hate
he
bears
you
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Lay
A
fault
on
us
,
your
tribunes
,
that
we
labored
,
No
impediment
between
,
but
that
you
must
Cast
your
election
on
him
.
Say
you
chose
him
More
after
our
commandment
than
as
guided
By
your
own
true
affections
,
and
that
your
minds
,
Preoccupied
with
what
you
rather
must
do
Than
what
you
should
,
made
you
against
the
grain
To
voice
him
consul
.
Lay
the
fault
on
us
.
Ay
,
spare
us
not
.
Say
we
read
lectures
to
you
,
How
youngly
he
began
to
serve
his
country
,
How
long
continued
,
and
what
stock
he
springs
of
,
The
noble
house
o’
th’
Martians
,
from
whence
came
That
Ancus
Martius
,
Numa’s
daughter’s
son
,
Who
after
great
Hostilius
here
was
king
,
Of
the
same
house
Publius
and
Quintus
were
,
That
our
best
water
brought
by
conduits
hither
;
And
Censorinus
,
that
was
so
surnamed
,
And
nobly
namèd
so
,
twice
being
censor
,
Was
his
great
ancestor
.
One
thus
descended
,
That
hath
besides
well
in
his
person
wrought
To
be
set
high
in
place
,
we
did
commend
To
your
remembrances
;
but
you
have
found
,
Scaling
his
present
bearing
with
his
past
,
That
he’s
your
fixèd
enemy
,
and
revoke
Your
sudden
approbation
.
Say
you
ne’er
had
done
’t
—
Harp
on
that
still
—
but
by
our
putting
on
.
And
presently
,
when
you
have
drawn
your
number
,
Repair
to
th’
Capitol
.
We
will
so
.
Almost
all
Repent
in
their
election
.
Plebeians
exit
.
Let
them
go
on
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
This
mutiny
were
better
put
in
hazard
Than
stay
,
past
doubt
,
for
greater
.
If
,
as
his
nature
is
,
he
fall
in
rage
With
their
refusal
,
both
observe
and
answer
The
vantage
of
his
anger
.
To
th’
Capitol
,
come
.
We
will
be
there
before
the
stream
o’
th’
people
,
And
this
shall
seem
,
as
partly
’tis
,
their
own
,
Which
we
have
goaded
onward
.
They
exit
.
ACT
3
Scene
1
Cornets
.
Enter
Coriolanus
,
Menenius
,
all
the
Gentry
,
Cominius
,
Titus
Lartius
,
and
other
Senators
.
Tullus
Aufidius
then
had
made
new
head
?
He
had
,
my
lord
,
and
that
it
was
which
caused
Our
swifter
composition
.
So
then
the
Volsces
stand
but
as
at
first
,
Ready
,
when
time
shall
prompt
them
,
to
make
road
Upon
’s
again
.
They
are
worn
,
lord
consul
,
so
,
That
we
shall
hardly
in
our
ages
see
Their
banners
wave
again
.
Saw
you
Aufidius
?
On
safeguard
he
came
to
me
,
and
did
curse
Against
the
Volsces
,
for
they
had
so
vilely
Yielded
the
town
.
He
is
retired
to
Antium
.
Spoke
he
of
me
?
He
did
,
my
lord
.
How
?
What
?
How
often
he
had
met
you
sword
to
sword
;
ACT 3. SC. 1
That
of
all
things
upon
the
earth
he
hated
Your
person
most
;
that
he
would
pawn
his
fortunes
To
hopeless
restitution
,
so
he
might
Be
called
your
vanquisher
.
At
Antium
lives
he
?
At
Antium
.
I
wish
I
had
a
cause
to
seek
him
there
,
To
oppose
his
hatred
fully
.
Welcome
home
.
Enter
Sicinius
and
Brutus
.
Behold
,
these
are
the
tribunes
of
the
people
,
The
tongues
o’
th’
common
mouth
.
I
do
despise
them
,
For
they
do
prank
them
in
authority
Against
all
noble
sufferance
.
Pass
no
further
.
Ha
?
What
is
that
?
It
will
be
dangerous
to
go
on
.
No
further
.
What
makes
this
change
?
The
matter
?
Hath
he
not
passed
the
noble
and
the
common
?
Cominius
,
no
.
Have
I
had
children’s
voices
?
Tribunes
,
give
way
.
He
shall
to
th’
marketplace
.
The
people
are
incensed
against
him
.
Stop
,
Or
all
will
fall
in
broil
.
Are
these
your
herd
?
Must
these
have
voices
,
that
can
yield
them
now
ACT 3. SC. 1
And
straight
disclaim
their
tongues
?
What
are
your
offices
?
You
being
their
mouths
,
why
rule
you
not
their
teeth
?
Have
you
not
set
them
on
?
Be
calm
,
be
calm
.
It
is
a
purposed
thing
,
and
grows
by
plot
,
To
curb
the
will
of
the
nobility
.
Suffer
’t
,
and
live
with
such
as
cannot
rule
Nor
ever
will
be
ruled
.
Call
’t
not
a
plot
.
The
people
cry
you
mocked
them
;
and
,
of
late
,
When
corn
was
given
them
gratis
,
you
repined
,
Scandaled
the
suppliants
for
the
people
,
called
them
Timepleasers
,
flatterers
,
foes
to
nobleness
.
Why
,
this
was
known
before
.
Not
to
them
all
.
Have
you
informed
them
sithence
?
How
?
I
inform
them
?
You
are
like
to
do
such
business
.
Not
unlike
,
each
way
,
to
better
yours
.
Why
then
should
I
be
consul
?
By
yond
clouds
,
Let
me
deserve
so
ill
as
you
,
and
make
me
Your
fellow
tribune
.
You
show
too
much
of
that
For
which
the
people
stir
.
If
you
will
pass
To
where
you
are
bound
,
you
must
inquire
your
way
,
ACT 3. SC. 1
Which
you
are
out
of
,
with
a
gentler
spirit
,
Or
never
be
so
noble
as
a
consul
,
Nor
yoke
with
him
for
tribune
.
Let’s
be
calm
.
The
people
are
abused
,
set
on
.
This
palt’ring
Becomes
not
Rome
,
nor
has
Coriolanus
Deserved
this
so
dishonored
rub
,
laid
falsely
I’
th’
plain
way
of
his
merit
.
Tell
me
of
corn
?
This
was
my
speech
,
and
I
will
speak
’t
again
.
Not
now
,
not
now
.
Not
in
this
heat
,
sir
,
now
.
Now
,
as
I
live
,
I
will
.
My
nobler
friends
,
I
crave
their
pardons
.
For
The
mutable
,
rank-scented
meiny
,
let
them
Regard
me
,
as
I
do
not
flatter
,
and
Therein
behold
themselves
.
I
say
again
,
In
soothing
them
,
we
nourish
’gainst
our
senate
The
cockle
of
rebellion
,
insolence
,
sedition
,
Which
we
ourselves
have
plowed
for
,
sowed
,
and
scattered
By
mingling
them
with
us
,
the
honored
number
,
Who
lack
not
virtue
,
no
,
nor
power
,
but
that
Which
they
have
given
to
beggars
.
Well
,
no
more
.
No
more
words
,
we
beseech
you
.
How
?
No
more
?
As
for
my
country
I
have
shed
my
blood
,
Not
fearing
outward
force
,
so
shall
my
lungs
Coin
words
till
their
decay
against
those
measles
Which
we
disdain
should
tetter
us
,
yet
sought
The
very
way
to
catch
them
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
You
speak
o’
th’
people
As
if
you
were
a
god
to
punish
,
not
A
man
of
their
infirmity
.
’Twere
well
We
let
the
people
know
’t
.
What
,
what
?
His
choler
?
Choler
?
Were
I
as
patient
as
the
midnight
sleep
,
By
Jove
,
’twould
be
my
mind
.
It
is
a
mind
That
shall
remain
a
poison
where
it
is
,
Not
poison
any
further
.
Shall
remain
?
Hear
you
this
Triton
of
the
minnows
?
Mark
you
His
absolute
shall
?
’Twas
from
the
canon
.
Shall
?
O
good
but
most
unwise
patricians
,
why
,
You
grave
but
reckless
senators
,
have
you
thus
Given
Hydra
here
to
choose
an
officer
,
That
with
his
peremptory
shall
,
being
but
The
horn
and
noise
o’
th’
monster’s
,
wants
not
spirit
To
say
he’ll
turn
your
current
in
a
ditch
And
make
your
channel
his
?
If
he
have
power
,
Then
vail
your
ignorance
;
if
none
,
awake
Your
dangerous
lenity
.
If
you
are
learned
,
Be
not
as
common
fools
;
if
you
are
not
,
Let
them
have
cushions
by
you
.
You
are
plebeians
,
If
they
be
senators
;
and
they
are
no
less
When
,
both
your
voices
blended
,
the
great’st
taste
Most
palates
theirs
.
They
choose
their
magistrate
,
And
such
a
one
as
he
,
who
puts
his
shall
,
His
popular
shall
,
against
a
graver
bench
Than
ever
frowned
in
Greece
.
By
Jove
himself
,
It
makes
the
consuls
base
!
And
my
soul
aches
To
know
,
when
two
authorities
are
up
,
ACT 3. SC. 1
Neither
supreme
,
how
soon
confusion
May
enter
’twixt
the
gap
of
both
and
take
The
one
by
th’
other
.
Well
,
on
to
th’
marketplace
.
Whoever
gave
that
counsel
to
give
forth
The
corn
o’
th’
storehouse
gratis
,
as
’twas
used
Sometime
in
Greece
—
Well
,
well
,
no
more
of
that
.
Though
there
the
people
had
more
absolute
power
,
I
say
they
nourished
disobedience
,
fed
The
ruin
of
the
state
.
Why
shall
the
people
give
One
that
speaks
thus
their
voice
?
I’ll
give
my
reasons
,
More
worthier
than
their
voices
.
They
know
the
corn
Was
not
our
recompense
,
resting
well
assured
They
ne’er
did
service
for
’t
.
Being
pressed
to
th’
war
,
Even
when
the
navel
of
the
state
was
touched
,
They
would
not
thread
the
gates
.
This
kind
of
service
Did
not
deserve
corn
gratis
.
Being
i’
th’
war
,
Their
mutinies
and
revolts
,
wherein
they
showed
Most
valor
,
spoke
not
for
them
.
Th’
accusation
Which
they
have
often
made
against
the
Senate
,
All
cause
unborn
,
could
never
be
the
native
Of
our
so
frank
donation
.
Well
,
what
then
?
How
shall
this
bosom
multiplied
digest
The
Senate’s
courtesy
?
Let
deeds
express
What’s
like
to
be
their
words
:
We
did
request
it
;
We
are
the
greater
poll
,
and
in
true
fear
They
gave
us
our
demands
.
Thus
we
debase
The
nature
of
our
seats
and
make
the
rabble
Call
our
cares
fears
,
which
will
in
time
ACT 3. SC. 1
Break
ope
the
locks
o’
th’
Senate
and
bring
in
The
crows
to
peck
the
eagles
.
Come
,
enough
.
Enough
,
with
over-measure
.
No
,
take
more
!
What
may
be
sworn
by
,
both
divine
and
human
,
Seal
what
I
end
withal
!
This
double
worship
—
Where
one
part
does
disdain
with
cause
,
the
other
Insult
without
all
reason
,
where
gentry
,
title
,
wisdom
Cannot
conclude
but
by
the
yea
and
no
Of
general
ignorance
—
it
must
omit
Real
necessities
and
give
way
the
while
To
unstable
slightness
.
Purpose
so
barred
,
it
follows
Nothing
is
done
to
purpose
.
Therefore
,
beseech
you
—
You
that
will
be
less
fearful
than
discreet
,
That
love
the
fundamental
part
of
state
More
than
you
doubt
the
change
on
’t
,
that
prefer
A
noble
life
before
a
long
,
and
wish
To
jump
a
body
with
a
dangerous
physic
That’s
sure
of
death
without
it
—
at
once
pluck
out
The
multitudinous
tongue
;
let
them
not
lick
The
sweet
which
is
their
poison
.
Your
dishonor
Mangles
true
judgment
and
bereaves
the
state
Of
that
integrity
which
should
become
’t
,
Not
having
the
power
to
do
the
good
it
would
For
th’
ill
which
doth
control
’t
.
’Has
said
enough
.
’Has
spoken
like
a
traitor
and
shall
answer
As
traitors
do
.
Thou
wretch
,
despite
o’erwhelm
thee
!
What
should
the
people
do
with
these
bald
tribunes
,
On
whom
depending
,
their
obedience
fails
ACT 3. SC. 1
To
To’
th’
greater
bench
?
In
a
rebellion
,
When
what’s
not
meet
but
what
must
be
was
law
,
Then
were
they
chosen
.
In
a
better
hour
,
Let
what
is
meet
be
said
it
must
be
meet
,
And
throw
their
power
i’
th’
dust
.
Manifest
treason
.
This
a
consul
?
No
.
The
aediles
,
ho
!
Let
him
be
apprehended
.
Enter
an
Aedile
.
Go
,
call
the
people
;
Aedile
exits
.
in
whose
name
myself
Attach
thee
as
a
traitorous
innovator
,
A
foe
to
to’
th’
public
weal
.
Obey
,
I
charge
thee
,
And
follow
to
thine
answer
.
Hence
,
old
goat
.
We’ll
surety
him
.
,
to
Sicinius
Agèd
sir
,
hands
off
.
,
to
Sicinius
Hence
,
rotten
thing
,
or
I
shall
shake
thy
bones
Out
of
thy
garments
.
Help
,
you
citizens
!
Enter
a
rabble
of
Plebeians
with
the
Aediles
.
On
both
sides
more
respect
!
Here’s
he
that
would
take
from
you
all
your
power
.
Seize
him
,
aediles
.
Down
with
him
,
down
with
him
!
Weapons
,
weapons
,
weapons
!
They
all
bustle
about
Coriolanus
.
Tribunes
,
patricians
,
citizens
,
what
ho
!
Sicinius
,
Brutus
,
Coriolanus
,
citizens
!
ACT 3. SC. 1
Peace
,
peace
,
peace
!
Stay
,
hold
,
peace
!
What
is
about
to
be
?
I
am
out
of
breath
.
Confusion’s
near
.
I
cannot
speak
.
You
,
tribunes
To
th’
people
!
—
Coriolanus
,
patience
!
—
Speak
,
good
Sicinius
.
Hear
me
,
people
!
Peace
!
Let’s
hear
our
tribune
.
Peace
!
Speak
,
speak
,
speak
.
You
are
at
point
to
lose
your
liberties
.
Martius
would
have
all
from
you
,
Martius
,
Whom
late
you
have
named
for
consul
.
Fie
,
fie
,
fie
!
This
is
the
way
to
kindle
,
not
to
quench
.
To
unbuild
the
city
and
to
lay
all
flat
.
What
is
the
city
but
the
people
?
True
,
The
people
are
the
city
.
By
the
consent
of
all
,
we
were
established
The
people’s
magistrates
.
You
so
remain
.
And
so
are
like
to
do
.
That
is
the
way
to
lay
the
city
flat
,
To
bring
the
roof
to
the
foundation
And
bury
all
which
yet
distinctly
ranges
In
heaps
and
piles
of
ruin
.
This
deserves
death
.
Or
let
us
stand
to
our
authority
Or
let
us
lose
it
.
We
do
here
pronounce
,
Upon
the
part
o’
th’
people
,
in
whose
power
ACT 3. SC. 1
We
were
elected
theirs
,
Martius
is
worthy
Of
present
death
.
Therefore
lay
hold
of
him
,
Bear
him
to
th’
rock
Tarpeian
,
and
from
thence
Into
destruction
cast
him
.
Aediles
,
seize
him
!
Yield
,
Martius
,
yield
!
Hear
me
one
word
.
Beseech
you
,
tribunes
,
hear
me
but
a
word
.
Peace
,
peace
!
Be
that
you
seem
,
truly
your
country’s
friend
,
And
temp’rately
proceed
to
what
you
would
Thus
violently
redress
.
Sir
,
those
cold
ways
,
That
seem
like
prudent
helps
,
are
very
poisonous
Where
the
disease
is
violent
.
—
Lay
hands
upon
him
,
And
bear
him
to
the
rock
.
Coriolanus
draws
his
sword
.
No
,
I’ll
die
here
.
There’s
some
among
you
have
beheld
me
fighting
.
Come
,
try
upon
yourselves
what
you
have
seen
me
.
Down
with
that
sword
!
—
Tribunes
,
withdraw
awhile
.
Lay
hands
upon
him
!
Help
Martius
,
help
!
You
that
be
noble
,
help
him
,
young
and
old
!
Down
with
him
,
down
with
him
!
In
this
mutiny
,
the
Tribunes
,
the
Aediles
,
and
the
People
are
beat
in
.
,
to
Coriolanus
Go
,
get
you
to
your
house
.
Begone
,
away
.
All
will
be
naught
else
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
Get
you
gone
.
Stand
fast
!
We
have
as
many
friends
as
enemies
.
Shall
it
be
put
to
that
?
The
gods
forbid
!
—
I
prithee
,
noble
friend
,
home
to
thy
house
;
Leave
us
to
cure
this
cause
.
For
’tis
a
sore
upon
us
You
cannot
tent
yourself
.
Begone
,
beseech
you
.
Come
,
sir
,
along
with
us
.
I
would
they
were
barbarians
,
as
they
are
,
Though
in
Rome
littered
;
not
Romans
,
as
they
are
not
,
Though
calved
i’
th’
porch
o’
th’
Capitol
.
Begone
!
Put
not
your
worthy
rage
into
your
tongue
.
One
time
will
owe
another
.
On
fair
ground
I
could
beat
forty
of
them
.
I
could
myself
Take
up
a
brace
o’
th’
best
of
them
,
yea
,
the
two
tribunes
.
But
now
’tis
odds
beyond
arithmetic
,
And
manhood
is
called
foolery
when
it
stands
Against
a
falling
fabric
.
To
Coriolanus
.
Will
you
hence
,
Before
the
tag
return
,
whose
rage
doth
rend
Like
interrupted
waters
and
o’erbear
What
they
are
used
to
bear
?
,
to
Coriolanus
Pray
you
,
begone
.
I’ll
try
whether
my
old
wit
be
in
request
With
those
that
have
but
little
.
This
must
be
patched
With
cloth
of
any
color
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
Nay
,
come
away
.
Coriolanus
and
Cominius
exit
.
This
man
has
marred
his
fortune
.
His
nature
is
too
noble
for
the
world
.
He
would
not
flatter
Neptune
for
his
trident
Or
Jove
for
’s
power
to
thunder
.
His
heart’s
his
mouth
;
What
his
breast
forges
,
that
his
tongue
must
vent
,
And
,
being
angry
,
does
forget
that
ever
He
heard
the
name
of
death
.
A
noise
within
.
Here’s
goodly
work
.
I
would
they
were
abed
!
I
would
they
were
in
Tiber
.
What
the
vengeance
,
Could
he
not
speak
’em
fair
?
Enter
Brutus
and
Sicinius
with
the
rabble
again
.
Where
is
this
viper
That
would
depopulate
the
city
and
Be
every
man
himself
?
You
worthy
tribunes
—
He
shall
be
thrown
down
the
Tarpeian
rock
With
rigorous
hands
.
He
hath
resisted
law
,
And
therefore
law
shall
scorn
him
further
trial
Than
the
severity
of
the
public
power
Which
he
so
sets
at
naught
.
He
shall
well
know
The
noble
tribunes
are
the
people’s
mouths
And
we
their
hands
.
He
shall
,
sure
on
’t
.
Sir
,
sir
—
Peace
!
ACT 3. SC. 1
Do
not
cry
havoc
where
you
should
but
hunt
With
modest
warrant
.
Sir
,
how
comes
com’st
’t
that
you
Have
holp
to
make
this
rescue
?
Hear
me
speak
.
As
I
do
know
the
Consul’s
worthiness
,
So
can
I
name
his
faults
.
Consul
?
What
consul
?
The
consul
Coriolanus
.
He
consul
?
No
,
no
,
no
,
no
,
no
!
If
,
by
the
Tribunes’
leave
,
and
yours
,
good
people
,
I
may
be
heard
,
I
would
crave
a
word
or
two
,
The
which
shall
turn
you
to
no
further
harm
Than
so
much
loss
of
time
.
Speak
briefly
then
,
For
we
are
peremptory
to
dispatch
This
viperous
traitor
.
To
eject
him
hence
Were
but
one
danger
,
and
to
keep
him
here
Our
certain
death
.
Therefore
it
is
decreed
He
dies
tonight
.
Now
the
good
gods
forbid
That
our
renownèd
Rome
,
whose
gratitude
Towards
her
deservèd
children
is
enrolled
In
Jove’s
own
book
,
like
an
unnatural
dam
Should
now
eat
up
her
own
.
He’s
a
disease
that
must
be
cut
away
.
O
,
he’s
a
limb
that
has
but
a
disease
—
Mortal
to
cut
it
off
;
to
cure
it
easy
.
What
has
he
done
to
Rome
that’s
worthy
death
?
Killing
our
enemies
,
the
blood
he
hath
lost
—
Which
I
dare
vouch
is
more
than
that
he
hath
ACT 3. SC. 1
By
many
an
ounce
—
he
dropped
it
for
his
country
;
And
what
is
left
,
to
lose
it
by
his
country
Were
to
us
all
that
do
’t
and
suffer
it
A
brand
to
th’
end
o’
th’
world
.
This
is
clean
cam
.
Merely
awry
.
When
he
did
love
his
country
,
It
honored
him
.
The
service
of
the
foot
,
Being
once
gangrened
,
is
not
then
respected
For
what
before
it
was
.
We’ll
hear
no
more
.
Pursue
him
to
his
house
,
and
pluck
him
thence
,
Lest
his
infection
,
being
of
catching
nature
,
Spread
further
.
One
word
more
,
one
word
!
This
tiger-footed
rage
,
when
it
shall
find
The
harm
of
unscanned
swiftness
,
will
too
late
Tie
leaden
pounds
to
’s
heels
.
Proceed
by
process
,
Lest
parties
—
as
he
is
beloved
—
break
out
And
sack
great
Rome
with
Romans
.
If
it
were
so
—
What
do
you
talk
?
Have
we
not
had
a
taste
of
his
obedience
?
Our
aediles
smote
!
Ourselves
resisted
!
Come
.
Consider
this
:
he
has
been
bred
i’
th’
wars
Since
he
could
draw
a
sword
,
and
is
ill
schooled
In
bolted
language
;
meal
and
bran
together
He
throws
without
distinction
.
Give
me
leave
,
I’ll
go
to
him
and
undertake
to
bring
him
Where
he
shall
answer
by
a
lawful
form
,
In
peace
,
to
his
utmost
peril
.
Noble
tribunes
,
It
is
the
humane
way
:
the
other
course
ACT 3. SC. 2
Will
prove
too
bloody
,
and
the
end
of
it
Unknown
to
the
beginning
.
Noble
Menenius
,
Be
you
then
as
the
people’s
officer
.
—
Masters
,
lay
down
your
weapons
.
Go
not
home
.
Meet
on
the
marketplace
.
To
Menenius
.
We’ll
attend
you
there
,
Where
if
you
bring
not
Martius
,
we’ll
proceed
In
our
first
way
.
I’ll
bring
him
to
you
.
To
Senators
.
Let
me
desire
your
company
.
He
must
come
,
Or
what
is
worst
will
follow
.
Pray
you
,
let’s
to
him
.
All
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
Coriolanus
with
Nobles
.
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
.
You
do
the
nobler
.
I
muse
my
mother
Does
not
approve
me
further
,
who
was
wont
To
call
them
woolen
vassals
,
things
created
To
buy
and
sell
with
groats
,
to
show
bare
heads
In
congregations
,
to
yawn
,
be
still
,
and
wonder
ACT 3. SC. 2
When
one
but
of
my
ordinance
stood
up
To
speak
of
peace
or
war
.
Enter
Volumnia
.
I
talk
of
you
.
Why
did
you
wish
me
milder
?
Would
you
have
me
False
to
my
nature
?
Rather
say
I
play
The
man
I
am
.
O
sir
,
sir
,
sir
,
I
would
have
had
you
put
your
power
well
on
Before
you
had
worn
it
out
.
Let
go
.
You
might
have
been
enough
the
man
you
are
With
striving
less
to
be
so
.
Lesser
had
been
The
thwartings
of
your
dispositions
if
You
had
not
showed
them
how
you
were
disposed
Ere
they
lacked
power
to
cross
you
.
Let
them
hang
!
Ay
,
and
burn
too
.
Enter
Menenius
with
the
Senators
.
,
to
Coriolanus
Come
,
come
,
you
have
been
too
rough
,
something
too
rough
.
You
must
return
and
mend
it
.
There’s
no
remedy
,
Unless
,
by
not
so
doing
,
our
good
city
Cleave
in
the
midst
and
perish
.
Pray
be
counseled
.
I
have
a
heart
as
little
apt
as
yours
,
But
yet
a
brain
that
leads
my
use
of
anger
To
better
vantage
.
Well
said
,
noble
woman
.
Before
he
should
thus
stoop
to
th’
herd
—
but
that
The
violent
fit
o’
th’
time
craves
it
as
physic
ACT 3. SC. 2
For
the
whole
state
—
I
would
put
mine
armor
on
,
Which
I
can
scarcely
bear
.
What
must
I
do
?
Return
to
th’
Tribunes
.
Well
,
what
then
?
What
then
?
Repent
what
you
have
spoke
.
For
them
?
I
cannot
do
it
to
the
gods
.
Must
I
then
do
’t
to
them
?
You
are
too
absolute
,
Though
therein
you
can
never
be
too
noble
But
when
extremities
speak
.
I
have
heard
you
say
Honor
and
policy
,
like
unsevered
friends
,
I’
th’
war
do
grow
together
.
Grant
that
,
and
tell
me
In
peace
what
each
of
them
by
th’
other
lose
That
they
combine
not
there
?
Tush
,
tush
!
A
good
demand
.
If
it
be
honor
in
your
wars
to
seem
The
same
you
are
not
,
which
for
your
best
ends
You
adopt
your
policy
,
how
is
it
less
or
worse
That
it
shall
hold
companionship
in
peace
With
honor
as
in
war
,
since
that
to
both
It
stands
in
like
request
?
Why
force
you
this
?
Because
that
now
it
lies
you
on
to
speak
To
th’
people
,
not
by
your
own
instruction
,
Nor
by
th’
matter
which
your
heart
prompts
you
,
But
with
such
words
that
are
but
roted
in
Your
tongue
,
though
but
bastards
and
syllables
Of
no
allowance
to
your
bosom’s
truth
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
Now
,
this
no
more
dishonors
you
at
all
Than
to
take
in
a
town
with
gentle
words
,
Which
else
would
put
you
to
your
fortune
and
The
hazard
of
much
blood
.
I
would
dissemble
with
my
nature
where
My
fortunes
and
my
friends
at
stake
required
I
should
do
so
in
honor
.
I
am
in
this
Your
wife
,
your
son
,
these
senators
,
the
nobles
;
And
you
will
rather
show
our
general
louts
How
you
can
frown
than
spend
a
fawn
upon
’em
For
the
inheritance
of
their
loves
and
safeguard
Of
what
that
want
might
ruin
.
Noble
lady
!
—
Come
,
go
with
us
;
speak
fair
.
You
may
salve
so
,
Not
what
is
dangerous
present
,
but
the
loss
Of
what
is
past
.
I
prithee
now
,
my
son
,
Go
to
them
with
this
bonnet
in
thy
hand
,
And
thus
far
having
stretched
it
—
here
be
with
them
—
Thy
knee
bussing
the
stones
—
for
in
such
business
Action
is
eloquence
,
and
the
eyes
of
th’
ignorant
More
learnèd
than
the
ears
—
waving
thy
head
,
Which
often
thus
correcting
thy
stout
heart
,
Now
humble
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
Even
as
she
speaks
,
why
,
their
hearts
were
yours
;
For
they
have
pardons
,
being
asked
,
as
free
As
words
to
little
purpose
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
Prithee
now
,
Go
,
and
be
ruled
;
although
I
know
thou
hadst
rather
Follow
thine
enemy
in
a
fiery
gulf
Than
flatter
him
in
a
bower
.
Enter
Cominius
.
Here
is
Cominius
.
I
have
been
i’
th’
marketplace
;
and
,
sir
,
’tis
fit
You
make
strong
party
or
defend
yourself
By
calmness
or
by
absence
.
All’s
in
anger
.
Only
fair
speech
.
I
think
’twill
serve
,
if
he
Can
thereto
frame
his
spirit
.
He
must
,
and
will
.
—
Prithee
,
now
,
say
you
will
,
and
go
about
it
.
Must
I
go
show
them
my
unbarbèd
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
mold
of
Martius
,
they
to
dust
should
grind
it
And
throw
’t
against
the
wind
.
To
th’
marketplace
!
You
have
put
me
now
to
such
a
part
which
never
I
shall
discharge
to
th’
life
.
Come
,
come
,
we’ll
prompt
you
.
I
prithee
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
.
Well
,
I
must
do
’t
.
Away
,
my
disposition
,
and
possess
me
Some
harlot’s
spirit
!
My
throat
of
war
be
turned
,
ACT 3. SC. 2
Which
choirèd
with
my
drum
,
into
a
pipe
Small
as
an
eunuch
or
the
virgin
voice
That
babies
lull
asleep
!
The
smiles
of
knaves
Tent
in
my
cheeks
,
and
schoolboys’
tears
take
up
The
glasses
of
my
sight
!
A
beggar’s
tongue
Make
motion
through
my
lips
,
and
my
armed
knees
,
Who
bowed
but
in
my
stirrup
,
bend
like
his
That
hath
received
an
alms
.
I
will
not
do
’t
,
Lest
I
surcease
to
honor
mine
own
truth
And
,
by
my
body’s
action
,
teach
my
mind
A
most
inherent
baseness
.
At
thy
choice
,
then
.
To
beg
of
thee
,
it
is
my
more
dishonor
Than
thou
of
them
.
Come
all
to
ruin
.
Let
Thy
mother
rather
feel
thy
pride
than
fear
Thy
dangerous
stoutness
,
for
I
mock
at
death
With
as
big
heart
as
thou
.
Do
as
thou
list
.
Thy
valiantness
was
mine
;
thou
suck’st
it
from
me
,
But
owe
thy
pride
thyself
.
Pray
be
content
.
Mother
,
I
am
going
to
the
marketplace
.
Chide
me
no
more
.
I’ll
mountebank
their
loves
,
Cog
their
hearts
from
them
,
and
come
home
beloved
Of
all
the
trades
in
Rome
.
Look
,
I
am
going
.
Commend
me
to
my
wife
.
I’ll
return
consul
,
Or
never
trust
to
what
my
tongue
can
do
I’
th’
way
of
flattery
further
.
Do
your
will
.
Volumnia
exits
.
Away
!
The
Tribunes
do
attend
you
.
Arm
yourself
To
answer
mildly
,
for
they
are
prepared
With
accusations
,
as
I
hear
,
more
strong
Than
are
upon
you
yet
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
The
word
is
mildly
.
Pray
you
,
let
us
go
.
Let
them
accuse
me
by
invention
,
I
Will
answer
in
mine
honor
.
Ay
,
but
mildly
.
Well
,
mildly
be
it
,
then
.
Mildly
.
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Enter
Sicinius
and
Brutus
.
In
this
point
charge
him
home
,
that
he
affects
Tyrannical
power
.
If
he
evade
us
there
,
Enforce
him
with
his
envy
to
the
people
,
And
that
the
spoil
got
on
the
Antiates
Was
ne’er
distributed
.
Enter
an
Aedile
.
What
,
will
he
come
?
He’s
coming
.
How
accompanied
?
With
old
Menenius
,
and
those
senators
That
always
favored
him
.
Have
you
a
catalogue
Of
all
the
voices
that
we
have
procured
,
Set
down
by
th’
poll
?
I
have
.
’Tis
ready
.
Have
you
collected
them
by
tribes
?
I
have
.
Assemble
presently
the
people
hither
;
And
when
they
hear
me
say
It
shall
be
so
ACT 3. SC. 3
I’
th’
right
and
strength
o’
th’
commons
,
be
it
either
For
death
,
for
fine
,
or
banishment
,
then
let
them
If
I
say
Fine
,
cry
Fine
,
if
Death
,
cry
Death
,
Insisting
on
the
old
prerogative
And
power
i’
th’
truth
o’
th’
cause
.
I
shall
inform
them
.
And
when
such
time
they
have
begun
to
cry
,
Let
them
not
cease
,
but
with
a
din
confused
Enforce
the
present
execution
Of
what
we
chance
to
sentence
.
Very
well
.
Make
them
be
strong
and
ready
for
this
hint
When
we
shall
hap
to
give
’t
them
.
Go
about
it
.
Aedile
exits
.
Put
him
to
choler
straight
.
He
hath
been
used
Ever
to
conquer
and
to
have
his
worth
Of
contradiction
.
Being
once
chafed
,
he
cannot
Be
reined
again
to
temperance
;
then
he
speaks
What’s
in
his
heart
,
and
that
is
there
which
looks
With
us
to
break
his
neck
.
Enter
Coriolanus
,
Menenius
,
and
Cominius
,
with
others
(
Senators
)
.
Well
,
here
he
comes
.
,
aside
to
Coriolanus
Calmly
,
I
do
beseech
you
.
,
aside
to
Menenius
Ay
,
as
an
hostler
that
for
th’
poorest
piece
Will
bear
the
knave
by
th’
volume
.
—
Th’
honored
gods
Keep
Rome
in
safety
and
the
chairs
of
justice
Supplied
with
worthy
men
!
Plant
love
among
’s
!
ACT 3. SC. 3
Throng
our
large
temples
with
the
shows
of
peace
And
not
our
streets
with
war
!
Amen
,
amen
.
A
noble
wish
.
Enter
the
Aedile
with
the
Plebeians
.
Draw
near
,
you
people
.
List
to
your
tribunes
.
Audience
!
Peace
,
I
say
!
First
,
hear
me
speak
.
Well
,
say
.
—
Peace
,
ho
!
Shall
I
be
charged
no
further
than
this
present
?
Must
all
determine
here
?
I
do
demand
If
you
submit
you
to
the
people’s
voices
,
Allow
their
officers
,
and
are
content
To
suffer
lawful
censure
for
such
faults
As
shall
be
proved
upon
you
.
I
am
content
.
Lo
,
citizens
,
he
says
he
is
content
.
The
warlike
service
he
has
done
,
consider
.
Think
Upon
the
wounds
his
body
bears
,
which
show
Like
graves
i’
th’
holy
churchyard
.
Scratches
with
briars
,
Scars
to
move
laughter
only
.
Consider
further
,
That
when
he
speaks
not
like
a
citizen
,
You
find
him
like
a
soldier
.
Do
not
take
His
rougher
accents
for
malicious
sounds
,
But
,
as
I
say
,
such
as
become
a
soldier
Rather
than
envy
you
.
Well
,
well
,
no
more
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
What
is
the
matter
,
That
,
being
passed
for
consul
with
full
voice
,
I
am
so
dishonored
that
the
very
hour
You
take
it
off
again
?
Answer
to
us
.
Say
then
.
’Tis
true
,
I
ought
so
.
We
charge
you
that
you
have
contrived
to
take
From
Rome
all
seasoned
office
and
to
wind
Yourself
into
a
power
tyrannical
,
For
which
you
are
a
traitor
to
the
people
.
How
?
Traitor
?
Nay
,
temperately
!
Your
promise
.
The
fires
i’
th’
lowest
hell
fold
in
the
people
!
Call
me
their
traitor
?
Thou
injurious
tribune
!
Within
thine
eyes
sat
twenty
thousand
deaths
,
In
thy
hands
clutched
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
.
Mark
you
this
,
people
?
To
To’
th’
rock
,
to
to’
th’
rock
with
him
!
Peace
!
We
need
not
put
new
matter
to
his
charge
.
What
you
have
seen
him
do
and
heard
him
speak
,
Beating
your
officers
,
cursing
yourselves
,
Opposing
laws
with
strokes
,
and
here
defying
Those
whose
great
power
must
try
him
—
even
this
,
So
criminal
and
in
such
capital
kind
,
Deserves
th’
extremest
death
.
But
since
he
hath
Served
well
for
Rome
—
What
do
you
prate
of
service
?
I
talk
of
that
that
know
it
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
You
?
Is
this
the
promise
that
you
made
your
mother
?
Know
,
I
pray
you
—
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
.
For
that
he
has
,
As
much
as
in
him
lies
,
from
time
to
time
Envied
against
the
people
,
seeking
means
To
pluck
away
their
power
,
as
now
at
last
Given
hostile
strokes
,
and
that
not
in
the
presence
Of
dreaded
justice
,
but
on
the
ministers
That
doth
distribute
it
,
in
the
name
o’
th’
people
And
in
the
power
of
us
the
Tribunes
,
we
,
Even
from
this
instant
,
banish
him
our
city
In
peril
of
precipitation
From
off
the
rock
Tarpeian
,
never
more
To
enter
our
Rome
gates
.
I’
th’
people’s
name
,
I
say
it
shall
be
so
.
It
shall
be
so
,
it
shall
be
so
!
Let
him
away
!
He’s
banished
,
and
it
shall
be
so
.
Hear
me
,
my
masters
and
my
common
friends
—
He’s
sentenced
.
No
more
hearing
.
Let
me
speak
.
I
have
been
consul
and
can
show
for
Rome
Her
enemies’
marks
upon
me
.
I
do
love
My
country’s
good
with
a
respect
more
tender
,
More
holy
and
profound
,
than
mine
own
life
,
ACT 3. SC. 3
My
dear
wife’s
estimate
,
her
womb’s
increase
,
And
treasure
of
my
loins
.
Then
if
I
would
Speak
that
—
We
know
your
drift
.
Speak
what
?
There’s
no
more
to
be
said
,
but
he
is
banished
As
enemy
to
the
people
and
his
country
.
It
shall
be
so
.
It
shall
be
so
,
it
shall
be
so
!
You
common
cry
of
curs
,
whose
breath
I
hate
As
reek
o’
th’
rotten
fens
,
whose
loves
I
prize
As
the
dead
carcasses
of
unburied
men
That
do
corrupt
my
air
,
I
banish
you
!
And
here
remain
with
your
uncertainty
;
Let
every
feeble
rumor
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
.
Coriolanus
,
Cominius
,
with
others
(
Senators
)
exit
.
The
people’s
enemy
is
gone
,
is
gone
.
Our
enemy
is
banished
;
he
is
gone
.
Hoo
,
hoo
!
They
all
shout
and
throw
up
their
caps
.
Go
see
him
out
at
gates
,
and
follow
him
,
As
he
hath
followed
you
,
with
all
despite
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
Give
him
deserved
vexation
.
Let
a
guard
Attend
us
through
the
city
.
Come
,
come
,
let’s
see
him
out
at
gates
!
Come
!
The
gods
preserve
our
noble
tribunes
!
Come
!
They
exit
.
ACT
4
Scene
1
Enter
Coriolanus
,
Volumnia
,
Virgilia
,
Menenius
,
Cominius
,
with
the
young
nobility
of
Rome
.
Come
,
leave
your
tears
.
A
brief
farewell
.
The
beast
With
many
heads
butts
me
away
.
Nay
,
mother
,
Where
is
your
ancient
courage
?
You
were
used
To
say
extremities
was
the
trier
of
spirits
;
That
common
chances
common
men
could
bear
;
That
when
the
sea
was
calm
,
all
boats
alike
Showed
mastership
in
floating
;
fortune’s
blows
When
most
struck
home
,
being
gentle
wounded
craves
A
noble
cunning
.
You
were
used
to
load
me
With
precepts
that
would
make
invincible
The
heart
that
conned
them
.
O
heavens
!
O
heavens
!
Nay
,
I
prithee
,
woman
—
Now
the
red
pestilence
strike
all
trades
in
Rome
,
And
occupations
perish
!
What
,
what
,
what
!
I
shall
be
loved
when
I
am
lacked
.
Nay
,
mother
,
Resume
that
spirit
when
you
were
wont
to
say
If
you
had
been
the
wife
of
Hercules
,
ACT 4. SC. 1
Six
of
his
labors
you’d
have
done
and
saved
Your
husband
so
much
sweat
.
—
Cominius
,
Droop
not
.
Adieu
.
—
Farewell
,
my
wife
,
my
mother
.
I’ll
do
well
yet
.
—
Thou
old
and
true
Menenius
,
Thy
tears
are
salter
than
a
younger
man’s
And
venomous
to
thine
eyes
.
—
My
sometime
general
,
I
have
seen
thee
stern
,
and
thou
hast
oft
beheld
Heart-hard’ning
spectacles
.
Tell
these
sad
women
’Tis
fond
to
wail
inevitable
strokes
As
’tis
to
laugh
at
’em
.
—
My
mother
,
you
wot
well
My
hazards
still
have
been
your
solace
,
and
—
Believe
’t
not
lightly
—
though
I
go
alone
,
Like
to
a
lonely
dragon
that
his
fen
Makes
feared
and
talked
of
more
than
seen
,
your
son
Will
or
exceed
the
common
or
be
caught
With
cautelous
baits
and
practice
.
My
first
son
,
Whither
wilt
thou
go
?
Take
good
Cominius
With
thee
awhile
.
Determine
on
some
course
More
than
a
wild
exposure
to
each
chance
That
starts
i’
th’
way
before
thee
.
O
the
gods
!
I’ll
follow
thee
a
month
,
devise
with
thee
Where
thou
shalt
rest
,
that
thou
mayst
hear
of
us
And
we
of
thee
;
so
if
the
time
thrust
forth
A
cause
for
thy
repeal
,
we
shall
not
send
O’er
the
vast
world
to
seek
a
single
man
And
lose
advantage
,
which
doth
ever
cool
I’
th’
absence
of
the
needer
.
Fare
you
well
.
Thou
hast
years
upon
thee
,
and
thou
art
too
full
Of
the
wars’
surfeits
to
go
rove
with
one
That’s
yet
unbruised
.
Bring
me
but
out
at
gate
.
—
ACT 4. SC. 2
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
.
That’s
worthily
As
any
ear
can
hear
.
Come
,
let’s
not
weep
.
If
I
could
shake
off
but
one
seven
years
From
these
old
arms
and
legs
,
by
the
good
gods
,
I’d
with
thee
every
foot
.
Give
me
thy
hand
.
Come
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
the
two
Tribunes
,
Sicinius
,
and
Brutus
,
with
the
Aedile
.
Bid
them
all
home
.
He’s
gone
,
and
we’ll
no
further
.
The
nobility
are
vexed
,
whom
we
see
have
sided
In
his
behalf
.
Now
we
have
shown
our
power
,
Let
us
seem
humbler
after
it
is
done
Than
when
it
was
a-doing
.
Bid
them
home
.
Say
their
great
enemy
is
gone
,
and
they
Stand
in
their
ancient
strength
.
Dismiss
them
home
.
Aedile
exits
.
Here
comes
his
mother
.
Enter
Volumnia
,
Virgilia
,
and
Menenius
.
Let’s
not
meet
her
.
Why
?
ACT 4. SC. 2
They
say
she’s
mad
.
They
have
ta’en
note
of
us
.
Keep
on
your
way
.
O
,
you’re
well
met
.
The
hoarded
plague
o’
th’
gods
Requite
your
love
!
Peace
,
peace
!
Be
not
so
loud
.
,
to
the
Tribunes
If
that
I
could
for
weeping
,
you
should
hear
—
Nay
,
and
you
shall
hear
some
.
(
To
Sicinius
.
)
Will
you
be
gone
?
,
to
Brutus
You
shall
stay
too
.
I
would
I
had
the
power
To
say
so
to
my
husband
.
,
to
Volumnia
Are
you
mankind
?
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
blessèd
heavens
!
More
noble
blows
than
ever
thou
wise
words
,
And
for
Rome’s
good
.
I’ll
tell
thee
what
—
yet
go
.
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
?
What
then
?
He’d
make
an
end
of
thy
posterity
.
Bastards
and
all
.
Good
man
,
the
wounds
that
he
does
bear
for
Rome
!
Come
,
come
,
peace
.
I
would
he
had
continued
to
his
country
ACT 4. SC. 2
As
he
began
,
and
not
unknit
himself
The
noble
knot
he
made
.
I
would
he
had
.
I
would
he
had
?
’Twas
you
incensed
the
rabble
.
Cats
,
that
can
judge
as
fitly
of
his
worth
As
I
can
of
those
mysteries
which
heaven
Will
not
have
Earth
earth
to
know
.
,
to
Sicinius
Pray
,
let’s
go
.
Now
,
pray
,
sir
,
get
you
gone
.
You
have
done
a
brave
deed
.
Ere
you
go
,
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
banished
,
does
exceed
you
all
.
Well
,
well
,
we’ll
leave
you
.
Why
stay
we
to
be
baited
With
one
that
wants
her
wits
?
Tribunes
exit
.
Take
my
prayers
with
you
.
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
.
You
have
told
them
home
,
And
,
by
my
troth
,
you
have
cause
.
You’ll
sup
with
me
?
Anger’s
my
meat
.
I
sup
upon
myself
And
so
shall
starve
with
feeding
.
(
To
Virgilia
.
)
Come
,
let’s
go
.
Leave
this
faint
puling
,
and
lament
as
I
do
,
In
anger
,
Juno-like
.
Come
,
come
,
come
.
They
exit
.
Fie
,
fie
,
fie
!
He
exits
.
ACT 4. SC. 3
Scene
3
Enter
a
Roman
(
Nicanor
)
and
a
Volsce
(
Adrian
)
.
I
know
you
well
,
sir
,
and
you
know
me
.
Your
name
I
think
is
Adrian
.
It
is
so
,
sir
.
Truly
,
I
have
forgot
you
.
I
am
a
Roman
,
and
my
services
are
,
as
you
are
,
against
’em
.
Know
you
me
yet
?
Nicanor
,
no
?
The
same
,
sir
.
You
had
more
beard
when
I
last
saw
you
,
but
your
favor
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
.
There
hath
been
in
Rome
strange
insurrections
,
the
people
against
the
senators
,
patricians
,
and
nobles
.
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
.
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
to
pluck
from
them
their
tribunes
forever
.
This
lies
glowing
,
I
can
tell
you
,
and
is
almost
mature
for
the
violent
breaking
out
.
Coriolanus
banished
?
Banished
,
sir
.
You
will
be
welcome
with
this
intelligence
,
Nicanor
.
The
day
serves
well
for
them
now
.
I
have
heard
ACT 4. SC. 4
it
said
the
fittest
time
to
corrupt
a
man’s
wife
is
when
she’s
fall’n
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
.
He
cannot
choose
.
I
am
most
fortunate
thus
accidentally
to
encounter
you
.
You
have
ended
my
business
,
and
I
will
merrily
accompany
you
home
.
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
?
A
most
royal
one
.
The
centurions
and
their
charges
,
distinctly
billeted
,
already
in
th’
entertainment
,
and
to
be
on
foot
at
an
hour’s
warning
.
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
.
You
take
my
part
from
me
,
sir
.
I
have
the
most
cause
to
be
glad
of
yours
.
Well
,
let
us
go
together
.
They
exit
.
Scene
4
Enter
Coriolanus
in
mean
apparel
,
disguised
,
and
muffled
.
A
goodly
city
is
this
Antium
.
City
,
’Tis
I
that
made
thy
widows
.
Many
an
heir
Of
these
fair
edifices
’fore
my
wars
Have
I
heard
groan
and
drop
.
Then
,
know
me
not
,
ACT 4. SC. 4
Lest
that
thy
wives
with
spits
and
boys
with
stones
In
puny
battle
slay
me
.
Enter
a
Citizen
.
Save
you
,
sir
.
And
you
.
Direct
me
,
if
it
be
your
will
,
Where
great
Aufidius
lies
.
Is
he
in
Antium
?
He
is
,
and
feasts
the
nobles
of
the
state
At
his
house
this
night
.
Which
is
his
house
,
beseech
you
?
This
here
before
you
.
Thank
you
,
sir
.
Farewell
.
Citizen
exits
.
O
world
,
thy
slippery
turns
!
Friends
now
fast
sworn
,
Whose
double
bosoms
seems
to
wear
one
heart
,
Whose
hours
,
whose
bed
,
whose
meal
and
exercise
Are
still
together
,
who
twin
,
as
’twere
,
in
love
Unseparable
,
shall
within
this
hour
,
On
a
dissension
of
a
doit
,
break
out
To
bitterest
enmity
;
so
fellest
foes
,
Whose
passions
and
whose
plots
have
broke
their
sleep
To
take
the
one
the
other
,
by
some
chance
,
Some
trick
not
worth
an
egg
,
shall
grow
dear
friends
And
interjoin
their
issues
.
So
with
me
:
My
birthplace
hate
I
,
and
my
love’s
upon
This
enemy
town
.
I’ll
enter
.
If
he
slay
me
,
He
does
fair
justice
;
if
he
give
me
way
,
I’ll
do
his
country
service
.
He
exits
.
ACT 4. SC. 5
Scene
5
Music
plays
.
Enter
a
Servingman
.
Wine
,
wine
,
wine
!
What
service
is
here
?
I
think
our
fellows
are
asleep
.
He
exits
.
Enter
another
Servingman
.
Where’s
Cotus
?
My
master
calls
for
him
.
Cotus
!
He
exits
.
Enter
Coriolanus
.
A
goodly
house
.
The
feast
smells
well
,
but
I
Appear
not
like
a
guest
.
Enter
the
First
Servingman
.
What
would
you
have
,
friend
?
Whence
are
you
?
Here’s
no
place
for
you
.
Pray
,
go
to
the
door
.
He
exits
.
I
have
deserved
no
better
entertainment
In
being
Coriolanus
.
Enter
Second
Servingman
.
Whence
are
you
,
sir
?
—
Has
the
porter
his
eyes
in
his
head
,
that
he
gives
entrance
to
such
companions
?
—
Pray
,
get
you
out
.
Away
!
Away
?
Get
you
away
.
Now
th’
art
troublesome
.
Are
you
so
brave
?
I’ll
have
you
talked
with
anon
.
Enter
Third
Servingman
;
the
First
,
entering
,
meets
him
.
What
fellow’s
this
?
ACT 4. SC. 5
A
strange
one
as
ever
I
looked
on
.
I
cannot
get
him
out
o’
th’
house
.
Prithee
,
call
my
master
to
him
.
He
steps
aside
.
What
have
you
to
do
here
,
fellow
?
Pray
you
,
avoid
the
house
.
Let
me
but
stand
.
I
will
not
hurt
your
hearth
.
What
are
you
?
A
gentleman
.
A
marv’llous
poor
one
.
True
,
so
I
am
.
Pray
you
,
poor
gentleman
,
take
up
some
other
station
.
Here’s
no
place
for
you
.
Pray
you
,
avoid
.
Come
.
Follow
your
function
,
go
,
and
batten
on
cold
bits
.
Pushes
him
away
from
him
.
What
,
you
will
not
?
—
Prithee
,
tell
my
master
what
a
strange
guest
he
has
here
.
And
I
shall
.
Second
Servingman
exits
.
Where
dwell’st
thou
?
Under
the
canopy
.
Under
the
canopy
?
Ay
.
Where’s
that
?
I’
th’
city
of
kites
and
crows
.
I’
th’
city
of
kites
and
crows
?
What
an
ass
it
is
!
Then
thou
dwell’st
with
daws
too
?
No
,
I
serve
not
thy
master
.
How
,
sir
?
Do
you
meddle
with
my
master
?
Ay
,
’tis
an
honester
service
than
to
meddle
with
thy
mistress
.
Thou
prat’st
and
prat’st
.
Serve
with
thy
trencher
.
Hence
!
Beats
him
away
.
Third
Servingman
exits
.
ACT 4. SC. 5
Enter
Aufidius
with
the
Second
Servingman
.
Where
is
this
fellow
?
Here
,
sir
.
I’d
have
beaten
him
like
a
dog
,
but
for
disturbing
the
lords
within
.
He
steps
aside
.
Whence
com’st
thou
?
What
wouldst
thou
?
Thy
name
?
Why
speak’st
not
?
Speak
,
man
.
What’s
thy
name
?
,
removing
his
muffler
If
,
Tullus
,
Not
yet
thou
know’st
me
,
and
seeing
me
,
dost
not
Think
me
for
the
man
I
am
,
necessity
Commands
me
name
myself
.
What
is
thy
name
?
A
name
unmusical
to
the
Volscians’
ears
And
harsh
in
sound
to
thine
.
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
?
Prepare
thy
brow
to
frown
.
Know’st
thou
me
yet
?
I
know
thee
not
.
Thy
name
?
My
name
is
Caius
Martius
,
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
shouldst
bear
me
.
Only
that
name
remains
.
The
cruelty
and
envy
of
the
people
,
ACT 4. SC. 5
Permitted
by
our
dastard
nobles
,
who
Have
all
forsook
me
,
hath
devoured
the
rest
,
And
suffered
me
by
th’
voice
of
slaves
to
be
Whooped
out
of
Rome
.
Now
this
extremity
Hath
brought
me
to
thy
hearth
,
not
out
of
hope
—
Mistake
me
not
—
to
save
my
life
;
for
if
I
had
feared
death
,
of
all
the
men
i’
th’
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
wilt
revenge
Thine
own
particular
wrongs
and
stop
those
maims
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
cankered
country
with
the
spleen
Of
all
the
under
fiends
.
But
if
so
be
Thou
dar’st
not
this
,
and
that
to
prove
more
fortunes
Thou
’rt
tired
,
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
followed
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
Martius
,
Martius
,
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
Martius
.
Let
me
twine
ACT 4. SC. 5
Mine
arms
about
that
body
,
whereagainst
My
grainèd
ash
an
hundred
times
hath
broke
And
scarred
the
moon
with
splinters
.
They
embrace
.
Here
I
clip
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
valor
.
Know
thou
first
,
I
loved
the
maid
I
married
;
never
man
Sighed
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
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
,
Unbuckling
helms
,
fisting
each
other’s
throat
,
And
waked
half
dead
with
nothing
.
Worthy
Martius
,
Had
we
no
other
quarrel
else
to
Rome
but
that
Thou
art
thence
banished
,
we
would
muster
all
From
twelve
to
seventy
and
,
pouring
war
Into
the
bowels
of
ungrateful
Rome
,
Like
a
bold
flood
o’erbear
’t
.
O
,
come
,
go
in
,
And
take
our
friendly
senators
by
th’
hands
,
Who
now
are
here
,
taking
their
leaves
of
me
,
Who
am
prepared
against
your
territories
,
Though
not
for
Rome
itself
.
You
bless
me
,
gods
!
Therefore
,
most
absolute
sir
,
if
thou
wilt
have
The
leading
of
thine
own
revenges
,
take
ACT 4. SC. 5
Th’
one
half
of
my
commission
and
set
down
—
As
best
thou
art
experienced
,
since
thou
know’st
Thy
country’s
strength
and
weakness
—
thine
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
ere
an
enemy
—
Yet
,
Martius
,
that
was
much
.
Your
hand
.
Most
welcome
!
Coriolanus
and
Aufidius
exit
.
Two
of
the
Servingmen
come
forward
.
Here’s
a
strange
alteration
!
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
.
What
an
arm
he
has
!
He
turned
me
about
with
his
finger
and
his
thumb
as
one
would
set
up
a
top
.
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
.
He
had
so
,
looking
as
it
were
—
Would
I
were
hanged
but
I
thought
there
was
more
in
him
than
I
could
think
.
So
did
I
,
I’ll
be
sworn
.
He
is
simply
the
rarest
man
i’
th’
world
.
I
think
he
is
.
But
a
greater
soldier
than
he
you
wot
one
.
Who
,
my
master
?
Nay
,
it’s
no
matter
for
that
.
Worth
six
on
him
.
Nay
,
not
so
neither
.
But
I
take
him
to
be
the
greater
soldier
.
ACT 4. SC. 5
Faith
,
look
you
,
one
cannot
tell
how
to
say
that
.
For
the
defense
of
a
town
our
general
is
excellent
.
Ay
,
and
for
an
assault
too
.
Enter
the
Third
Servingman
.
O
slaves
,
I
can
tell
you
news
,
news
,
you
rascals
!
What
,
what
,
what
?
Let’s
partake
!
I
would
not
be
a
Roman
,
of
all
nations
;
I
had
as
lief
be
a
condemned
man
.
Wherefore
?
Wherefore
?
Why
,
here’s
he
that
was
wont
to
thwack
our
general
,
Caius
Martius
.
Why
do
you
say
thwack
our
general
?
I
do
not
say
thwack
our
general
,
but
he
was
always
good
enough
for
him
.
Come
,
we
are
fellows
and
friends
.
He
was
ever
too
hard
for
him
;
I
have
heard
him
say
so
himself
.
He
was
too
hard
for
him
directly
,
to
say
the
truth
on
’t
,
before
Corioles
;
he
scotched
him
and
notched
him
like
a
carbonado
.
An
he
had
been
cannibally
given
,
he
might
have
boiled
and
eaten
him
too
.
But
,
more
of
thy
news
.
Why
,
he
is
so
made
on
here
within
as
if
he
were
son
and
heir
to
Mars
;
set
at
upper
end
o’
th’
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’
th’
eye
to
his
discourse
.
But
the
bottom
of
the
news
is
,
our
general
is
cut
i’
th’
middle
and
but
one
half
of
ACT 4. SC. 5
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
th’
ears
.
He
will
mow
all
down
before
him
and
leave
his
passage
polled
.
And
he’s
as
like
to
do
’t
as
any
man
I
can
imagine
.
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
whilest
he’s
in
directitude
.
Directitude
?
What’s
that
?
But
when
they
shall
see
,
sir
,
his
crest
up
again
,
and
the
man
in
blood
,
they
will
out
of
their
burrows
like
coneys
after
rain
,
and
revel
all
with
him
.
But
when
goes
this
forward
?
Tomorrow
,
today
,
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
.
Why
then
,
we
shall
have
a
stirring
world
again
.
This
peace
is
nothing
but
to
rust
iron
,
increase
tailors
,
and
breed
ballad-makers
.
Let
me
have
war
,
say
I
.
It
exceeds
peace
as
far
as
day
does
night
.
It’s
sprightly
walking
,
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
.
’Tis
so
,
and
as
wars
in
some
sort
may
be
said
to
be
a
ravisher
,
so
it
cannot
be
denied
but
peace
is
a
great
maker
of
cuckolds
.
ACT 4. SC. 6
Ay
,
and
it
makes
men
hate
one
another
.
Reason
:
because
they
then
less
need
one
another
.
The
wars
for
my
money
!
I
hope
to
see
Romans
as
cheap
as
Volscians
.
(
Noise
within
.
)
They
are
rising
;
they
are
rising
.
In
,
in
,
in
,
in
!
They
exit
.
Scene
6
Enter
the
two
Tribunes
.
Sicinius
and
Brutus
.
We
hear
not
of
him
,
neither
need
we
fear
him
.
His
remedies
are
tame
—
the
present
peace
,
And
quietness
of
the
people
,
which
before
Were
in
wild
hurry
.
Here
do
we
make
his
friends
Blush
that
the
world
goes
well
,
who
rather
had
,
Though
they
themselves
did
suffer
by
’t
,
behold
Dissentious
numbers
pest’ring
streets
than
see
Our
tradesmen
singing
in
their
shops
and
going
About
their
functions
friendly
.
We
stood
to
’t
in
good
time
.
Enter
Menenius
.
Is
this
Menenius
?
’Tis
he
,
’tis
he
.
O
,
he
is
grown
most
kind
Of
late
.
—
Hail
,
sir
.
Hail
to
you
both
.
Your
Coriolanus
is
not
much
missed
But
with
his
friends
.
The
commonwealth
doth
stand
,
And
so
would
do
were
he
more
angry
at
it
.
ACT 4. SC. 6
All’s
well
,
and
might
have
been
much
better
if
He
could
have
temporized
.
Where
is
he
,
hear
you
?
Nay
,
I
hear
nothing
;
His
mother
and
his
wife
hear
nothing
from
him
.
Enter
three
or
four
Citizens
.
,
to
the
Tribunes
The
gods
preserve
you
both
!
Good
e’en
,
our
neighbors
.
Good
e’en
to
you
all
,
good
e’en
to
you
all
.
Ourselves
,
our
wives
,
and
children
,
on
our
knees
Are
bound
to
pray
for
you
both
.
Live
,
and
thrive
!
Farewell
,
kind
neighbors
.
We
wished
Coriolanus
Had
loved
you
as
we
did
.
Now
the
gods
keep
you
!
Farewell
,
farewell
.
Citizens
exit
.
This
is
a
happier
and
more
comely
time
Than
when
these
fellows
ran
about
the
streets
Crying
confusion
.
Caius
Martius
was
A
worthy
officer
i’
th’
war
,
but
insolent
,
O’ercome
with
pride
,
ambitious
,
past
all
thinking
Self-loving
.
And
affecting
one
sole
throne
,
without
assistance
.
I
think
not
so
.
We
should
by
this
,
to
all
our
lamentation
,
If
he
had
gone
forth
consul
,
found
it
so
.
ACT 4. SC. 6
The
gods
have
well
prevented
it
,
and
Rome
Sits
safe
and
still
without
him
.
Enter
an
Aedile
.
Worthy
tribunes
,
There
is
a
slave
,
whom
we
have
put
in
prison
,
Reports
the
Volsces
with
two
several
powers
Are
entered
in
the
Roman
territories
,
And
with
the
deepest
malice
of
the
war
Destroy
what
lies
before
’em
.
’Tis
Aufidius
,
Who
,
hearing
of
our
Martius’
banishment
,
Thrusts
forth
his
horns
again
into
the
world
,
Which
were
inshelled
when
Martius
stood
for
Rome
,
And
durst
not
once
peep
out
.
Come
,
what
talk
you
of
Martius
?
Go
see
this
rumorer
whipped
.
It
cannot
be
The
Volsces
dare
break
with
us
.
Cannot
be
?
We
have
record
that
very
well
it
can
,
And
three
examples
of
the
like
hath
been
Within
my
age
.
But
reason
with
the
fellow
Before
you
punish
him
,
where
he
heard
this
,
Lest
you
shall
chance
to
whip
your
information
And
beat
the
messenger
who
bids
beware
Of
what
is
to
be
dreaded
.
Tell
not
me
.
I
know
this
cannot
be
.
Not
possible
.
Enter
a
Messenger
.
The
nobles
in
great
earnestness
are
going
ACT 4. SC. 6
All
to
the
Senate
House
.
Some
news
is
coming
That
turns
their
countenances
.
’Tis
this
slave
—
Go
whip
him
’fore
the
people’s
eyes
—
his
raising
,
Nothing
but
his
report
.
Yes
,
worthy
sir
,
The
slave’s
report
is
seconded
,
and
more
,
More
fearful
,
is
delivered
.
What
more
fearful
?
It
is
spoke
freely
out
of
many
mouths
—
How
probable
I
do
not
know
—
that
Martius
,
Joined
with
Aufidius
,
leads
a
power
’gainst
Rome
And
vows
revenge
as
spacious
as
between
The
young’st
and
oldest
thing
.
This
is
most
likely
!
Raised
only
that
the
weaker
sort
may
wish
Good
Martius
home
again
.
The
very
trick
on
’t
.
This
is
unlikely
;
He
and
Aufidius
can
no
more
atone
Than
violent’st
contrariety
.
Enter
a
Second
Messenger
.
You
are
sent
for
to
the
Senate
.
A
fearful
army
,
led
by
Caius
Martius
Associated
with
Aufidius
,
rages
Upon
our
territories
,
and
have
already
O’erborne
their
way
,
consumed
with
fire
and
took
What
lay
before
them
.
Enter
Cominius
.
,
to
the
Tribunes
O
,
you
have
made
good
work
!
What
news
?
What
news
?
ACT 4. SC. 6
,
to
the
Tribunes
You
have
holp
to
ravish
your
own
daughters
and
To
melt
the
city
leads
upon
your
pates
,
To
see
your
wives
dishonored
to
your
noses
—
What’s
the
news
?
What’s
the
news
?
,
to
the
Tribunes
Your
temples
burnèd
in
their
cement
,
and
Your
franchises
,
whereon
you
stood
,
confined
Into
an
auger’s
bore
.
Pray
now
,
your
news
?
—
You
have
made
fair
work
,
I
fear
me
.
—
Pray
,
your
news
?
If
Martius
should
be
joined
with
Volscians
—
If
?
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
Than
boys
pursuing
summer
butterflies
Or
butchers
killing
flies
.
,
to
the
Tribunes
You
have
made
good
work
,
You
and
your
apron-men
,
you
that
stood
so
much
Upon
the
voice
of
occupation
and
The
breath
of
garlic
eaters
!
He’ll
shake
your
Rome
about
your
ears
.
As
Hercules
did
shake
down
mellow
fruit
.
You
have
made
fair
work
.
But
is
this
true
,
sir
?
Ay
,
and
you’ll
look
pale
Before
you
find
it
other
.
All
the
regions
Do
smilingly
revolt
,
and
who
resists
Are
mocked
for
valiant
ignorance
And
perish
constant
fools
.
Who
is
’t
can
blame
him
?
Your
enemies
and
his
find
something
in
him
.
ACT 4. SC. 6
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
charged
him
even
As
those
should
do
that
had
deserved
his
hate
And
therein
showed
like
enemies
.
’Tis
true
.
If
he
were
putting
to
my
house
the
brand
That
should
consume
it
,
I
have
not
the
face
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
S’
incapable
of
help
.
Say
not
we
brought
it
.
How
?
Was
’t
we
?
We
loved
him
,
but
like
beasts
And
cowardly
nobles
,
gave
way
unto
your
clusters
,
Who
did
hoot
him
out
o’
th’
city
.
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
defense
That
Rome
can
make
against
them
.
Enter
a
troop
of
Citizens
.
Here
come
the
clusters
.
—
And
is
Aufidius
with
him
?
You
are
they
ACT 4. SC. 6
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
deserved
it
.
Faith
,
we
hear
fearful
news
.
For
mine
own
part
,
When
I
said
banish
him
,
I
said
’twas
pity
.
And
so
did
I
.
And
so
did
I
.
And
,
to
say
the
truth
,
so
did
very
many
of
us
.
That
we
did
we
did
for
the
best
;
and
though
we
willingly
consented
to
his
banishment
,
yet
it
was
against
our
will
.
You’re
goodly
things
,
you
voices
!
You
have
made
good
work
,
you
and
your
cry
!
—
Shall
’s
to
the
Capitol
?
O
,
ay
,
what
else
?
Both
exit
.
Go
,
masters
,
get
you
home
.
Be
not
dismayed
.
These
are
a
side
that
would
be
glad
to
have
This
true
which
they
so
seem
to
fear
.
Go
home
,
And
show
no
sign
of
fear
.
The
gods
be
good
to
us
!
Come
,
masters
,
let’s
home
.
I
ever
said
we
were
i’
th’
wrong
when
we
banished
him
.
So
did
we
all
.
But
,
come
,
let’s
home
.
Citizens
exit
.
I
do
not
like
this
news
.
Nor
I
.
ACT 4. SC. 7
Let’s
to
the
Capitol
.
Would
half
my
wealth
Would
buy
this
for
a
lie
.
Pray
,
let’s
go
.
Tribunes
exit
.
Scene
7
Enter
Aufidius
with
his
Lieutenant
.
Do
they
still
fly
to
th’
Roman
?
I
do
not
know
what
witchcraft’s
in
him
,
but
Your
soldiers
use
him
as
the
grace
’fore
meat
,
Their
talk
at
table
,
and
their
thanks
at
end
;
And
you
are
dark’ned
in
this
action
,
sir
,
Even
by
your
own
.
I
cannot
help
it
now
,
Unless
by
using
means
I
lame
the
foot
Of
our
design
.
He
bears
himself
more
proudlier
,
Even
to
my
person
,
than
I
thought
he
would
When
first
I
did
embrace
him
.
Yet
his
nature
In
that’s
no
changeling
,
and
I
must
excuse
What
cannot
be
amended
.
Yet
I
wish
,
sir
—
I
mean
for
your
particular
—
you
had
not
Joined
in
commission
with
him
,
but
either
Have
borne
the
action
of
yourself
or
else
To
him
had
left
it
solely
.
I
understand
thee
well
,
and
be
thou
sure
,
When
he
shall
come
to
his
account
,
he
knows
not
What
I
can
urge
against
him
,
although
it
seems
,
And
so
he
thinks
and
is
no
less
apparent
To
th’
vulgar
eye
,
that
he
bears
all
things
fairly
,
And
shows
good
husbandry
for
the
Volscian
state
,
ACT 4. SC. 7
Fights
dragonlike
,
and
does
achieve
as
soon
As
draw
his
sword
;
yet
he
hath
left
undone
That
which
shall
break
his
neck
or
hazard
mine
Whene’er
we
come
to
our
account
.
Sir
,
I
beseech
you
,
think
you
he’ll
carry
Rome
?
All
places
yields
to
him
ere
he
sits
down
,
And
the
nobility
of
Rome
are
his
;
The
Senators
and
Patricians
love
him
too
.
The
Tribunes
are
no
soldiers
,
and
their
people
Will
be
as
rash
in
the
repeal
as
hasty
To
expel
him
thence
.
I
think
he’ll
be
to
Rome
As
is
the
osprey
to
the
fish
,
who
takes
it
By
sovereignty
of
nature
.
First
,
he
was
A
noble
servant
to
them
,
but
he
could
not
Carry
his
honors
even
.
Whether
’twas
pride
,
Which
out
of
daily
fortune
ever
taints
The
happy
man
;
whether
defect
of
judgment
,
To
fail
in
the
disposing
of
those
chances
Which
he
was
lord
of
;
or
whether
nature
,
Not
to
be
other
than
one
thing
,
not
moving
From
th’
casque
to
th’
cushion
,
but
commanding
peace
Even
with
the
same
austerity
and
garb
As
he
controlled
the
war
;
but
one
of
these
—
As
he
hath
spices
of
them
all
—
not
all
,
For
I
dare
so
far
free
him
—
made
him
feared
,
So
hated
,
and
so
banished
.
But
he
has
a
merit
To
choke
it
in
the
utt’rance
.
So
our
virtues
Lie
in
th’
interpretation
of
the
time
,
And
power
,
unto
itself
most
commendable
,
Hath
not
a
tomb
so
evident
as
a
chair
T’
extol
what
it
hath
done
.
One
fire
drives
out
one
fire
,
one
nail
one
nail
;
ACT 4. SC. 7
Rights
by
rights
falter
;
strengths
by
strengths
do
fail
.
Come
,
let’s
away
.
When
,
Caius
,
Rome
is
thine
,
Thou
art
poor’st
of
all
;
then
shortly
art
thou
mine
.
They
exit
.
ACT
5
Scene
1
Enter
Menenius
,
Cominius
,
Sicinius
,
Brutus
(
the
two
Tribunes
)
,
with
others
.
No
,
I’ll
not
go
.
You
hear
what
he
hath
said
Which
was
sometime
his
general
,
who
loved
him
In
a
most
dear
particular
.
He
called
me
father
,
But
what
o’
that
?
Go
you
that
banished
him
;
A
mile
before
his
tent
,
fall
down
,
and
knee
The
way
into
his
mercy
.
Nay
,
if
he
coyed
To
hear
Cominius
speak
,
I’ll
keep
at
home
.
He
would
not
seem
to
know
me
.
Do
you
hear
?
Yet
one
time
he
did
call
me
by
my
name
.
I
urged
our
old
acquaintance
,
and
the
drops
That
we
have
bled
together
.
Coriolanus
He
would
not
answer
to
,
forbade
all
names
.
He
was
a
kind
of
nothing
,
titleless
,
Till
he
had
forged
himself
a
name
o’
th’
fire
Of
burning
Rome
.
,
to
the
Tribunes
Why
,
so
;
you
have
made
good
work
!
A
pair
of
tribunes
that
have
wracked
Rome
To
make
coals
cheap
!
A
noble
memory
!
ACT 5. SC. 1
I
minded
him
how
royal
’twas
to
pardon
When
it
was
less
expected
.
He
replied
It
was
a
bare
petition
of
a
state
To
one
whom
they
had
punished
.
Very
well
.
Could
he
say
less
?
I
offered
to
awaken
his
regard
For
’s
private
friends
.
His
answer
to
me
was
He
could
not
stay
to
pick
them
in
a
pile
Of
noisome
musty
chaff
.
He
said
’twas
folly
For
one
poor
grain
or
two
to
leave
unburnt
And
still
to
nose
th’
offense
.
For
one
poor
grain
or
two
!
I
am
one
of
those
!
His
mother
,
wife
,
his
child
,
And
this
brave
fellow
too
,
we
are
the
grains
;
You
are
the
musty
chaff
,
and
you
are
smelt
Above
the
moon
.
We
must
be
burnt
for
you
.
Nay
,
pray
,
be
patient
.
If
you
refuse
your
aid
In
this
so-never-needed
help
,
yet
do
not
Upbraid
’s
with
our
distress
.
But
sure
,
if
you
Would
be
your
country’s
pleader
,
your
good
tongue
,
More
than
the
instant
army
we
can
make
,
Might
stop
our
countryman
.
No
,
I’ll
not
meddle
.
Pray
you
,
go
to
him
.
What
should
I
do
?
Only
make
trial
what
your
love
can
do
For
Rome
,
towards
Martius
.
Well
,
and
say
that
Martius
Return
me
,
as
Cominius
is
returned
,
unheard
,
ACT 5. SC. 1
What
then
?
But
as
a
discontented
friend
,
Grief-shot
with
his
unkindness
?
Say
’t
be
so
?
Yet
your
good
will
Must
have
that
thanks
from
Rome
after
the
measure
As
you
intended
well
.
I’ll
undertake
’t
.
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
dined
.
The
veins
unfilled
,
our
blood
is
cold
,
and
then
We
pout
upon
the
morning
,
are
unapt
To
give
or
to
forgive
;
but
when
we
have
stuffed
These
pipes
and
these
conveyances
of
our
blood
With
wine
and
feeding
,
we
have
suppler
souls
Than
in
our
priestlike
fasts
.
Therefore
I’ll
watch
him
Till
he
be
dieted
to
my
request
,
And
then
I’ll
set
upon
him
.
You
know
the
very
road
into
his
kindness
And
cannot
lose
your
way
.
Good
faith
,
I’ll
prove
him
,
Speed
how
it
will
.
I
shall
ere
long
have
knowledge
Of
my
success
.
He
exits
.
He’ll
never
hear
him
.
Not
?
I
tell
you
,
he
does
sit
in
gold
,
his
eye
Red
as
’twould
burn
Rome
;
and
his
injury
The
jailor
to
his
pity
.
I
kneeled
before
him
;
’Twas
very
faintly
he
said
Rise
;
dismissed
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
ACT 5. SC. 2
For
mercy
to
his
country
.
Therefore
let’s
hence
And
with
our
fair
entreaties
haste
them
on
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
Menenius
to
the
Watch
,
or
Guard
.
Stay
!
Whence
are
you
?
Stand
,
and
go
back
.
You
guard
like
men
;
’tis
well
.
But
by
your
leave
,
I
am
an
officer
of
state
and
come
To
speak
with
Coriolanus
.
From
whence
?
From
Rome
.
You
may
not
pass
;
you
must
return
.
Our
general
Will
no
more
hear
from
thence
.
You’ll
see
your
Rome
embraced
with
fire
before
You’ll
speak
with
Coriolanus
.
Good
my
friends
,
If
you
have
heard
your
general
talk
of
Rome
And
of
his
friends
there
,
it
is
lots
to
blanks
My
name
hath
touched
your
ears
.
It
is
Menenius
.
Be
it
so
;
go
back
.
The
virtue
of
your
name
Is
not
here
passable
.
I
tell
thee
,
fellow
,
Thy
general
is
my
lover
.
I
have
been
The
book
of
his
good
acts
,
whence
men
have
read
His
fame
unparalleled
happily
amplified
;
For
I
have
ever
verified
my
friends
—
Of
whom
he’s
chief
—
with
all
the
size
that
verity
Would
without
lapsing
suffer
.
Nay
,
sometimes
,
ACT 5. SC. 2
Like
to
a
bowl
upon
a
subtle
ground
,
I
have
tumbled
past
the
throw
,
and
in
his
praise
Have
almost
stamped
the
leasing
.
Therefore
,
fellow
,
I
must
have
leave
to
pass
.
Faith
,
sir
,
if
you
had
told
as
many
lies
in
his
behalf
as
you
have
uttered
words
in
your
own
,
you
should
not
pass
here
,
no
,
though
it
were
as
virtuous
to
lie
as
to
live
chastely
.
Therefore
,
go
back
.
Prithee
,
fellow
,
remember
my
name
is
Menenius
,
always
factionary
on
the
party
of
your
general
.
Howsoever
you
have
been
his
liar
,
as
you
say
you
have
,
I
am
one
that
,
telling
true
under
him
,
must
say
you
cannot
pass
.
Therefore
,
go
back
.
Has
he
dined
,
can’st
thou
tell
?
For
I
would
not
speak
with
him
till
after
dinner
.
You
are
a
Roman
,
are
you
?
I
am
,
as
thy
general
is
.
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
.
Sirrah
,
if
thy
captain
knew
I
were
here
,
he
would
use
me
with
estimation
.
Come
,
my
captain
knows
you
not
.
I
mean
thy
general
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
My
general
cares
not
for
you
.
Back
,
I
say
,
go
,
lest
I
let
forth
your
half
pint
of
blood
.
Back
!
That’s
the
utmost
of
your
having
.
Back
!
Nay
,
but
fellow
,
fellow
—
Enter
Coriolanus
with
Aufidius
.
What’s
the
matter
?
to
First
Watch
Now
,
you
companion
,
I’ll
say
an
errand
for
you
.
You
shall
know
now
that
I
am
in
estimation
;
you
shall
perceive
that
a
Jack
guardant
cannot
office
me
from
my
son
Coriolanus
.
Guess
but
by
my
entertainment
with
him
if
thou
stand’st
not
i’
th’
state
of
hanging
or
of
some
death
more
long
in
spectatorship
and
crueler
in
suffering
;
behold
now
presently
,
and
swoon
for
what’s
to
come
upon
thee
.
(
To
Coriolanus
.
)
The
glorious
gods
sit
in
hourly
synod
about
thy
particular
prosperity
and
love
thee
no
worse
than
thy
old
father
Menenius
does
!
O
my
son
,
my
son
!
(
He
weeps
.
)
Thou
art
preparing
fire
for
us
;
look
thee
,
here’s
water
to
quench
it
.
I
was
hardly
moved
to
come
to
thee
;
but
being
assured
none
but
myself
could
move
thee
,
I
have
been
blown
out
of
your
gates
with
sighs
,
and
conjure
thee
to
pardon
Rome
and
thy
petitionary
countrymen
.
The
good
gods
assuage
thy
wrath
and
turn
the
dregs
of
it
upon
this
varlet
here
,
this
,
who
,
like
a
block
,
hath
denied
my
access
to
thee
.
Away
!
How
?
Away
?
Wife
,
mother
,
child
,
I
know
not
.
My
affairs
Are
servanted
to
others
.
Though
I
owe
My
revenge
properly
,
my
remission
lies
In
Volscian
breasts
.
That
we
have
been
familiar
,
Ingrate
forgetfulness
shall
poison
rather
ACT 5. SC. 3
Than
pity
note
how
much
.
Therefore
,
begone
.
Mine
ears
against
your
suits
are
stronger
than
Your
gates
against
my
force
.
Yet
,
for
I
loved
thee
,
Take
this
along
;
I
writ
it
for
thy
sake
,
He
gives
Menenius
a
paper
.
And
would
have
sent
it
.
Another
word
,
Menenius
,
I
will
not
hear
thee
speak
.
—
This
man
,
Aufidius
,
Was
my
beloved
in
Rome
;
yet
thou
behold’st
.
You
keep
a
constant
temper
.
They
exit
.
The
Guard
and
Menenius
remain
.
Now
,
sir
,
is
your
name
Menenius
?
’Tis
a
spell
,
you
see
,
of
much
power
.
You
know
the
way
home
again
.
Do
you
hear
how
we
are
shent
for
keeping
your
Greatness
back
?
What
cause
do
you
think
I
have
to
swoon
?
I
neither
care
for
th’
world
nor
your
general
.
For
such
things
as
you
,
I
can
scarce
think
there’s
any
,
you’re
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
!
He
exits
.
A
noble
fellow
,
I
warrant
him
.
The
worthy
fellow
is
our
general
.
He’s
the
rock
,
the
oak
not
to
be
wind-shaken
.
Watch
exit
.
Scene
3
Enter
Coriolanus
and
Aufidius
.
We
will
before
the
walls
of
Rome
tomorrow
Set
down
our
host
.
My
partner
in
this
action
,
ACT 5. SC. 3
You
must
report
to
th’
Volscian
lords
how
plainly
I
have
borne
this
business
.
Only
their
ends
You
have
respected
,
stopped
your
ears
against
The
general
suit
of
Rome
,
never
admitted
A
private
whisper
,
no
,
not
with
such
friends
That
thought
them
sure
of
you
.
This
last
old
man
,
Whom
with
a
cracked
heart
I
have
sent
to
Rome
,
Loved
me
above
the
measure
of
a
father
,
Nay
,
godded
me
indeed
.
Their
latest
refuge
Was
to
send
him
,
for
whose
old
love
I
have
—
Though
I
showed
sourly
to
him
—
once
more
offered
The
first
conditions
,
which
they
did
refuse
And
cannot
now
accept
,
to
grace
him
only
That
thought
he
could
do
more
.
A
very
little
I
have
yielded
to
.
Fresh
embassies
and
suits
,
Nor
from
the
state
nor
private
friends
,
hereafter
Will
I
lend
ear
to
.
Shout
within
.
Ha
?
What
shout
is
this
?
Shall
I
be
tempted
to
infringe
my
vow
In
the
same
time
’tis
made
?
I
will
not
.
Enter
Virgilia
,
Volumnia
,
Valeria
,
young
Martius
,
with
Attendants
.
My
wife
comes
foremost
,
then
the
honored
mold
Wherein
this
trunk
was
framed
,
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
.
Virgilia
curtsies
.
What
is
that
curtsy
worth
?
Or
those
doves’
eyes
,
Which
can
make
gods
forsworn
?
I
melt
and
am
not
Of
stronger
earth
than
others
.
Volumnia
bows
.
My
mother
bows
,
As
if
Olympus
to
a
molehill
should
In
supplication
nod
;
and
my
young
boy
ACT 5. SC. 3
Hath
an
aspect
of
intercession
which
Great
Nature
cries
Deny
not
!
Let
the
Volsces
Plow
Rome
and
harrow
Italy
,
I’ll
never
Be
such
a
gosling
to
obey
instinct
,
but
stand
As
if
a
man
were
author
of
himself
,
And
knew
no
other
kin
.
My
lord
and
husband
.
These
eyes
are
not
the
same
I
wore
in
Rome
.
The
sorrow
that
delivers
us
thus
changed
Makes
you
think
so
.
Like
a
dull
actor
now
,
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
.
They
kiss
.
O
,
a
kiss
Long
as
my
exile
,
sweet
as
my
revenge
!
Now
,
by
the
jealous
queen
of
heaven
,
that
kiss
I
carried
from
thee
,
dear
,
and
my
true
lip
Hath
virgined
it
e’er
since
.
You
gods
!
I
prate
And
the
most
noble
mother
of
the
world
Leave
unsaluted
.
Sink
,
my
knee
,
i’
th’
earth
;
Kneels
.
Of
thy
deep
duty
more
impression
show
Than
that
of
common
sons
.
O
,
stand
up
blest
,
He
rises
.
Whilst
with
no
softer
cushion
than
the
flint
I
kneel
before
thee
and
unproperly
Show
duty
,
as
mistaken
all
this
while
Between
the
child
and
parent
.
She
kneels
.
What’s
this
?
Your
knees
to
me
?
To
your
corrected
son
?
He
raises
her
up
.
Then
let
the
pebbles
on
the
hungry
beach
ACT 5. SC. 3
Fillip
the
stars
!
Then
let
the
mutinous
winds
Strike
the
proud
cedars
’gainst
the
fiery
sun
,
Murdering
impossibility
to
make
What
cannot
be
slight
work
.
Thou
art
my
warrior
;
I
holp
to
frame
thee
.
Do
you
know
this
lady
?
The
noble
sister
of
Publicola
,
The
moon
of
Rome
,
chaste
as
the
icicle
That’s
curdied
by
the
frost
from
purest
snow
And
hangs
on
Dian’s
temple
!
—
Dear
Valeria
.
,
presenting
young
Martius
This
is
a
poor
epitome
of
yours
,
Which
by
th’
interpretation
of
full
time
May
show
like
all
yourself
.
,
to
young
Martius
The
god
of
soldiers
,
With
the
consent
of
supreme
Jove
,
inform
Thy
thoughts
with
nobleness
,
that
thou
mayst
prove
To
shame
unvulnerable
,
and
stick
i’
th’
wars
Like
a
great
seamark
standing
every
flaw
And
saving
those
that
eye
thee
.
,
to
young
Martius
Your
knee
,
sirrah
.
He
kneels
.
That’s
my
brave
boy
!
Even
he
,
your
wife
,
this
lady
,
and
myself
Are
suitors
to
you
.
Young
Martius
rises
.
I
beseech
you
,
peace
;
Or
if
you’d
ask
,
remember
this
before
:
The
thing
I
have
forsworn
to
grant
may
never
Be
held
by
you
denials
.
Do
not
bid
me
Dismiss
my
soldiers
or
capitulate
Again
with
Rome’s
mechanics
.
Tell
me
not
Wherein
I
seem
unnatural
;
desire
not
T’
allay
my
rages
and
revenges
with
Your
colder
reasons
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
O
,
no
more
,
no
more
!
You
have
said
you
will
not
grant
us
anything
;
For
we
have
nothing
else
to
ask
but
that
Which
you
deny
already
.
Yet
we
will
ask
,
That
if
you
fail
in
our
request
,
the
blame
May
hang
upon
your
hardness
.
Therefore
hear
us
.
Aufidius
,
and
you
Volsces
,
mark
,
for
we’ll
Hear
naught
from
Rome
in
private
.
He
sits
.
Your
request
?
Should
we
be
silent
and
not
speak
,
our
raiment
And
state
of
bodies
would
bewray
what
life
We
have
led
since
thy
exile
.
Think
with
thyself
How
more
unfortunate
than
all
living
women
Are
we
come
hither
;
since
that
thy
sight
,
which
should
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
The
son
,
the
husband
,
and
the
father
tearing
His
country’s
bowels
out
.
And
to
poor
we
Thine
enmity’s
most
capital
.
Thou
barr’st
us
Our
prayers
to
the
gods
,
which
is
a
comfort
That
all
but
we
enjoy
.
For
how
can
we
—
Alas
,
how
can
we
—
for
our
country
pray
,
Whereto
we
are
bound
,
together
with
thy
victory
,
Whereto
we
are
bound
?
Alack
,
or
we
must
lose
The
country
,
our
dear
nurse
,
or
else
thy
person
,
Our
comfort
in
the
country
.
We
must
find
An
evident
calamity
,
though
we
had
Our
wish
,
which
side
should
win
,
for
either
thou
Must
as
a
foreign
recreant
be
led
With
manacles
through
our
streets
,
or
else
ACT 5. SC. 3
Triumphantly
tread
on
thy
country’s
ruin
And
bear
the
palm
for
having
bravely
shed
Thy
wife
and
children’s
blood
.
For
myself
,
son
,
I
purpose
not
to
wait
on
fortune
till
These
wars
determine
.
If
I
cannot
persuade
thee
Rather
to
show
a
noble
grace
to
both
parts
Than
seek
the
end
of
one
,
thou
shalt
no
sooner
March
to
assault
thy
country
than
to
tread
—
Trust
to
’t
,
thou
shalt
not
—
on
thy
mother’s
womb
That
brought
thee
to
this
world
.
Ay
,
and
mine
,
That
brought
you
forth
this
boy
to
keep
your
name
Living
to
time
.
He
shall
not
tread
on
me
.
I’ll
run
away
till
I
am
bigger
,
but
then
I’ll
fight
.
Not
of
a
woman’s
tenderness
to
be
Requires
nor
child
nor
woman’s
face
to
see
.
—
I
have
sat
too
long
.
He
rises
.
Nay
,
go
not
from
us
thus
.
If
it
were
so
,
that
our
request
did
tend
To
save
the
Romans
,
thereby
to
destroy
The
Volsces
whom
you
serve
,
you
might
condemn
us
As
poisonous
of
your
honor
.
No
,
our
suit
Is
that
you
reconcile
them
,
while
the
Volsces
May
say
This
mercy
we
have
showed
,
the
Romans
This
we
received
,
and
each
in
either
side
Give
the
all-hail
to
thee
and
cry
Be
blest
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
dogged
with
curses
,
Whose
chronicle
thus
writ
:
The
man
was
noble
,
But
with
his
last
attempt
he
wiped
it
out
,
ACT 5. SC. 3
Destroyed
his
country
,
and
his
name
remains
To
th’
ensuing
age
abhorred
.
Speak
to
me
,
son
.
Thou
hast
affected
the
fine
strains
of
honor
To
imitate
the
graces
of
the
gods
,
To
tear
with
thunder
the
wide
cheeks
o’
th’
air
And
yet
to
charge
thy
sulfur
with
a
bolt
That
should
but
rive
an
oak
.
Why
dost
not
speak
?
Think’st
thou
it
honorable
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
Than
can
our
reasons
.
—
There’s
no
man
in
the
world
More
bound
to
’s
mother
,
yet
here
he
lets
me
prate
Like
one
i’
th’
stocks
.
Thou
hast
never
in
thy
life
Showed
thy
dear
mother
any
courtesy
When
she
,
poor
hen
,
fond
of
no
second
brood
,
Has
clucked
thee
to
the
wars
and
safely
home
,
Loaden
with
honor
.
Say
my
request’s
unjust
And
spurn
me
back
;
but
if
it
be
not
so
,
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
.
They
kneel
.
This
is
the
last
.
So
,
we
will
home
to
Rome
And
die
among
our
neighbors
.
—
Nay
,
behold
’s
.
This
boy
that
cannot
tell
what
he
would
have
,
But
kneels
and
holds
up
hands
for
fellowship
,
Does
reason
our
petition
with
more
strength
Than
thou
hast
to
deny
’t
.
—
Come
,
let
us
go
.
They
rise
.
This
fellow
had
a
Volscian
to
his
mother
,
His
wife
is
in
Corioles
,
and
his
child
ACT 5. SC. 3
Like
him
by
chance
.
—
Yet
give
us
our
dispatch
.
I
am
hushed
until
our
city
be
afire
,
And
then
I’ll
speak
a
little
.
He
holds
her
by
the
hand
,
silent
.
O
mother
,
mother
!
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
prevailed
,
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
,
would
you
have
heard
A
mother
less
?
Or
granted
less
,
Aufidius
?
I
was
moved
withal
.
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
!
He
speaks
with
them
aside
.
,
aside
I
am
glad
thou
hast
set
thy
mercy
and
thy
honor
At
difference
in
thee
.
Out
of
that
I’ll
work
Myself
a
former
fortune
.
,
to
the
Women
Ay
,
by
and
by
;
But
we
will
drink
together
,
and
you
shall
bear
A
better
witness
back
than
words
,
which
we
,
On
like
conditions
,
will
have
countersealed
.
Come
,
enter
with
us
.
Ladies
,
you
deserve
To
have
a
temple
built
you
.
All
the
swords
ACT 5. SC. 4
In
Italy
,
and
her
confederate
arms
,
Could
not
have
made
this
peace
.
They
exit
.
Scene
4
Enter
Menenius
and
Sicinius
.
See
you
yond
coign
o’
th’
Capitol
,
yond
cornerstone
?
Why
,
what
of
that
?
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
.
Is
’t
possible
that
so
short
a
time
can
alter
the
condition
of
a
man
?
There
is
differency
between
a
grub
and
a
butterfly
,
yet
your
butterfly
was
a
grub
.
This
Martius
is
grown
from
man
to
dragon
.
He
has
wings
;
he’s
more
than
a
creeping
thing
.
He
loved
his
mother
dearly
.
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
.
Yes
,
mercy
,
if
you
report
him
truly
.
I
paint
him
in
the
character
.
Mark
what
mercy
his
mother
shall
bring
from
him
.
There
is
ACT 5. SC. 4
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
.
The
gods
be
good
unto
us
.
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
.
Enter
a
Messenger
.
,
to
Sicinius
Sir
,
if
you’d
save
your
life
,
fly
to
your
house
.
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
.
What’s
the
news
?
Good
news
,
good
news
!
The
ladies
have
prevailed
.
The
Volscians
are
dislodged
and
Martius
gone
.
A
merrier
day
did
never
yet
greet
Rome
,
No
,
not
th’
expulsion
of
the
Tarquins
.
Friend
,
Art
thou
certain
this
is
true
?
Is
’t
most
certain
?
As
certain
as
I
know
the
sun
is
fire
.
Where
have
you
lurked
that
you
make
doubt
of
it
?
Ne’er
through
an
arch
so
hurried
the
blown
tide
As
the
recomforted
through
th’
gates
.
Why
,
hark
you
!
Trumpets
,
hautboys
,
drums
beat
,
all
together
.
The
trumpets
,
sackbuts
,
psalteries
,
and
fifes
,
Tabors
and
cymbals
,
and
the
shouting
Romans
Make
the
sun
dance
.
Hark
you
!
A
shout
within
.
ACT 5. SC. 5
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
A
sea
and
land
full
.
You
have
prayed
well
today
.
This
morning
for
ten
thousand
of
your
throats
I’d
not
have
given
a
doit
.
Hark
,
how
they
joy
!
Sound
still
with
the
shouts
.
,
to
Second
Messenger
First
,
the
gods
bless
you
for
your
tidings
;
next
,
accept
my
thankfulness
.
Sir
,
we
have
all
great
cause
to
give
great
thanks
.
They
are
near
the
city
?
Almost
at
point
to
enter
.
We’ll
meet
them
,
and
help
the
joy
.
They
exit
.
Scene
5
Enter
two
Senators
,
with
Ladies
(
Volumnia
,
Virgilia
,
Valeria
)
passing
over
the
stage
,
with
other
Lords
.
Behold
our
patroness
,
the
life
of
Rome
!
Call
all
your
tribes
together
,
praise
the
gods
,
And
make
triumphant
fires
.
Strew
flowers
before
them
,
Unshout
the
noise
that
banished
Martius
,
Repeal
him
with
the
welcome
of
his
mother
.
Cry
Welcome
,
ladies
,
welcome
!
Welcome
,
ladies
,
welcome
!
A
flourish
with
drums
and
trumpets
.
They
exit
.
ACT 5. SC. 6
Scene
6
Enter
Tullus
Aufidius
,
with
Attendants
.
Go
tell
the
lords
o’
th’
city
I
am
here
.
Deliver
them
this
paper
.
(
He
gives
them
a
paper
.
)
Having
read
it
,
Bid
them
repair
to
th’
marketplace
,
where
I
,
Even
in
theirs
and
in
the
commons’
ears
,
Will
vouch
the
truth
of
it
.
Him
I
accuse
The
city
ports
by
this
hath
entered
and
Intends
t’
appear
before
the
people
,
hoping
To
purge
himself
with
words
.
Dispatch
.
The
Attendants
exit
.
Enter
three
or
four
Conspirators
of
Aufidius’s
faction
.
Most
welcome
!
How
is
it
with
our
general
?
Even
so
As
with
a
man
by
his
own
alms
empoisoned
And
with
his
charity
slain
.
Most
noble
sir
,
If
you
do
hold
the
same
intent
wherein
You
wished
us
parties
,
we’ll
deliver
you
Of
your
great
danger
.
Sir
,
I
cannot
tell
.
We
must
proceed
as
we
do
find
the
people
.
The
people
will
remain
uncertain
whilst
’Twixt
you
there’s
difference
,
but
the
fall
of
either
Makes
the
survivor
heir
of
all
.
I
know
it
,
And
my
pretext
to
strike
at
him
admits
A
good
construction
.
I
raised
him
,
and
I
pawned
Mine
honor
for
his
truth
,
who
,
being
so
heightened
,
ACT 5. SC. 6
He
watered
his
new
plants
with
dews
of
flattery
,
Seducing
so
my
friends
;
and
to
this
end
,
He
bowed
his
nature
,
never
known
before
But
to
be
rough
,
unswayable
,
and
free
.
Sir
,
his
stoutness
When
he
did
stand
for
consul
,
which
he
lost
By
lack
of
stooping
—
That
I
would
have
spoke
of
.
Being
banished
for
’t
,
he
came
unto
my
hearth
,
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
,
My
best
and
freshest
men
;
served
his
designments
In
mine
own
person
;
holp
to
reap
the
fame
Which
he
did
end
all
his
;
and
took
some
pride
To
do
myself
this
wrong
;
till
at
the
last
I
seemed
his
follower
,
not
partner
;
and
He
waged
me
with
his
countenance
as
if
I
had
been
mercenary
.
So
he
did
,
my
lord
.
The
army
marvelled
at
it
,
and
,
in
the
last
,
When
he
had
carried
Rome
and
that
we
looked
For
no
less
spoil
than
glory
—
There
was
it
For
which
my
sinews
shall
be
stretched
upon
him
.
At
a
few
drops
of
women’s
rheum
,
which
are
As
cheap
as
lies
,
he
sold
the
blood
and
labor
Of
our
great
action
.
Therefore
shall
he
die
,
And
I’ll
renew
me
in
his
fall
.
But
hark
!
Drums
and
trumpets
sounds
,
with
great
shouts
of
the
people
.
Your
native
town
you
entered
like
a
post
ACT 5. SC. 6
And
had
no
welcomes
home
,
but
he
returns
Splitting
the
air
with
noise
.
And
patient
fools
,
Whose
children
he
hath
slain
,
their
base
throats
tear
With
giving
him
glory
.
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
pronounced
shall
bury
His
reasons
with
his
body
.
Say
no
more
.
Enter
the
Lords
of
the
city
.
Here
come
the
lords
.
You
are
most
welcome
home
.
I
have
not
deserved
it
.
But
,
worthy
lords
,
have
you
with
heed
perused
What
I
have
written
to
you
?
We
have
.
And
grieve
to
hear
’t
.
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
.
Enter
Coriolanus
marching
with
Drum
and
Colors
,
the
Commoners
being
with
him
.
He
approaches
.
You
shall
hear
him
.
Hail
,
lords
!
I
am
returned
your
soldier
,
No
more
infected
with
my
country’s
love
ACT 5. SC. 6
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
home
Doth
more
than
counterpoise
a
full
third
part
The
charges
of
the
action
.
We
have
made
peace
With
no
less
honor
to
the
Antiates
Than
shame
to
th’
Romans
,
and
we
here
deliver
,
Subscribed
by’
th’
Consuls
and
patricians
,
Together
with
the
seal
o’
th’
Senate
,
what
We
have
compounded
on
.
He
offers
the
lords
a
paper
.
Read
it
not
,
noble
lords
,
But
tell
the
traitor
in
the
highest
degree
He
hath
abused
your
powers
.
Traitor
?
How
now
?
Ay
,
traitor
,
Martius
.
Martius
?
Ay
,
Martius
,
Caius
Martius
.
Dost
thou
think
I’ll
grace
thee
with
that
robbery
,
thy
stol’n
name
Coriolanus
,
in
Corioles
?
You
lords
and
heads
o’
th’
state
,
perfidiously
He
has
betrayed
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’
th’
war
,
but
at
his
nurse’s
tears
He
whined
and
roared
away
your
victory
,
That
pages
blushed
at
him
and
men
of
heart
Looked
wond’ring
each
at
other
.
Hear’st
thou
,
Mars
?
ACT 5. SC. 6
Name
not
the
god
,
thou
boy
of
tears
.
Ha
?
No
more
.
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
forced
to
scold
.
Your
judgments
,
my
grave
lords
,
Must
give
this
cur
the
lie
;
and
his
own
notion
—
Who
wears
my
stripes
impressed
upon
him
,
that
Must
bear
my
beating
to
his
grave
—
shall
join
To
thrust
the
lie
unto
him
.
Peace
,
both
,
and
hear
me
speak
.
Cut
me
to
pieces
,
Volsces
.
Men
and
lads
,
Stain
all
your
edges
on
me
.
Boy
?
False
hound
!
If
you
have
writ
your
annals
true
,
’tis
there
That
like
an
eagle
in
a
dovecote
,
I
Fluttered
your
Volscians
in
Corioles
,
Alone
I
did
it
.
Boy
!
Why
,
noble
lords
,
Will
you
be
put
in
mind
of
his
blind
fortune
,
Which
was
your
shame
,
by
this
unholy
braggart
,
’Fore
your
own
eyes
and
ears
?
Let
him
die
for
’t
.
Tear
him
to
pieces
!
Do
it
presently
!
He
killed
my
son
!
My
daughter
!
He
killed
my
cousin
Marcus
!
He
killed
my
father
!
Peace
,
ho
!
No
outrage
!
Peace
!
The
man
is
noble
,
and
his
fame
folds
in
This
orb
o’
th’
Earth
earth
.
His
last
offenses
to
us
Shall
have
judicious
hearing
.
Stand
,
Aufidius
,
And
trouble
not
the
peace
.
ACT 5. SC. 6
,
drawing
his
sword
O
,
that
I
had
him
,
With
six
Aufidiuses
,
or
more
,
his
tribe
,
To
use
my
lawful
sword
.
Insolent
villain
!
Kill
,
kill
,
kill
,
kill
,
kill
him
!
Draw
the
Conspirators
,
and
kills
Martius
,
who
falls
.
Aufidius
stands
on
him
.
Hold
,
hold
,
hold
,
hold
!
My
noble
masters
,
hear
me
speak
.
O
Tullus
!
Thou
hast
done
a
deed
whereat
valor
will
weep
.
Tread
not
upon
him
.
—
Masters
,
all
be
quiet
.
—
Put
up
your
swords
.
My
lords
,
when
you
shall
know
—
as
in
this
rage
,
Provoked
by
him
,
you
cannot
—
the
great
danger
Which
this
man’s
life
did
owe
you
,
you’ll
rejoice
That
he
is
thus
cut
off
.
Please
it
your
Honors
To
call
me
to
your
senate
,
I’ll
deliver
Myself
your
loyal
servant
or
endure
Your
heaviest
censure
.
Bear
from
hence
his
body
,
And
mourn
you
for
him
.
Let
him
be
regarded
As
the
most
noble
corse
that
ever
herald
Did
follow
to
his
urn
.
His
own
impatience
Takes
from
Aufidius
a
great
part
of
blame
.
Let’s
make
the
best
of
it
.
My
rage
is
gone
,
And
I
am
struck
with
sorrow
.
—
Take
him
up
.
Help
,
three
o’
th’
chiefest
soldiers
;
I’ll
be
one
.
—
Beat
thou
the
drum
that
it
speak
mournfully
.
—
ACT 5. SC. 6
Trail
your
steel
pikes
.
Though
in
this
city
he
Hath
widowed
and
unchilded
many
a
one
,
Which
to
this
hour
bewail
the
injury
,
Yet
he
shall
have
a
noble
memory
.
Assist
.
They
exit
bearing
the
body
of
Martius
.
A
dead
march
sounded
.
all or part of a full metrical line
all or part of a prose speech
a short line which cannot be joined with other lines to form a full metrical line, or which may not be definitively identified asverse or prose
editorial emendation