The Tragedy of Coriolanus, William Shakespeare [read dune txt] 📗

/> AUFIDIUS. We hate alike: Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot.

MARCIUS. Let the first budger die the other's slave, And the gods doom him after!

AUFIDIUS. If I fly, Marcius, Halloo me like a hare.

MARCIUS. Within these three hours, Tullus, Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, And made what work I pleas'd: 'tis not my blood Wherein thou seest me mask'd: for thy revenge Wrench up thy power to the highest.

AUFIDIUS. Wert thou the Hector That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny, Thou shouldst not scape me here. -

[They fight, and certain Volsces come to the aid of AUFIDIUS.]

Officious, and not valiant, - you have sham'd me In your condemned seconds.

[Exeunt fighting, driven in by MAR.]


SCENE IX. The Roman camp.

[Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter, at one side, COMINIUS and Romans; at the other side, MARCIUS, with his arm in a scarf, and other Romans.]

COMINIUS. 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' the end admire; where ladies shall be frighted And, gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dull tribunes, That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours, 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.]

LARTIUS. O general, Here is the steed, we the caparison: Hadst thou beheld, -

MARCIUS. 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.

COMINIUS. 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 vouch'd, 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.

MARCIUS. I have some wounds upon me, and they smart To hear themselves remember'd.

COMINIUS. 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 achiev'd and city, We render you the tenth; to be ta'en forth Before the common distribution at Your only choice.

MARCIUS. 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 'Marcius, Marcius!', 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' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be Made all of false-fac'd soothing. When steel grows soft as the parasite's silk, Let him be made a coverture for the wars. No more, I say! for that I have not wash'd My nose that bled, or foil'd some debile wretch, - Which, without note, here's many else have done, - You shout me forth in acclamations hyperbolical; As if I loved my little should be dieted In praises sauc'd with lies.

COMINIUS. Too modest are you; More cruel to your good report than grateful To us that give you truly; by your patience, If 'gainst yourself you be incens'd, we'll put you, - Like one that means his proper harm, - in manacles, Then reason safely with you. - Therefore be it known, As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius 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 Corioli, call him, With all the applause - and clamour of the host, 'Caius Marcius Coriolanus.' - Bear the addition nobly ever!

[Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums]

ALL. Caius Marcius Coriolanus!

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 the fairness of my power.

COMINIUS. So, to our tent; Where, ere we do repose us, we will write To Rome of our success. - You, Titus Lartius, Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome The best, with whom we may articulate For their own good and ours.

LARTIUS. I shall, my lord.

CORIOLANUS. The gods begin to mock me. I, that now Refus'd most princely gifts, am bound to beg Of my lord general.

COMINIUS. Take't: 'tis yours. - What is't?

CORIOLANUS. I sometime lay here in Corioli 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.

COMINIUS. O, well begg'd! Were he the butcher of my son, he should Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus.

LARTIUS. Marcius, his name?

CORIOLANUS. By Jupiter, forgot: - I am weary; yea, my memory is tir'd. - Have we no wine here?

COMINIUS. Go we to our tent: The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time It should be look'd to: come.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE X. The camp of the Volsces.

[A flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, bloody, with two or three soldiers.]

AUFIDIUS. The town is ta'en.

FIRST SOLDIER. 'Twill be delivered back on good condition.

AUFIDIUS. 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 I' the part that is at mercy? - Five times, Marcius, 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 the elements, If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, He's mine or I am his: mine emulation Hath not that honour 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.

FIRST SOLDIER. He's the devil.

AUFIDIUS. Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour's poisoned With only suffering 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 Marcius: 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 the city; Learn how 'tis held; and what they are that must Be hostages for Rome.

FIRST SOLDIER. Will not you go?

AUFIDIUS. 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.

FIRST SOLDIER. I shall, sir.

[Exeunt.]


ACT II.

SCENE I. Rome. A public place

[Enter MENENIUS, SICINIUS, and BRUTUS.]

MENENIUS. The augurer tells me we shall have news tonight.

BRUTUS. Good or bad?

MENENIUS. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius.

SICINIUS. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.

MENENIUS. Pray you, who does the wolf love?

SICINIUS. The lamb.

MENENIUS. Ay, to devour him, as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius.

BRUTUS. He's a lamb indeed, that baas like a bear.

MENENIUS. He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two are old men: tell me one thing that I shall ask you.

BOTH TRIBUNES. Well, sir.

MENENIUS. In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two have not in abundance?

BRUTUS. He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all.

SICINIUS. Especially in pride.

BRUTUS. And topping all others in boasting.

MENENIUS. This is strange now: do you two know how you are censured here in the city, I mean of us o' the right-hand file? Do you?

BOTH TRIBUNES. Why, how are we censured?

MENENIUS. Because you talk of pride now, - will you not be angry?

BOTH TRIBUNES. Well, well, sir, well.

MENENIUS. 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 Marcius for being proud?

BRUTUS. We do it not alone, sir.

MENENIUS. 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 infant-like 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!

BOTH TRIBUNES. What then, sir?

MENENIUS. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates, - alias fools, - as any in Rome.

SICINIUS. Menenius, you are known well enough too.

MENENIUS. 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 favouring the first complaint, hasty and tinder-like upon too trivial motion; one that converses more with the buttock of the night than with the forehead of the morning. What I think I utter, and spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two such 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 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?

BRUTUS. Come, sir, come, we know you well enough.

MENENIUS. 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 fosset-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