The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, William Shakespeare [book recommendations based on other books txt] 📗

men die.

 

A sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter COMINIUS the GENERAL, and TITUS LARTIUS; between them, CORIOLANUS, crown’d with an oaken garland; with CAPTAINS and soldiers and a HERALD

 

HERALD. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight Within Corioli gates, where he hath won, With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these In honour follows Coriolanus.

Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! [Flourish]

ALL. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!

CORIOLANUS. No more of this, it does offend my heart.

Pray now, no more.

COMINIUS. Look, sir, your mother!

CORIOLANUS. O,

You have, I know, petition’d all the gods For my prosperity! [Kneels]

VOLUMNIA. Nay, my good soldier, up;

My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and

By deed-achieving honour newly nam’d—

What is it? Coriolanus must I can thee?

But, O, thy wife!

CORIOLANUS. My gracious silence, hail!

Wouldst thou have laugh’d had I come coffin’d home, That weep’st to see me triumph? Ah, my dear, Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear, And mothers that lack sons.

MENENIUS. Now the gods crown thee!

CORIOLANUS. And live you yet? [To VALERIA] O my sweet lady, pardon.

VOLUMNIA. I know not where to turn.

O, welcome home! And welcome, General.

And y’are welcome all.

MENENIUS. 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.

COMINIUS. Ever right.

CORIOLANUS. Menenius ever, ever.

HERALD. Give way there, and go on.

CORIOLANUS. [To his wife and mother] Your hand, and yours.

Ere in our own house I do shade my head, The good patricians must be visited;

From whom I have receiv’d not only greetings, But with them change of honours.

VOLUMNIA. 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.

CORIOLANUS. Know, good mother,

I had rather be their servant in my way Than sway with them in theirs.

COMINIUS. On, to the Capitol.

[Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before]

 

BRUTUS and SICINIUS come forward BRUTUS. All tongues speak of him and the bleared 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 smother’d up, leads fill’d and ridges hors’d 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 veil’d dames Commit the war of white and damask in Their nicely gawded cheeks to th’ wanton spoil Of Phoebus’ burning kisses. Such a pother, As if that whatsoever god who leads him Were slily crept into his human powers, And gave him graceful posture.

SICINIUS. On the sudden

I warrant him consul.

BRUTUS. Then our office may

During his power go sleep.

SICINIUS. He cannot temp’rately transport his honours From where he should begin and end, but will Lose those he hath won.

BRUTUS. In that there’s comfort.

SICINIUS. Doubt not

The commoners, for whom we stand, but they Upon their ancient malice will forget With the least cause these his new honours; which That he will give them make I as little question As he is proud to do’t.

BRUTUS. 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.

SICINIUS. ‘Tis right.

BRUTUS. 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.

SICINIUS. I wish no better

Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it In execution.

BRUTUS. ‘Tis most like he will.

SICINIUS. It shall be to him then as our good wills: A sure destruction.

BRUTUS. So it must fall out

To him or our authorities. 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, silenc’d 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.

SICINIUS. 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 for ever.

 

Enter A MESSENGER

 

BRUTUS. What’s the matter?

MESSENGER. You are sent for to the Capitol. ‘Tis thought That Marcius 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 scarfs and handkerchers, Upon him as he pass’d; 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.

BRUTUS. Let’s to the Capitol,

And carry with us ears and eyes for th’ time, But hearts for the event.

SICINIUS. Have with you. Exeunt

SCENE II.

Rome. The Capitol

 

Enter two OFFICERS, to lay cushions, as it were in the Capitol FIRST OFFICER. Come, come, they are almost here. How many stand for consulships?

SECOND OFFICER. Three, they say; but ‘tis thought of every one Coriolanus will carry it.

FIRST OFFICER. That’s a brave fellow; but he’s vengeance proud and loves not the common people.

SECOND OFFICER. Faith, there have been many great men that have flatter’d 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.

FIRST OFFICER. 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.

SECOND OFFICER. 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 honours 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 car that heard it.

FIRST OFFICER. 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. SICINIUS and BRUTUS take their places by themselves.

CORIOLANUS stands MENENIUS. Having determin’d 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 perform’d By Caius Marcius Coriolanus; whom

We met here both to thank and to remember With honours like himself. [CORIOLANUS sits]

FIRST SENATOR. 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. Masters o’ th’ people, We do request your kindest ears; and, after, Your loving motion toward the common body, To yield what passes here.

SICINIUS. We are convented

Upon a pleasing treaty, and have hearts Inclinable to honour and advance

The theme of our assembly.

BRUTUS. Which the rather

We shall be bless’d to do, if he remember A kinder value of the people than

He hath hereto priz’d them at.

MENENIUS. That’s off, that’s off;

I would you rather had been silent. Please you To hear Cominius speak?

BRUTUS. Most willingly.

But yet my caution was more pertinent Than the rebuke you give it.

MENENIUS. 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.

FIRST SENATOR. Sit, Coriolanus, never shame to hear What you have nobly done.

CORIOLANUS. Your Honours’ pardon.

I had rather have my wounds to heal again Than hear say how I got them.

BRUTUS. Sir, I hope

My words disbench’d you not.

CORIOLANUS. No, sir; yet oft,

When blows have made me stay, I fled from words.

You sooth’d not, therefore hurt not. But your people, I love them as they weigh-MENENIUS. Pray now, sit down.

CORIOLANUS. I had rather have one scratch my head i’ th’ sun When the alarum were struck than idly sit To hear my nothings monster’d. Exit MENENIUS. 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 honour Than one on’s ears to hear it? Proceed, Cominius.

COMINIUS. I shall lack voice; the deeds of Coriolanus Should not be utter’d feebly. It is held That valour is the chiefest virtue and Most dignifies the haver. If it be,

The man I speak of cannot in the world Be singly counterpois’d. 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’erpress’d 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 prov’d best man i’ th’ field, and for his meed Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age Man-ent’red thus, he waxed like a sea, And in the brunt of seventeen battles since He lurch’d all swords of the garland. For this last, Before and in Corioli, let me say

I cannot speak him home. He stopp’d the fliers, And by his rare example made the coward Turn terror into sport; as weeds before A vessel under sail, so men obey’d

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 tim’d with dying cries. Alone he ent’red The mortal gate of th’ city, which he painted With shunless destiny; aidless came off, And with a sudden re-enforcement struck Corioli 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 Re-quick’ned what in flesh was fatigate, And to