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

those that eye thee!

VOLUMNIA. Your knee, sirrah.

CORIOLANUS. That’s my brave boy.

VOLUMNIA. Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself, Are suitors to you.

CORIOLANUS. 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.

VOLUMNIA. O, no more, no more!

You have said you will not grant us any thing-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.

CORIOLANUS. Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark; for we’ll Hear nought from Rome in private. Your request?

VOLUMNIA. 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 bar’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 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 can not 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.

VIRGILIA. Ay, and mine,

That brought you forth this boy to keep your name Living to time.

BOY. ‘A shall not tread on me!

I’ll run away till I am bigger, but then I’ll fight.

CORIOLANUS. Not of a woman’s tenderness to be Requires nor child nor woman’s face to see.

I have sat too long. [Rising]

VOLUMNIA. 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 honour. No, our suit Is that you reconcile them: while the Volsces May say ‘This mercy we have show’d,’ the Romans ‘This we receiv’d,’ 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 dogg’d with curses; Whose chronicle thus writ: ‘The man was noble, But with his last attempt he wip’d it out, Destroy’d his country, and his name remains To th’ ensuing age abhorr’d.’ Speak to me, son.

Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour, To imitate the graces of the gods,

To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o’ th’ air, And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak?

Think’st thou it honourable 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 Show’d thy dear mother any courtesy,

When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood, Has cluck’d thee to the wars, and safely home Loaden with honour. Say my request’s unjust, And spurn me back; but if it he 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; This is the last. So we will home to Rome, And die among our neighbours. 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.

This fellow had a Volscian to his mother; His wife is in Corioli, and his child Like him by chance. Yet give us our dispatch.

I am hush’d until our city be afire,

And then I’ll speak a little.

[He holds her by the hand, silent]

CORIOLANUS. 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 prevail’d, 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?

AUFIDIUS. I was mov’d withal.

CORIOLANUS. 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’fl 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!

AUFIDIUS. [Aside] I am glad thou hast set thy mercy and thy honour

At difference in thee. Out of that I’ll work Myself a former fortune.

CORIOLANUS. [To the ladies] 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 counter-seal’d.

Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve To have a temple built you. All the swords In Italy, and her confederate arms,

Could not have made this peace. Exeunt

SCENE IV.

Rome. A public place

 

Enter MENENIUS and SICINIUS

 

MENENIUS. See you yond coign o’ th’ Capitol, yond cornerstone?

SICINIUS. Why, what of that?

MENENIUS. 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 sentenc’d, and stay upon execution.

SICINIUS. Is’t possible that so short a time can alter the condition of a man?

MENENIUS. There is differency between a grub and a butterfly; yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown from man to dragon; he has wings, he’s more than a creeping thing.

SICINIUS. He lov’d his mother dearly.

MENENIUS. 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 finish’d with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but eternity, and a heaven to throne in.

SICINIUS. Yes-mercy, if you report him truly.

MENENIUS. I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his mother shall bring from him. There is 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.

SICINIUS. The gods be good unto us!

MENENIUS. No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us.

When we banish’d him we respected not them; and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us.

 

Enter a MESSENGER

 

MESSENGER. 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

 

SICINIUS. What’s the news?

SECOND MESSENGER. Good news, good news! The ladies have prevail’d, The Volscians are dislodg’d, and Marcius gone.

A merrier day did never yet greet Rome, No, not th’ expulsion of the Tarquins.

SICINIUS. Friend,

Art thou certain this is true? Is’t most certain?

SECOND MESSENGER. As certain as I know the sun is fire.

Where have you lurk’d, 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]

MENENIUS. 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 pray’d well to-day: This morning for ten thousand of your throats I’d not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy!

[Sound still with the shouts]

SICINIUS. First, the gods bless you for your tidings; next, Accept my thankfulness.

SECOND MESSENGER. Sir, we have all

Great cause to give great thanks.

SICINIUS. They are near the city?

MESSENGER. Almost at point to enter.

SICINIUS. We’ll meet them,

And help the joy. Exeunt

SCENE V.

Rome. A street near the gate

 

Enter two SENATORS With VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, VALERIA, passing over the stage, ‘With other LORDS

 

FIRST SENATOR. 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 banish’d Marcius, Repeal him with the welcome of his mother; ALL. Welcome, ladies, welcome!

[A flourish with drums and trumpets. Exeunt]

 

SCENE VI.

Corioli. A public place

 

Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS with attendents

 

AUFIDIUS. Go tell the lords o’ th’ city I am here; Deliver them this 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 enter’d and Intends t’ appear before the people, hoping To purge himself with words. Dispatch.

Exeunt attendants Enter three or four CONSPIRATORS of AUFIDIUS’ faction Most welcome!

FIRST CONSPIRATOR. How is it with our general?

AUFIDIUS. Even so

As with a man by his own alms empoison’d, And with his charity slain.

SECOND CONSPIRATOR. Most noble sir,

If you do hold the same intent wherein You wish’d us parties, we’ll deliver you Of your great danger.

AUFIDIUS. Sir, I cannot tell;

We must proceed as we do find the people.

THIRD CONSPIRATOR. The people will remain uncertain whilst ‘Twixt you there’s difference; but the fall of either Makes the survivor heir of all.

AUFIDIUS. I know it;

And my pretext to strike at him admits A good construction. I rais’d him, and I pawn’d Mine honour