The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

MENENIUS. 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.

SICINIUS. 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.

MENENIUS. No; I’ll not meddle.

SICINIUS. Pray you go to him.

MENENIUS. What should I do?

BRUTUS. Only make trial what your love can do For Rome, towards Marcius.

MENENIUS. Well, and say that Marcius

Return me, as Cominius is return’d,

Unheard-what then?

But as a discontented friend, grief-shot With his unkindness? Say’t be so?

SICINIUS. Yet your good will

Must have that thanks from Rome after the measure As you intended well.

MENENIUS. 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 din’d; The veins unfill’d, our blood is cold, and then We pout upon the morning, are unapt

To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff’d These pipes and these conveyances of our blood With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls Than in our priest-like fasts. Therefore I’ll watch him Till he be dieted to my request,

And then I’ll set upon him.

BRUTUS. You know the very road into his kindness And cannot lose your way.

MENENIUS. Good faith, I’ll prove him,

Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge Of my success. Exit COMINIUS. He’ll never hear him.

SICINIUS. Not?

COMINIUS. I tell you he does sit in gold, his eye Red as ‘twould burn Rome, and his injury The gaoler to his pity. I kneel’d before him; ‘Twas very faintly he said ‘Rise’; dismiss’d 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

For mercy to his country. Therefore let’s hence, And with our fair entreaties haste them on. Exeunt

SCENE II.

The Volscian camp before Rome

Enter MENENIUS to the WATCH on guard

FIRST WATCH. Stay. Whence are you?

SECOND WATCH. Stand, and go back.

MENENIUS. You guard like men, ‘tis well; but, by your leave, I am an officer of state and come

To speak with Coriolanus.

FIRST WATCH. From whence?

MENENIUS. From Rome.

FIRST WATCH. YOU may not pass; you must return. Our general Will no more hear from thence.

SECOND WATCH. You’ll see your Rome embrac’d with fire before You’ll speak with Coriolanus.

MENENIUS. 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 touch’d your ears: it is Menenius.

FIRST WATCH. Be it so; go back. The virtue of your name Is not here passable.

MENENIUS. I tell thee, fellow,

Thy general is my lover. I have been

The book of his good acts whence men have read His fame unparallel’d haply 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, Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground,

I have tumbled past the throw, and in his praise Have almost stamp’d the leasing; therefore, fellow, I must have leave to pass.

FIRST WATCH. 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.

MENENIUS. Prithee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius, always factionary on the party of your general.

SECOND WATCH. 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.

MENENIUS. Has he din’d, canst thou tell? For I would not speak with him till after dinner.

FIRST WATCH. You are a Roman, are you?

MENENIUS. I am as thy general is.

FIRST WATCH. Then you should hate Rome, as he does. Can you, when you have push’d 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 decay’d 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 deceiv’d; therefore back to Rome and prepare for your execution. You are condemn’d; our general has sworn you out of reprieve and pardon.

MENENIUS. Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here, he would use me with estimation.

FIRST WATCH. Come, my captain knows you not.

MENENIUS. I mean thy general.

FIRST WATCH. 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.

MENENIUS. Nay, but fellow, fellow-

Enter CORIOLANUS with AUFIDIUS

CORIOLANUS. What’s the matter?

MENENIUS. 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 crueller in suffering; behold now presently, and swoon for what’s to come upon thee. 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! 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.

CORIOLANUS. Away!

MENENIUS. How! away!

CORIOLANUS. 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 Than pity note how much. Therefore be gone.

Mine ears against your suits are stronger than Your gates against my force. Yet, for I lov’d thee, Take this along; I writ it for thy sake [Gives a letter]

And would have sent it. Another word, Menenius, I will not hear thee speak. This man, Aufidius, Was my belov’d in Rome; yet thou behold’st.

AUFIDIUS. You keep a constant temper.

Exeunt CORIOLANUS and Aufidius FIRST WATCH. Now, sir, is your name Menenius?

SECOND WATCH. ‘Tis a spell, you see, of much power! You know the way home again.

FIRST WATCH. Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your greatness back?

SECOND WATCH. What cause, do you think, I have to swoon?

MENENIUS. I neither care for th’ world nor your general; for such things as you, I can scarce think there’s any, y’are 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! Exit FIRST WATCH. A noble fellow, I warrant him.

SECOND WATCH. The worthy fellow is our general; he’s the rock, the oak not to be wind-shaken. Exeunt

SCENE III.

The tent of CORIOLANUS

Enter CORIOLANUS, AUFIDIUS, and others

CORIOLANUS. We will before the walls of Rome tomorrow Set down our host. My partner in this action, You must report to th’ Volscian lords how plainly I have borne this business.

AUFIDIUS. Only their ends

You have respected; stopp’d your ears against The general suit of Rome; never admitted A private whisper-no, not with such friends That thought them sure of you.

CORIOLANUS. This last old man,

Whom with crack’d heart I have sent to Rome, Lov’d 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 show’d sourly to him-once more offer’d 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, in mourning habits, VIRGILIA, VOLUMNIA, VALERIA, YOUNG MARCIUS, with attendants My wife comes foremost, then the honour’d mould Wherein this trunk was fram’d, 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.

What is that curtsy worth? or those doves’ eyes, Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not Of stronger earth than others. My mother bows, As if Olympus to a molehill should

In supplication nod; and my young boy Hath an aspect of intercession which

Great nature cries ‘Deny not.’ Let the Volsces Plough 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.

VIRGILIA. My lord and husband!

CORIOLANUS. These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome.

VIRGILIA. The sorrow that delivers us thus chang’d Makes you think so.

CORIOLANUS. 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.’ 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 virgin’d 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.

VOLUMNIA. O, stand up blest!

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. [Kneels]

CORIOLANUS. What’s this?

Your knees to me, to your corrected son?

Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds Strike the proud cedars ‘gainst the fiery sun, Murd’ring impossibility, to make

What cannot be slight work.

VOLUMNIA. Thou art my warrior;

I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady?

CORIOLANUS. 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!

VOLUMNIA. This is a poor epitome of yours, Which by th’ interpretation of full time May show like all yourself.

CORIOLANUS. 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 sea-mark, standing every flaw, And saving