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First Citizen:
Before we proceed any further, hear me speak.
All:
Speak, speak.
First Citizen:
You are all resolved rather to die than to famish?
All:
Resolved. resolved.
First Citizen:
First, you know Caius Marcius is chief enemy to the people.
All:
We know't, we know't.
First Citizen:
Let us kill him, and we'll have corn at our own price.
Is't a verdict?
All:
No more talking on't; let it be done: away, away!
Second Citizen:
One word, good citizens.
First Citizen:
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 particularise their abundance; our
sufferance is a gain to them Let us revenge this with
our pikes, ere we become rakes: for the gods know I
speak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge.
Second Citizen:
Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcius?
All:
Against him first: he's a very dog to the commonalty.
Second Citizen:
Consider you what services he has done for his country?
First Citizen:
Very well; and could be content to give him good
report fort, but that he pays himself with being proud.
Second Citizen:
Nay, but speak not maliciously.
First Citizen:
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 till the altitude of his virtue.
Second Citizen:
What he cannot help in his nature, you account a
vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous.
First Citizen:
If I must not, I need not be barren of accusations;
he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition.
What shouts are these? The other side o' the city
is risen: why stay we prating here? to the Capitol!
All:
Come, come.
First Citizen:
Soft! who comes here?
Second Citizen:
Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath always loved
the people.
First Citizen:
He's one honest enough: would all the rest were so!
MENENIUS:
What work's, my countrymen, in hand? where go you
With bats and clubs? The matter? speak, I pray you.
First Citizen:
Our business is not unknown to the 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.
MENENIUS:
Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbours,
Will you undo yourselves?
First Citizen:
We cannot, sir, we are undone already.
MENENIUS:
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' the state, who care for you like fathers,
When you curse them as enemies.
First Citizen:
Care for us! True, indeed! They ne'er cared for us
yet: suffer us to famish, and their store-houses
Alack,
You are transported by calamity
Thither where more attends you, and you slander
The helms o' the state, who care for you like fathers,
When you curse them as enemies.
First Citizen:
Care for us! True, indeed! They ne'er cared for us
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
the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and
there's all the love they bear us.
MENENIUS:
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.
First Citizen:
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.
MENENIUS:
There was a time when all the body's members
Rebell'd against the belly, thus accused it:
That only like a gulf it did remain
I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive,
Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing
Like labour with the rest, where the 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 answer'd--
First Citizen:
Well, sir, what answer made the belly?
MENENIUS:
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 the 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.
First Citizen:
Your belly's answer? What!
The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye,
The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier,
Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter.
With other muniments and petty helps
In this our fabric, if that they--
MENENIUS:
What then?
'Fore me, this fellow speaks! What then? what then?
First Citizen:
Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd,
Who is the sink o' the body,--
MENENIUS:
Well, what then?
First Citizen:
The former agents, if they did complain,
What could the belly answer?
MENENIUS:
I will tell you
If you'll bestow a small--of what you have little--
Patience awhile, you'll hear the belly's answer.
First Citizen:
Ye're long about it.
MENENIUS:
Note me this, good friend;
Your most grave belly was deliberate,
Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd:
'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 store-house 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 the seat o' the 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, |
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 the 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.
First Citizen:
Your belly's answer? What!
The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye,
The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier,
Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter.
With other muniments and petty helps
In this our fabric, if that they--
MENENIUS:
What then?
'Fore me, this fellow speaks! What then? what then?
First Citizen:
Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd,
Who is the sink o' the body,--
MENENIUS:
Well, what then?
First Citizen:
The former agents, if they did complain,
What could the belly answer?
MENENIUS:
I will tell you
If you'll bestow a small--of what you have little--
Patience awhile, you'll hear the belly's answer.
First Citizen:
Ye're long about it.
MENENIUS:
Note me this, good friend;
Your most grave belly was deliberate,
Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd:
'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 store-house 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 the seat o' the brain;
And, through the cranks and offices of man,
The strongest nerves and small inferior veins
From me receive that natural competency
You, my good friends,'--this says the belly, mark me,--
First Citizen:
Ay, sir; well, well.
MENENIUS:
'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?
First Citizen:
It was an answer: how apply you this?
MENENIUS:
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' the 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?
First Citizen:
I the great toe! why the great toe?
MENENIUS:
For that, being one o' the lowest, basest, poorest,
Of this most wise rebellion, thou go'st 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.
Hail, noble Marcius!
MARCIUS:
Thanks. What's the matter, you dissentious rogues,
That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,
Make yourselves scabs?
First Citizen:
We have ever your good word.
MARCIUS:
He that will give good words to thee will flatter
Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs,
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 offence subdues him
Your virtue is
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 favours swims with fins of lead
And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust Ye?
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?
MENENIUS:
For corn at their own rates; whereof, they say,
The city is well stored.
MARCIUS:
Hang 'em! They say!
They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know
What's done i' the 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'll make a quarry
With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high
As I could pick my lance.
MENENIUS:
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?
MARCIUS:
They are dissolved: hang 'em!
They said they were an-hungry; sigh'd 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 answer'd,
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' the moon,
Shouting their emulation.
MENENIUS:
What is granted them?
MARCIUS:
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 unroof'd the city,
Ere so prevail'd with me: it will in time
Win upon power and throw forth greater themes
For insurrection's arguing.
MENENIUS:
This is strange.
MARCIUS:
Go, get you home, you fragments!
Messenger:
Where's Caius Marcius?
MARCIUS:
Here: what's the matter?
Messenger:
The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms.
MARCIUS:
I am glad on 't: then we shall ha' means to vent
Our musty superfluity. See, our best elders.
First Senator:
Marcius, 'tis true that you have lately told us;
The Volsces are in arms.
MARCIUS:
They have a leader,
Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to 't.
I sin in envying his nobility,
And were I any thing but what I am,
I would wish me only he.
COMINIUS:
You have fought together.
MARCIUS:
Were half to half the world by the ears and he.
Upon my party, I'ld revolt to make
Only my wars with him: he is a lion
That I am proud to hunt.
First Senator:
Then, worthy Marcius,
Attend upon Cominius to these wars.
COMINIUS:
It is your former promise.
MARCIUS:
Sir, it is;
And I am constant. |
Titus Lartius, thou
Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face.
Titus Lartius, thou
What, art thou stiff? stand'st out?
TITUS:
No, Caius Marcius;
I'll lean upon one crutch and fight with t'other,
Ere stay behind this business.
MENENIUS:
O, true-bred!
First Senator:
Your company to the Capitol; where, I know,
Our greatest friends attend us.
TITUS:
COMINIUS:
Noble Marcius!
First Senator:
MARCIUS:
Nay, let them follow:
The Volsces have much corn; take these rats thither
To gnaw their garners. Worshipful mutiners,
Your valour puts well forth: pray, follow.
SICINIUS:
Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius?
BRUTUS:
He has no equal.
SICINIUS:
When we were chosen tribunes for the people,--
BRUTUS:
Mark'd you his lip and eyes?
SICINIUS:
Nay. but his taunts.
BRUTUS:
Being moved, he will not spare to gird the gods.
SICINIUS:
Be-mock the modest moon.
BRUTUS:
The present wars devour him: he is grown
Too proud to be so valiant.
SICINIUS:
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.
BRUTUS:
Fame, at the which he aims,
In whom already he's well graced, can not
Better be held nor more attain'd than by
A place below the first: for what miscarries
Shall be the general's fault, though he perform
To the utmost of a man, and giddy censure
Will then cry out of Marcius 'O if he
Had borne the business!'
SICINIUS:
Besides, if things go well,
Opinion that so sticks on Marcius shall
Of his demerits rob Cominius.
BRUTUS:
Come:
Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius.
Though Marcius earned them not, and all his faults
To Marcius shall be honours, though indeed
In aught he merit not.
SICINIUS:
Let's hence, and hear
How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion,
More than his singularity, he goes
Upon this present action.
BRUTUS:
Lets along.
First Senator:
So, your opinion is, Aufidius,
That they of Rome are entered in our counsels
And know how we proceed.
AUFIDIUS:
Is it not yours?
What ever 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.
'They have press'd a power, but it is not known
Whether for east or west: the dearth is great;
The people mutinous; and it is rumour'd,
Cominius, Marcius 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.'
First Senator:
Our army's in the field
We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready
To answer us.
AUFIDIUS:
Nor did you think it folly
To keep your great pretences veil'd till when
They needs must show themselves; which
in the hatching,
It seem'd, appear'd to Rome. |
By the discovery.
We shall be shorten'd in our aim, which was
To take in many towns ere almost Rome
Should know we were afoot.
Second Senator:
Noble Aufidius,
Take your commission; hie you to your bands:
By the discovery.
We shall be shorten'd in our aim, which was
To take in many towns ere almost Rome
Should know we were afoot.
Second Senator:
Noble Aufidius,
Let us alone to guard Corioli:
If they set down before 's, for the remove
Bring your army; but, I think, you'll find
They've not prepared for us.
AUFIDIUS:
O, doubt not that;
I speak from certainties. Nay, more,
Some parcels of their power are forth already,
And only hitherward. I leave your honours.
If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet,
'Tis sworn between us we shall ever strike
Till one can do no more.
All:
The gods assist you!
AUFIDIUS:
And keep your honours safe!
First Senator:
Farewell.
Second Senator:
Farewell.
All:
Farewell.
VOLUMNIA:
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 honour 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 honour would become such a person. that it was
no better than picture-like to hang by the 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.
VIRGILIA:
But had he died in the business, madam; how then?
VOLUMNIA:
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
Marcius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their
country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.
Gentlewoman:
Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you.
VIRGILIA:
Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.
VOLUMNIA:
Indeed, you shall not.
Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum,
See him pluck Aufidius down by the 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 mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes,
Like to a harvest-man that's task'd to mow
Or all or lose his hire.
VIRGILIA:
His bloody brow! O Jupiter, no blood!
VOLUMNIA:
Away, you fool! it more becomes a man
Than gilt his trophy: the breasts of Hecuba,
When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier
Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood
At Grecian sword, contemning. |
Tell Valeria,
We are fit to bid her welcome.
VIRGILIA:
Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!
VOLUMNIA:
He'll beat Aufidius 'head below his knee
And tread upon his neck.
VALERIA:
My ladies both, good day to you.
VOLUMNIA:
Sweet madam.
Tell Valeria,
We are fit to bid her welcome.
VIRGILIA:
Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!
VOLUMNIA:
He'll beat Aufidius 'head below his knee
And tread upon his neck.
VALERIA:
My ladies both, good day to you.
VOLUMNIA:
VIRGILIA:
I am glad to see your ladyship.
VALERIA:
How do you both? you are manifest house-keepers.
What are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good
faith. How does your little son?
VIRGILIA:
I thank your ladyship; well, good madam.
VOLUMNIA:
He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, than
look upon his school-master.
VALERIA:
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: has 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 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 it, how he mammocked
it!
VOLUMNIA:
One on 's father's moods.
VALERIA:
Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child.
VIRGILIA:
A crack, madam.
VALERIA:
Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play
the idle husewife with me this afternoon.
VIRGILIA:
No, good madam; I will not out of doors.
VALERIA:
Not out of doors!
VOLUMNIA:
She shall, she shall.
VIRGILIA:
Indeed, no, by your patience; I'll not over the
threshold till my lord return from the wars.
VALERIA:
Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably: come,
you must go visit the good lady that lies in.
VIRGILIA:
I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with
my prayers; but I cannot go thither.
VOLUMNIA:
Why, I pray you?
VIRGILIA:
'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love.
VALERIA:
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.
VIRGILIA:
No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth.
VALERIA:
In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you
excellent news of your husband.
VIRGILIA:
O, good madam, there can be none yet.
VALERIA:
Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from
him last night.
VIRGILIA:
Indeed, madam?
VALERIA:
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 Corioli; they nothing doubt
prevailing and to make it brief wars. |
This is true,
on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us.
This is true,
VIRGILIA:
Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every
thing hereafter.
VOLUMNIA:
Let her alone, lady: as she is now, she will but
disease our better mirth.
VALERIA:
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.
VIRGILIA:
No, at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish
you much mirth.
VALERIA:
Well, then, farewell.
MARCIUS:
Yonder comes news. A wager they have met.
LARTIUS:
My horse to yours, no.
MARCIUS:
'Tis done.
LARTIUS:
Agreed.
MARCIUS:
Say, has our general met the enemy?
Messenger:
They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet.
LARTIUS:
So, the good horse is mine.
MARCIUS:
I'll buy him of you.
LARTIUS:
No, I'll nor sell nor give him: lend you him I will
For half a hundred years. Summon the town.
MARCIUS:
How far off lie these armies?
Messenger:
Within this mile and half.
MARCIUS:
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.
Tutus Aufidius, is he within your walls?
First Senator:
No, nor a man that fears you less than he,
That's lesser than a little.
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 pinn'd with rushes;
They'll open of themselves.
Hark you. far off!
There is Aufidius; list, what work he makes
Amongst your cloven army.
MARCIUS:
O, they are at it!
LARTIUS:
Their noise be our instruction. Ladders, ho!
MARCIUS:
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.
MARCIUS:
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 abhorr'd
Further 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 followed.
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.
First Soldier:
Fool-hardiness; not I.
Second Soldier:
Nor I.
First Soldier:
See, they have shut him in.
All:
To the pot, I warrant him.
LARTIUS:
What is become of Marcius?
All:
Slain, sir, doubtless.
First Soldier:
Come on, my fellows:
He that retires I'll take him for a Volsce,
And he shall feel mine edge.
MARCIUS:
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 abhorr'd
Further 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 followed.
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.
First Soldier:
Fool-hardiness; not I.
Second Soldier:
Nor I.
First Soldier:
See, they have shut him in.
All:
To the pot, I warrant him.
LARTIUS:
What is become of Marcius?
All:
Slain, sir, doubtless.
Following the fliers at the very heels,
With them he enters; who, upon the sudden,
Clapp'd to their gates: he is himself alone,
To answer all the city.
LARTIUS:
O noble fellow!
Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword,
And, when it bows, stands up. Thou art left, Marcius:
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 thunder-like percussion of thy sounds,
Thou madst thine enemies shake, as if the world
Were feverous and did tremble.
First Soldier:
Look, sir.
LARTIUS:
O,'tis Marcius!
Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike.
First Roman:
This will I carry to Rome.
Second Roman:
And I this.
Third Roman:
A murrain on't! I took this for silver.
MARCIUS:
See here these movers that do prize their hours
At a crack'd drachm! Cushions, leaden spoons,
Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would
Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves,
Thou wast a soldier
Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible
Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks and
The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds,
Thou madst thine enemies shake, as if the world
Were feverous and did tremble.
First Soldier:
Look, sir.
LARTIUS:
O,'tis Marcius!
Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike.
First Roman:
This will I carry to Rome.
Second Roman:
And I this.
Third Roman:
A murrain on't! I took this for silver.
MARCIUS:
See here these movers that do prize their hours
At a crack'd drachm! Cushions, leaden spoons,
Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would
Ere yet the fight be done, pack up: down with them!
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.
LARTIUS:
Worthy sir, thou bleed'st;
Thy exercise hath been too violent for
A second course of fight.
MARCIUS:
Sir, praise me not;
My work hath yet not warm'd me: fare you well:
The blood I drop is rather physical
Than dangerous to me: to Aufidius thus
I will appear, and fight.
LARTIUS:
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!
MARCIUS:
Thy friend no less
Than those she placeth highest! So, farewell.
LARTIUS:
Thou worthiest Marcius!
Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place;
Call thither all the officers o' the town,
Where they shall know our mind: away!
COMINIUS:
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. |
Ye Roman gods!
Lead their successes as we wish our own,
That both our powers, with smiling
fronts encountering,
May give you thankful sacrifice.
Thy news?
Messenger:
The citizens of Corioli have issued,
And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle:
I saw our party to their trenches driven,
And then I came away.
COMINIUS:
Though thou speak'st truth,
Methinks thou speak'st not well.
How long is't since?
Messenger:
Above an hour, my lord.
COMINIUS:
'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums:
How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour,
And bring thy news so late?
Messenger:
Spies of the Volsces
Held me in chase, that I was forced to wheel
Ye Roman gods!
Lead their successes as we wish our own,
That both our powers, with smiling
fronts encountering,
May give you thankful sacrifice.
Thy news?
Messenger:
The citizens of Corioli have issued,
And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle:
I saw our party to their trenches driven,
And then I came away.
COMINIUS:
Though thou speak'st truth,
Methinks thou speak'st not well.
How long is't since?
Messenger:
Above an hour, my lord.
COMINIUS:
'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums:
How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour,
And bring thy news so late?
Messenger:
Spies of the Volsces
Three or four miles about, else had I, sir,
Half an hour since brought my report.
COMINIUS:
Who's yonder,
That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods
He has the stamp of Marcius; and I have
Before-time seen him thus.
MARCIUS:
COMINIUS:
The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabour
More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue
From every meaner man.
MARCIUS:
Come I too late?
COMINIUS:
Ay, if you come not in the blood of others,
But mantled in your own.
MARCIUS:
O, let me clip ye
In arms as sound as when I woo'd, in heart
As merry as when our nuptial day was done,
And tapers burn'd to bedward!
COMINIUS:
Flower of warriors,
How is it with Titus Lartius?
MARCIUS:
As with a man busied about decrees:
Condemning some to death, and some to exile;
Ransoming him, or pitying, threatening the other;
Holding Corioli in the name of Rome,
Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash,
To let him slip at will.
COMINIUS:
Where is that slave
Which told me they had beat you to your trenches?
Where is he? call him hither.
MARCIUS:
Let him alone;
He did inform the truth: but for our gentlemen,
The common file--a plague! tribunes for them!--
The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat as they did budge
From rascals worse than they.
COMINIUS:
But how prevail'd you?
MARCIUS:
Will the time serve to tell? I do not think.
Where is the enemy? are you lords o' the field?
If not, why cease you till you are so?
COMINIUS:
Marcius,
We have at disadvantage fought and did
Retire to win our purpose.
MARCIUS:
How lies their battle? know you on which side
They have placed their men of trust?
COMINIUS:
As I guess, Marcius,
Their bands i' the vaward are the Antiates,
Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius,
Their very heart of hope.
MARCIUS:
I do beseech you,
By all the battles wherein we have fought, |
By the blood we have shed together, by the 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.
COMINIUS:
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.
MARCIUS:
Those are they
That most are willing. If any such be here--
As it were sin to doubt--that love this painting
Wherein you see me smear'd; 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 Marcius.
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 obey'd. Please you to march;
And four shall quickly draw out my command,
Which men are best inclined.
COMINIUS:
March on, my fellows:
Make good this ostentation, and you shall
Divide in all with us.
LARTIUS:
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
For a short holding: if we lose the field,
We cannot keep the town.
Lieutenant:
Fear not our care, sir.
LARTIUS:
Hence, and shut your gates upon's.
Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct us.
MARCIUS:
I'll fight with none but thee; for I do hate thee
Worse than a promise-breaker.
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,
Holloa me like a hare.
MARCIUS:
Within these three hours, Tullus,
Alone I fought in your Corioli walls,
And made what work I pleased: '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.
Officious, and not valiant, you have shamed me
In your condemned seconds.
COMINIUS:
If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work,
Thou'ldst 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 quaked, 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 camest thou to a morsel of this feast,
Having fully dined before.
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.
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
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 achieved 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.
MARCIUS:
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-faced 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 sauced 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 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 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!
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
Refused 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,
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;
And wrath o'erwhelm'd 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 tired.
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.
AUFIDIUS:
The town is ta'en!
First Soldier:
'Twill be deliver'd 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 poison'd
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.
MENENIUS:
The augurer tells me we shall have news to-night.
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 baes 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:
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.
You two
are old men: tell me one thing that I shall ask you.
Both:
Well, sir.
MENENIUS:
In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two
have not in abundance?
BRUTUS:
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:
Why, how are we censured?
MENENIUS:
Because you talk of pride now,--will you not be angry?
Both:
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!
BRUTUS:
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 can't 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 you have good faces. If you see this in
the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known
well enough too? what barm 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 any thing. 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 three pence 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.
BRUTUS:
Come, come, you are well understood to be a
You are
a pair of strange ones.
BRUTUS:
perfecter giber for the table than a necessary
bencher in the Capitol.
MENENIUS:
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 honourable a grave as to stuff a botcher's
cushion, or to be entombed in an ass's pack-
saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is proud;
who in a cheap estimation, is worth predecessors
since Deucalion, though peradventure some of the
best of 'em were hereditary hangmen. God-den 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.
How now, my as fair as noble ladies,--and the moon,
were she earthly, no nobler,--whither do you follow
your eyes so fast?
VOLUMNIA:
Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for
the love of Juno, let's go.
MENENIUS:
Ha! Marcius coming home!
VOLUMNIA:
Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosperous
approbation.
MENENIUS:
Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee. Hoo!
Marcius coming home!
VOLUMNIA:
Nay,'tis true.
VOLUMNIA:
Look, here's a letter from him: the state hath
another, his wife another; and, I think, there's one
at home for you.
MENENIUS:
I will make my very house reel tonight: a letter for
me!
VIRGILIA:
Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw't.
MENENIUS:
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.
VIRGILIA:
O, no, no, no.
VOLUMNIA:
O, he is wounded; I thank the gods for't.
MENENIUS:
So do I too, if it be not too much: brings a'
victory in his pocket? the wounds become him.
VOLUMNIA:
On's brows: Menenius, he comes the third time home
with the oaken garland.
MENENIUS:
Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly?
VOLUMNIA:
Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but
Aufidius got off.
MENENIUS:
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 Corioli, and the gold
that's in them. Is the senate possessed of this?
VOLUMNIA:
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
VALERIA:
In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him.
MENENIUS:
Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without his
true purchasing.
VIRGILIA:
The gods grant them true!
VOLUMNIA:
True! pow, wow.
MENENIUS:
True! I'll be sworn they are true.
Where is he wounded?
God save your good worships! Marcius is coming
home: he has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded?
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
VALERIA:
In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him.
MENENIUS:
Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without his
true purchasing.
VIRGILIA:
The gods grant them true!
VOLUMNIA:
True! pow, wow.
MENENIUS:
True! I'll be sworn they are true.
Where is he wounded?
God save your good worships! Marcius is coming
VOLUMNIA:
I' the shoulder and i' the 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' the body.
MENENIUS:
One i' the neck, and two i' the thigh,--there's
nine that I know.
VOLUMNIA:
He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five
wounds upon him.
MENENIUS:
Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave.
Hark! the trumpets.
VOLUMNIA:
These are the ushers of Marcius: 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.
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!
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!
VOLUMNIA:
Nay, my good soldier, up;
My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and
By deed-achieving honour newly named,--
What is it?--Coriolanus must I call 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? Ay, 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?
O my sweet lady, pardon.
VOLUMNIA:
I know not where to turn: O, welcome home:
And welcome, general: and ye're 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:
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
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:
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!
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,
Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks, windows,
Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, 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: or veil'd dames
Commit the war of white and damask in
Their nicely-gawded cheeks to the 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 temperately 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' the market-place nor on him put
The napless vesture of humility;
Nor showing, as the manner is, his wounds
To the 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, 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 the war, who have their provand
Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows
For sinking under them.
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 the war, who have their provand
Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows
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.
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 bear 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 the time,
But hearts for the event.
SICINIUS:
Have with you.
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 had 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.
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 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
an 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 ear that heard it.
First Officer:
No more of him; he is a worthy man: make way, they
are coming.
MENENIUS:
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
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
an 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 ear that heard it.
First Officer:
No more of him; he is a worthy man: make way, they
are coming.
MENENIUS:
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,
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.
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' the 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 blest to do, if he remember
A kinder value of the people than
He hath hereto prized 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.
Nay, keep your place.
First Senator:
Sit, Coriolanus; never shame to hear
What you have nobly done.
CORIOLANUS:
Your horror's 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.
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.
Nay, keep your place.
First Senator:
Sit, Coriolanus; never shame to hear
What you have nobly done.
CORIOLANUS:
Your horror's 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,
You soothed 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' the sun
When the alarum were struck than idly sit
To hear my nothings monster'd.
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 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: be bestrid
An o'er-press'd Roman and i' the 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' the field, and for his meed
Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age
Man-enter'd 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 timed with dying cries: alone he enter'd
The mortal gate of the city, which he painted
With shunless destiny; aidless came off,
And with a sudden reinforcement 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-quicken'd what in flesh was fatigate,
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 timed with dying cries: alone he enter'd
The mortal gate of the city, which he painted
With shunless destiny; aidless came off,
And with a sudden reinforcement 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
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 call'd
Both field and city ours, he never stood
To ease his breast with panting.
MENENIUS:
Worthy man!
First Senator:
He cannot but with measure fit the honours
Which we devise him.
COMINIUS:
Our spoils he kick'd at,
And look'd 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.
MENENIUS:
He's right noble:
Let him be call'd for.
First Senator:
Call Coriolanus.
Officer:
He doth appear.
MENENIUS:
The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleased
To make thee consul.
CORIOLANUS:
I do owe them still
My life and services.
MENENIUS:
It then remains
That you do speak to the people.
CORIOLANUS:
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.
SICINIUS:
Sir, the people
Must have their voices; neither will they bate
One jot of ceremony.
MENENIUS:
Put them not to't:
Pray you, go fit you to the custom and
Take to you, as your predecessors have,
Your honour with your form.
CORIOLANUS:
It is apart
That I shall blush in acting, and might well
Be taken from the people.
BRUTUS:
Mark you that?
CORIOLANUS:
To brag unto them, thus I did, and thus;
Show them the unaching scars which I should hide,
As if I had received them for the hire
Of their breath only!
MENENIUS:
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 honour.
Senators:
To Coriolanus come all joy and honour!
BRUTUS:
You see how he intends to use the people.
SICINIUS: |
May they perceive's intent! He will require them,
As if he did contemn what he requested
Should be in them to give.
BRUTUS:
Come, we'll inform them
Of our proceedings here: on the marketplace,
I know, they do attend us.
First Citizen:
Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him.
Second Citizen:
We may, sir, if we will.
Third Citizen:
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.
First Citizen:
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.
Third Citizen:
We have been called so of many; not that our heads
are some brown, some black, some auburn, some bald,
but that our wits are so diversely coloured: 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' the compass.
Second Citizen:
Think you so? Which way do you judge my wit would
fly?
Third Citizen:
Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another man's
will;'tis strongly wedged up in a block-head, but
if it were at liberty, 'twould, sure, southward.
Second Citizen:
Why that way?
Third Citizen:
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.
Second Citizen:
You are never without your tricks: you may, you may.
Third Citizen:
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.
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
honour, in giving him our own voices with our own
tongues: therefore follow me, and I direct you how
you shall go by him.
All:
Content, content.
MENENIUS:
O sir, you are not right: have you not known
The worthiest men have done't?
CORIOLANUS:
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 roar'd and ran
From the noise of our own drums.'
MENENIUS:
O me, the gods!
You must not speak of that: you must desire them
To think upon you.
CORIOLANUS:
Think upon me! hang 'em!
I would they would forget me, like the virtues
Which our divines lose by 'em.
MENENIUS:
You'll mar all:
I'll leave you: pray you, speak to 'em, I pray you,
In wholesome manner.
CORIOLANUS:
Bid them wash their faces
And keep their teeth clean.
So, here comes a brace.
You know the cause, air, of my standing here.
Third Citizen:
We do, sir; tell us what hath brought you to't.
CORIOLANUS:
He's to make his requests by
particulars; wherein every one of us has a single
honour, in giving him our own voices with our own
tongues: therefore follow me, and I direct you how
you shall go by him.
All:
Content, content.
MENENIUS:
O sir, you are not right: have you not known
The worthiest men have done't?
CORIOLANUS:
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 roar'd and ran
From the noise of our own drums.'
MENENIUS:
O me, the gods!
You must not speak of that: you must desire them
To think upon you.
CORIOLANUS:
Think upon me! hang 'em!
I would they would forget me, like the virtues
Which our divines lose by 'em.
MENENIUS:
You'll mar all:
I'll leave you: pray you, speak to 'em, I pray you,
In wholesome manner.
CORIOLANUS:
Bid them wash their faces
And keep their teeth clean.
So, here comes a brace.
You know the cause, air, of my standing here.
Third Citizen:
We do, sir; tell us what hath brought you to't.
Mine own desert.
Second Citizen:
Your own desert!
CORIOLANUS:
Ay, but not mine own desire.
Third Citizen:
How not your own desire?
CORIOLANUS:
No, sir,'twas never my desire yet to trouble the
poor with begging.
Third Citizen:
You must think, if we give you any thing, we hope to
gain by you.
CORIOLANUS:
Well then, I pray, your price o' the consulship?
First Citizen:
The price is to ask it kindly.
CORIOLANUS:
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?
Second Citizen:
You shall ha' it, worthy sir.
CORIOLANUS:
A match, sir. There's in all two worthy voices
begged. |
I have your alms: adieu.
Third Citizen:
But this is something odd.
Second Citizen:
An 'twere to give again,--but 'tis no matter.
I have your alms: adieu.
Third Citizen:
But this is something odd.
Second Citizen:
An 'twere to give again,--but 'tis no matter.
CORIOLANUS:
Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your
voices that I may be consul, I have here the
customary gown.
Fourth Citizen:
You have deserved nobly of your country, and you
have not deserved nobly.
CORIOLANUS:
Your enigma?
Fourth Citizen:
You have been a scourge to her enemies, you have
been a rod to her friends; you have not indeed loved
the common people.
CORIOLANUS:
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 practise
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.
Fifth Citizen:
We hope to find you our friend; and therefore give
you our voices heartily.
Fourth Citizen:
You have received many wounds for your country.
CORIOLANUS:
I will not seal your knowledge with showing them. I
will make much of your voices, and so trouble you no further.
Both Citizens:
The gods give you joy, sir, heartily!
CORIOLANUS:
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 do 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 heapt
For truth to o'er-peer. Rather than fool it so,
Let the high office and the honour go
To one that would do thus. I am half through;
The one part suffer'd, the other will I do.
Here come more voices.
Your voices: for your voices I have fought;
Watch'd 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.
Sixth Citizen:
He has done nobly, and cannot go without any honest
man's voice.
Seventh Citizen:
Therefore let him be consul: the gods give him joy,
and make him good friend to the people!
All Citizens:
Amen, amen. |
God save thee, noble consul!
CORIOLANUS:
Worthy voices!
MENENIUS:
You have stood your limitation; and the tribunes
Endue you with the people's voice: remains
That, in the official marks invested, you
Anon do meet the senate.
CORIOLANUS:
Is this done?
SICINIUS:
The custom of request you have discharged:
The people do admit you, and are summon'd
To meet anon, upon your approbation.
CORIOLANUS:
Where? at the senate-house?
SICINIUS:
There, Coriolanus.
CORIOLANUS:
May I change these garments?
SICINIUS:
You may, sir.
CORIOLANUS:
That I'll straight do; and, knowing myself again,
Repair to the senate-house.
MENENIUS:
God save thee, noble consul!
CORIOLANUS:
Worthy voices!
MENENIUS:
You have stood your limitation; and the tribunes
Endue you with the people's voice: remains
That, in the official marks invested, you
Anon do meet the senate.
CORIOLANUS:
Is this done?
SICINIUS:
The custom of request you have discharged:
The people do admit you, and are summon'd
To meet anon, upon your approbation.
CORIOLANUS:
Where? at the senate-house?
SICINIUS:
There, Coriolanus.
CORIOLANUS:
May I change these garments?
SICINIUS:
You may, sir.
CORIOLANUS:
That I'll straight do; and, knowing myself again,
Repair to the senate-house.
I'll keep you company. |
Will you along?
BRUTUS:
We stay here for the people.
SICINIUS:
Fare you well.
He has it now, and by his looks methink
'Tis warm at 's heart.
BRUTUS:
With a proud heart he wore his humble weeds.
will you dismiss the people?
SICINIUS:
How now, my masters! have you chose this man?
First Citizen:
He has our voices, sir.
BRUTUS:
We pray the gods he may deserve your loves.
Second Citizen:
Amen, sir: to my poor unworthy notice,
He mock'd us when he begg'd our voices.
Third Citizen:
Certainly
He flouted us downright.
First Citizen:
No,'tis his kind of speech: he did not mock us.
Second Citizen:
Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says
He used us scornfully: he should have show'd us
His marks of merit, wounds received for's country.
SICINIUS:
Why, so he did, I am sure.
Citizens:
No, no; no man saw 'em.
Third Citizen:
He said he had wounds, which he could show
in private;
And with his hat, thus waving it in scorn,
'I would be consul,' says he: 'aged 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?
SICINIUS:
Why either were you ignorant to see't,
Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness
To yield your voices?
BRUTUS:
Could you not have told him
As you were lesson'd, 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' the body of the weal; and now, arriving
A place of potency and sway o' the state,
If he should still malignantly remain
Fast foe to the plebeii, your voices might |
Will you along?
BRUTUS:
We stay here for the people.
SICINIUS:
Fare you well.
He has it now, and by his looks methink
'Tis warm at 's heart.
BRUTUS:
With a proud heart he wore his humble weeds.
will you dismiss the people?
SICINIUS:
How now, my masters! have you chose this man?
First Citizen:
He has our voices, sir.
BRUTUS:
We pray the gods he may deserve your loves.
Second Citizen:
Amen, sir: to my poor unworthy notice,
He mock'd us when he begg'd our voices.
Third Citizen:
Certainly
He flouted us downright.
First Citizen:
No,'tis his kind of speech: he did not mock us.
Second Citizen:
Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says
He used us scornfully: he should have show'd us
His marks of merit, wounds received for's country.
SICINIUS:
Why, so he did, I am sure.
Citizens:
No, no; no man saw 'em.
Third Citizen:
He said he had wounds, which he could show
in private;
And with his hat, thus waving it in scorn,
'I would be consul,' says he: 'aged 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?
SICINIUS:
Why either were you ignorant to see't,
Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness
To yield your voices?
BRUTUS:
Could you not have told him
As you were lesson'd, 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' the body of the weal; and now, arriving
A place of potency and sway o' the state,
If he should still malignantly remain
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.
SICINIUS:
Thus to have said,
As you were fore-advised, had touch'd his spirit
And tried his inclination; from him pluck'd
Either his gracious promise, which you might,
As cause had call'd you up, have held him to
Or else it would have gall'd his surly nature,
Which easily endures not article
Tying him to aught; so putting him to rage,
You should have ta'en the advantage of his choler
And pass'd him unelected.
BRUTUS:
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?
SICINIUS:
Have you
Ere now denied the asker? and now again
Of him that did not ask, but mock, bestow
Your sued-for tongues?
Third Citizen:
He's not confirm'd; we may deny him yet.
Second Citizen:
And will deny him:
I'll have five hundred voices of that sound.
First Citizen:
I twice five hundred and their friends to piece 'em.
BRUTUS:
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 therefore kept to do so.
SICINIUS:
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 scorn'd you; but your loves,
Thinking upon his services, took from you
The apprehension of his present portance,
Which most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion
After the inveterate hate he bears you.
BRUTUS:
Lay
A fault on us, your tribunes; that we laboured,
No impediment between, but that you must
Cast your election on him.
SICINIUS:
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.
BRUTUS:
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' the Marcians, from whence came
That Ancus Marcius, Numa's daughter's son,
Who, after great Hostilius, here was king;
Of the same house Publius and Quintus were,
That our beat water brought by conduits hither;
And
Twice being
Was his great ancestor.
SICINIUS:
One thus descended,
That hath beside 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 fixed enemy, and revoke
Your sudden approbation.
BRUTUS:
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 the Capitol.
All:
We will so: almost all
Repent in their election.
BRUTUS:
Let them go on;
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.
SICINIUS:
To the Capitol, come:
We will be there before the stream o' the people;
And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own,
Which we have goaded onward.
CORIOLANUS:
Tullus Aufidius then had made new head?
LARTIUS:
He had, my lord; and that it was which caused
Our swifter composition.
CORIOLANUS:
So then the Volsces stand but as at first,
Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make road.
Upon's again.
COMINIUS:
They are worn, lord consul, so,
That we shall hardly in our ages see
Their banners wave again.
CORIOLANUS:
Saw you Aufidius?
LARTIUS:
On safe-guard he came to me; and did curse
Against the Volsces, for they had so vilely
Yielded the town: he is retired to Antium.
CORIOLANUS:
Spoke he of me?
LARTIUS:
He did, my lord.
CORIOLANUS:
How? what?
LARTIUS:
How often he had met you, sword to sword;
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 call'd your vanquisher.
CORIOLANUS:
At Antium lives he?
LARTIUS:
At Antium.
CORIOLANUS:
I wish I had a cause to seek him there,
To oppose his hatred fully. |
Welcome home.
Behold, these are the tribunes of the people,
The tongues o' the common mouth: I do despise them;
For they do prank them in authority,
Against all noble sufferance.
SICINIUS:
Welcome home.
Behold, these are the tribunes of the people,
The tongues o' the common mouth: I do despise them;
For they do prank them in authority,
Against all noble sufferance.
Pass no further.
CORIOLANUS:
Ha! what is that?
BRUTUS:
It will be dangerous to go on: no further.
CORIOLANUS:
What makes this change?
MENENIUS:
The matter?
COMINIUS:
Hath he not pass'd the noble and the common?
BRUTUS:
Cominius, no.
CORIOLANUS:
Have I had children's voices?
First Senator:
Tribunes, give way; he shall to the market-place.
BRUTUS:
The people are incensed against him.
SICINIUS:
Stop,
Or all will fall in broil.
CORIOLANUS:
Are these your herd?
Must these have voices, that can yield them now
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?
MENENIUS:
Be calm, be calm.
CORIOLANUS:
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.
BRUTUS:
Call't not a plot:
The people cry you mock'd them, and of late,
When corn was given them gratis, you repined;
Scandal'd the suppliants for the people, call'd them
Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness.
CORIOLANUS:
Why, this was known before.
BRUTUS:
Not to them all.
CORIOLANUS:
Have you inform'd them sithence?
BRUTUS:
How! I inform them!
CORIOLANUS:
You are like to do such business.
BRUTUS:
Not unlike,
Each way, to better yours.
CORIOLANUS:
Why then should I be consul? By yond clouds,
Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me
Your fellow tribune.
SICINIUS:
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,
Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit,
Or never be so noble as a consul,
Nor yoke with him for tribune.
MENENIUS:
Let's be calm.
COMINIUS:
The people are abused; set on. This paltering
Becomes not Rome, nor has Coriolanus
Deserved this so dishonour'd rub, laid falsely
I' the plain way of his merit.
CORIOLANUS:
Tell me of corn!
This was my speech, and I will speak't again--
MENENIUS:
Not now, not now.
First Senator:
Not in this heat, sir, now.
CORIOLANUS:
Now, as I live, I will. |
My nobler friends,
I crave their pardons:
For the mutable, rank-scented many, 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 plough'd for, sow'd,
and scatter'd,
By mingling them with us, the honour'd number,
Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that
Which they have given to beggars.
MENENIUS:
Well, no more.
First Senator:
No more words, we beseech you.
My nobler friends,
I crave their pardons:
For the mutable, rank-scented many, 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 plough'd for, sow'd,
and scatter'd,
By mingling them with us, the honour'd number,
Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that
Which they have given to beggars.
MENENIUS:
Well, no more.
First Senator:
CORIOLANUS:
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 tatter us, yet sought
The very way to catch them.
BRUTUS:
You speak o' the people,
As if you were a god to punish, not
A man of their infirmity.
SICINIUS:
'Twere well
We let the people know't.
MENENIUS:
What, what? his choler?
CORIOLANUS:
Choler!
Were I as patient as the midnight sleep,
By Jove, 'twould be my mind!
SICINIUS:
It is a mind
That shall remain a poison where it is,
Not poison any further.
CORIOLANUS:
Shall remain!
Hear you this Triton of the minnows? mark you
His absolute 'shall'?
COMINIUS:
'Twas from the canon.
CORIOLANUS:
'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' the 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 learn'd,
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 frown in Greece. |
By Jove himself!
It makes the consuls base: and my soul aches
To know, when two authorities are up,
Neither supreme, how soon confusion
May enter 'twixt the gap of both and take
The one by the other.
COMINIUS:
Well, on to the market-place.
CORIOLANUS:
Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth
The corn o' the storehouse gratis, as 'twas used
Sometime in Greece,--
MENENIUS:
Well, well, no more of that.
CORIOLANUS:
Though there the people had more absolute power,
I say, they nourish'd disobedience, fed
The ruin of the state.
BRUTUS:
By Jove himself!
It makes the consuls base: and my soul aches
To know, when two authorities are up,
Neither supreme, how soon confusion
May enter 'twixt the gap of both and take
The one by the other.
COMINIUS:
Well, on to the market-place.
CORIOLANUS:
Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth
The corn o' the storehouse gratis, as 'twas used
Sometime in Greece,--
MENENIUS:
Well, well, no more of that.
CORIOLANUS:
Though there the people had more absolute power,
I say, they nourish'd disobedience, fed
The ruin of the state.
Why, shall the people give
One that speaks thus their voice?
CORIOLANUS:
I'll give my reasons,
More worthier than their voices. They know the corn
Was not our recompense, resting well assured
That ne'er did service for't: being press'd to the war,
Even when the navel of the state was touch'd,
They would not thread the gates. This kind of service
Did not deserve corn gratis. Being i' the war
Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they show'd
Most valour, spoke not for them: the accusation
Which they have often made against the senate,
All cause unborn, could never be the motive
Of our so frank donation. Well, what then?
How shall this bisson multitude 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
Break ope the locks o' the senate and bring in
The crows to peck the eagles.
MENENIUS:
Come, enough.
BRUTUS:
Enough, with over-measure.
CORIOLANUS:
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 barr'd,
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 dishonour
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 the in which doth control't.
BRUTUS:
Has said enough.
SICINIUS:
Has spoken like a traitor, and shall answer
As traitors do.
CORIOLANUS:
Thou wretch, despite o'erwhelm thee!
What should the people do with these bald tribunes?
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 dishonour
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 the in which doth control't.
BRUTUS:
Has said enough.
SICINIUS:
Has spoken like a traitor, and shall answer
As traitors do.
CORIOLANUS:
Thou wretch, despite o'erwhelm thee!
On whom depending, their obedience fails
To the 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' the dust.
BRUTUS:
Manifest treason!
SICINIUS:
This a consul? no.
BRUTUS:
The aediles, ho!
Let him be apprehended.
SICINIUS:
Go, call the people:
in whose name myself
Attach thee as a traitorous innovator,
A foe to the public weal: obey, I charge thee,
And follow to thine answer.
CORIOLANUS:
Hence, old goat!
Senators, &C:
We'll surety him.
COMINIUS:
Aged sir, hands off.
CORIOLANUS:
Hence, rotten thing! or I shall shake thy bones
Out of thy garments.
SICINIUS:
Help, ye citizens!
MENENIUS:
On both sides more respect.
SICINIUS:
Here's he that would take from you all your power.
BRUTUS:
Seize him, AEdiles!
Citizens:
Down with him! down with him!
Senators, &C:
Weapons, weapons, weapons!
'Tribunes!' 'Patricians!' 'Citizens!' 'What, ho!'
'Sicinius!' 'Brutus!' 'Coriolanus!' 'Citizens!'
'Peace, peace, peace!' 'Stay, hold, peace!'
MENENIUS:
What is about to be? I am out of breath;
Confusion's near; I cannot speak. |
You, tribunes
To the people! Coriolanus, patience!
Speak, good Sicinius.
SICINIUS:
Hear me, people; peace!
Citizens:
Let's hear our tribune: peace Speak, speak, speak.
SICINIUS:
You are at point to lose your liberties:
Marcius would have all from you; Marcius,
Whom late you have named for consul.
MENENIUS:
Fie, fie, fie!
This is the way to kindle, not to quench.
First Senator:
To unbuild the city and to lay all flat.
You, tribunes
To the people! Coriolanus, patience!
Speak, good Sicinius.
SICINIUS:
Hear me, people; peace!
Citizens:
Let's hear our tribune: peace Speak, speak, speak.
SICINIUS:
You are at point to lose your liberties:
Marcius would have all from you; Marcius,
Whom late you have named for consul.
MENENIUS:
Fie, fie, fie!
This is the way to kindle, not to quench.
First Senator:
SICINIUS:
What is the city but the people?
Citizens:
True,
The people are the city.
BRUTUS:
By the consent of all, we were establish'd
The people's magistrates.
Citizens:
You so remain.
MENENIUS:
And so are like to do.
COMINIUS:
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.
SICINIUS:
This deserves death.
BRUTUS:
Or let us stand to our authority,
Or let us lose it. We do here pronounce,
Upon the part o' the people, in whose power
We were elected theirs, Marcius is worthy
Of present death.
SICINIUS:
Therefore lay hold of him;
Bear him to the rock Tarpeian, and from thence
Into destruction cast him.
BRUTUS:
AEdiles, seize him!
Citizens:
Yield, Marcius, yield!
MENENIUS:
Hear me one word;
Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word.
AEdile:
Peace, peace!
MENENIUS:
BRUTUS:
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:
No, I'll die here.
There's some among you have beheld me fighting:
Come, try upon yourselves what you have seen me.
MENENIUS:
Down with that sword! Tribunes, withdraw awhile.
BRUTUS:
Lay hands upon him.
COMINIUS:
Help Marcius, help,
You that be noble; help him, young and old!
Citizens:
Down with him, down with him!
MENENIUS:
Go, get you to your house; be gone, away!
All will be naught else.
Second Senator:
Get you gone.
COMINIUS:
Stand fast;
We have as many friends as enemies.
MENENIUS:
Sham it be put to that?
First Senator:
The gods forbid!
I prithee, noble friend, home to thy house;
Leave us to cure this cause.
MENENIUS:
For 'tis a sore upon us,
You cannot tent yourself: be gone, beseech you.
COMINIUS:
Come, sir, along with us.
CORIOLANUS:
I would they were barbarians--as they are,
Though in Rome litter'd--not Romans--as they are not,
Though calved i' the porch o' the Capitol--
MENENIUS:
Be gone;
Put not your worthy rage into your tongue;
Lay hands upon him,
And bear him to the rock.
CORIOLANUS:
No, I'll die here.
There's some among you have beheld me fighting:
Come, try upon yourselves what you have seen me.
MENENIUS:
Down with that sword! Tribunes, withdraw awhile.
BRUTUS:
Lay hands upon him.
COMINIUS:
Help Marcius, help,
You that be noble; help him, young and old!
Citizens:
Down with him, down with him!
MENENIUS:
Go, get you to your house; be gone, away!
All will be naught else.
Second Senator:
Get you gone.
COMINIUS:
Stand fast;
We have as many friends as enemies.
MENENIUS:
Sham it be put to that?
First Senator:
The gods forbid!
I prithee, noble friend, home to thy house;
Leave us to cure this cause.
MENENIUS:
For 'tis a sore upon us,
You cannot tent yourself: be gone, beseech you.
COMINIUS:
Come, sir, along with us.
CORIOLANUS:
I would they were barbarians--as they are,
Though in Rome litter'd--not Romans--as they are not,
Though calved i' the porch o' the Capitol--
MENENIUS:
Be gone;
One time will owe another.
CORIOLANUS:
On fair ground
I could beat forty of them.
COMINIUS:
I could myself
Take up a brace o' the best of them; yea, the
two tribunes:
But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic;
And manhood is call'd foolery, when it stands
Against a falling fabric. Will you hence,
Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend
Like interrupted waters and o'erbear
What they are used to bear.
MENENIUS:
Pray you, be gone:
I'll try whether my old wit be in request
With those that have but little: this must be patch'd
With cloth of any colour.
COMINIUS:
Nay, come away.
A Patrician:
This man has marr'd his fortune.
MENENIUS:
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
His heart's his mouth:
What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent;
He heard the name of death.
Here's goodly work!
Second Patrician:
I would they were abed!
MENENIUS:
I would they were in Tiber! What the vengeance!
Could he not speak 'em fair?
SICINIUS:
Where is this viper
That would depopulate the city and
Be every man himself?
MENENIUS:
You worthy tribunes,--
SICINIUS:
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 nought.
First Citizen:
He shall well know
The noble tribunes are the people's mouths,
And we their hands.
Citizens:
He shall, sure on't.
MENENIUS:
Sir, sir,--
SICINIUS:
Peace!
MENENIUS:
Do not cry havoc, where you should but hunt
With modest warrant.
SICINIUS:
Sir, how comes't that you
Have holp to make this rescue?
MENENIUS:
Hear me speak:
As I do know the consul's worthiness,
So can I name his faults,--
SICINIUS:
Consul! what consul?
MENENIUS:
The consul Coriolanus.
BRUTUS:
He consul!
Citizens:
No, no, no, no, no.
MENENIUS:
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.
SICINIUS:
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 to-night.
MENENIUS:
Now the good gods forbid
That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude
Towards her deserved children is enroll'd
In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam
Should now eat up her own!
SICINIUS:
He's a disease that must be cut away.
MENENIUS:
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,
By many an ounce--he dropp'd 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 the end o' the world.
SICINIUS:
This is clean kam.
BRUTUS:
Merely awry: when he did love his country,
It honour'd him.
MENENIUS:
The service of the foot
Being once gangrened, is not then respected
For what before it was.
BRUTUS:
We'll hear no more.
Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence:
Lest his infection, being of catching nature,
Spread further.
MENENIUS:
One word more, one word.
This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find
The harm of unscann'd 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.
BRUTUS:
If it were so,--
SICINIUS:
What do ye talk?
Have we not had a taste of his obedience?
Our aediles smote? ourselves resisted? Come.
Proceed by process;
Lest parties, as he is beloved, break out,
And sack great Rome with Romans.
BRUTUS:
If it were so,--
SICINIUS:
What do ye talk?
Have we not had a taste of his obedience?
MENENIUS:
Consider this: he has been bred i' the wars
Since he could draw a sword, and is ill school'd
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.
First Senator:
Noble tribunes,
It is the humane way: the other course
Will prove too bloody, and the end of it
Unknown to the beginning.
SICINIUS:
Noble Menenius,
Be you then as the people's officer.
Masters, lay down your weapons.
BRUTUS:
Go not home.
SICINIUS:
Meet on the market-place. |
We'll attend you there:
Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed
In our first way.
MENENIUS:
I'll bring him to you.
Let me desire your company: he must come,
Or what is worst will follow.
First Senator:
Pray you, let's to him.
CORIOLANUS:
Let them puff 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.
A Patrician:
You do the nobler.
CORIOLANUS:
I muse my mother
Does not approve me further, who was wont
To call them woollen vassals, things created
To buy and sell with groats, to show bare heads
In congregations, to yawn, be still and wonder,
When one but of my ordinance stood up
To speak of peace or war.
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.
VOLUMNIA:
O, sir, sir, sir,
I would have had you put your power well on,
Before you had worn it out.
CORIOLANUS:
Let go.
VOLUMNIA:
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 show'd them how ye were disposed
Ere they lack'd power to cross you.
CORIOLANUS:
Let them hang.
A Patrician:
Ay, and burn too.
MENENIUS:
Come, come, you have been too rough, something
too rough;
You must return and mend it.
First Senator:
There's no remedy;
Unless, by not so doing, our good city
Cleave in the midst, and perish.
VOLUMNIA:
Pray, be counsell'd:
I have a heart as little apt as yours,
But yet a brain that leads my use of anger
To better vantage.
MENENIUS:
Well said, noble woman?
Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but that
The violent fit o' the time craves it as physic
For the whole state, I would put mine armour on,
Which I can scarcely bear.
CORIOLANUS:
What must I do?
MENENIUS:
Return to the tribunes.
CORIOLANUS:
Well, what then? what then?
MENENIUS:
Repent what you have spoke.
CORIOLANUS: |
We'll attend you there:
Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed
In our first way.
MENENIUS:
I'll bring him to you.
Let me desire your company: he must come,
Or what is worst will follow.
First Senator:
Pray you, let's to him.
CORIOLANUS:
Let them puff 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.
A Patrician:
You do the nobler.
CORIOLANUS:
I muse my mother
Does not approve me further, who was wont
To call them woollen vassals, things created
To buy and sell with groats, to show bare heads
In congregations, to yawn, be still and wonder,
When one but of my ordinance stood up
To speak of peace or war.
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.
VOLUMNIA:
O, sir, sir, sir,
I would have had you put your power well on,
Before you had worn it out.
CORIOLANUS:
Let go.
VOLUMNIA:
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 show'd them how ye were disposed
Ere they lack'd power to cross you.
CORIOLANUS:
Let them hang.
A Patrician:
Ay, and burn too.
MENENIUS:
Come, come, you have been too rough, something
too rough;
You must return and mend it.
First Senator:
There's no remedy;
Unless, by not so doing, our good city
Cleave in the midst, and perish.
VOLUMNIA:
Pray, be counsell'd:
I have a heart as little apt as yours,
But yet a brain that leads my use of anger
To better vantage.
MENENIUS:
Well said, noble woman?
Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but that
The violent fit o' the time craves it as physic
For the whole state, I would put mine armour on,
Which I can scarcely bear.
CORIOLANUS:
What must I do?
MENENIUS:
Return to the tribunes.
CORIOLANUS:
Well, what then? what then?
MENENIUS:
Repent what you have spoke.
For them! I cannot do it to the gods;
Must I then do't to them?
VOLUMNIA:
You are too absolute;
Though therein you can never be too noble,
But when extremities speak. |
I have heard you say,
Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends,
I' the war do grow together: grant that, and tell me,
In peace what each of them by the other lose,
That they combine not there.
CORIOLANUS:
Tush, tush!
MENENIUS:
A good demand.
VOLUMNIA:
If it be honour 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 honour, as in war, since that to both
It stands in like request?
CORIOLANUS:
Why force you this?
VOLUMNIA:
Because that now it lies you on to speak
To the people; not by your own instruction,
Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you,
But with such words that are but rooted in
Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables
Of no allowance to your bosom's truth.
Now, this no more dishonours 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 have heard you say,
Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends,
I' the war do grow together: grant that, and tell me,
In peace what each of them by the other lose,
That they combine not there.
CORIOLANUS:
Tush, tush!
MENENIUS:
A good demand.
VOLUMNIA:
If it be honour 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 honour, as in war, since that to both
It stands in like request?
CORIOLANUS:
Why force you this?
VOLUMNIA:
Because that now it lies you on to speak
To the people; not by your own instruction,
Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you,
But with such words that are but rooted in
Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables
Of no allowance to your bosom's truth.
Now, this no more dishonours you at all
Than to take in a town with gentle words,
Which else would put you to your fortune and
I would dissemble with my nature where
My fortunes and my friends at stake required
I should do so in honour: 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.
MENENIUS:
Noble lady!
Come, go with us; speak fair: you may salve so,
Not what is dangerous present, but the loss
Of what is past.
VOLUMNIA:
I prithee now, my son,
Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand;
And thus far having stretch'd it--here be with them--
Thy knee bussing the stones--for in such business
Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant
More learned 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.
MENENIUS:
This but done,
Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours;
For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free
As words to little purpose.
VOLUMNIA:
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. Here is Cominius.
COMINIUS:
I have been i' the market-place; and, sir,'tis fit
You make strong party, or defend yourself
By calmness or by absence: all's in anger.
MENENIUS:
Only fair speech.
COMINIUS:
I think 'twill serve, if he
Can thereto frame his spirit.
VOLUMNIA:
He must, and will
Prithee now, say you will, and go about it.
CORIOLANUS:
Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce?
Must I with base tongue give my noble heart
A lie that it must bear? Well, I will do't:
Yet, were there but this single plot to lose,
This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grind it
And throw't against the wind. To the market-place!
You have put me now to such a part which never
I shall discharge to the life.
COMINIUS:
Come, come, we'll prompt you.
VOLUMNIA:
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.
CORIOLANUS:
Well, I must do't:
Away, my disposition, and possess me
Some harlot's spirit! my throat of war be turn'd,
Which quired with my drum, into a pipe
Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice
That babies lulls 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 arm'd knees,
Who bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his
That hath received an alms! I will not do't,
Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth
And by my body's action teach my mind
A most inherent baseness.
VOLUMNIA:
At thy choice, then:
To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour
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'dst it from me,
But owe thy pride thyself.
CORIOLANUS:
Pray, be content:
Mother, I am going to the market-place;
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' the way of flattery further.
VOLUMNIA:
Do your will.
COMINIUS:
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.
CORIOLANUS:
The word is 'mildly.' Pray you, let us go:
Let them accuse me by invention, I
Will answer in mine honour.
MENENIUS:
Ay, but mildly.
CORIOLANUS:
Well, mildly be it then. |
Mildly!
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.
What, will he come?
AEdile:
He's coming.
BRUTUS:
How accompanied?
AEdile:
With old Menenius, and those senators
That always favour'd him.
SICINIUS:
Have you a catalogue
Of all the voices that we have procured
Set down by the poll?
AEdile:
I have; 'tis ready.
Mildly!
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.
What, will he come?
AEdile:
He's coming.
BRUTUS:
How accompanied?
AEdile:
With old Menenius, and those senators
That always favour'd him.
SICINIUS:
Have you a catalogue
Of all the voices that we have procured
Set down by the poll?
AEdile:
SICINIUS:
Have you collected them by tribes?
AEdile:
I have.
SICINIUS:
Assemble presently the people hither;
And when they bear me say 'It shall be so
I' the right and strength o' the 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' the truth o' the cause.
AEdile:
I shall inform them.
BRUTUS:
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.
AEdile:
Very well.
SICINIUS:
Make them be strong and ready for this hint,
When we shall hap to give 't them.
BRUTUS:
Go about it.
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 rein'd again to temperance; then he speaks
What's in his heart; and that is there which looks
With us to break his neck.
SICINIUS:
Well, here he comes.
MENENIUS:
Calmly, I do beseech you.
CORIOLANUS:
Ay, as an ostler, that for the poorest piece
Will bear the knave by the volume. The honour'd gods
Keep Rome in safety, and the chairs of justice
Supplied with worthy men! plant love among 's!
Throng our large temples with the shows of peace,
And not our streets with war!
First Senator:
Amen, amen.
MENENIUS:
A noble wish.
SICINIUS:
Draw near, ye people.
AEdile:
List to your tribunes. Audience: peace, I say!
CORIOLANUS:
First, hear me speak.
Both Tribunes:
Well, say. |
Peace, ho!
CORIOLANUS:
Shall I be charged no further than this present?
Must all determine here?
SICINIUS:
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?
CORIOLANUS:
I am content.
MENENIUS:
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' the holy churchyard.
CORIOLANUS:
Scratches with briers,
Scars to move laughter only.
MENENIUS:
Peace, ho!
CORIOLANUS:
Shall I be charged no further than this present?
Must all determine here?
SICINIUS:
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?
CORIOLANUS:
I am content.
MENENIUS:
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' the holy churchyard.
CORIOLANUS:
Scratches with briers,
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.
COMINIUS:
Well, well, no more.
CORIOLANUS:
What is the matter
That being pass'd for consul with full voice,
I am so dishonour'd that the very hour
You take it off again?
SICINIUS:
Answer to us.
CORIOLANUS:
Say, then: 'tis true, I ought so.
SICINIUS:
We charge you, that you have contrived to take
From Rome all season'd office and to wind
Yourself into a power tyrannical;
For which you are a traitor to the people.
CORIOLANUS:
How! traitor!
MENENIUS:
Nay, temperately; your promise.
CORIOLANUS:
The fires i' the lowest hell fold-in the people!
Call me their traitor! Thou injurious tribune!
Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths,
In thy hand clutch'd 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.
SICINIUS:
Mark you this, people?
Citizens:
To the rock, to the rock with him!
SICINIUS:
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 the extremest death.
BRUTUS:
But since he hath
Served well for Rome,--
CORIOLANUS:
What do you prate of service?
BRUTUS:
I talk of that, that know it.
CORIOLANUS:
You?
MENENIUS:
Is this the promise that you made your mother?
COMINIUS:
Know, I pray you,--
CORIOLANUS:
I know no further:
Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death,
Vagabond exile, raying, pent to linger
But with a grain a day, I would not buy
Their mercy at the price of one fair word;
Nor cheque my courage for what they can give,
To have't with saying 'Good morrow.'
SICINIUS: |
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 do distribute it; in the name o' the 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' the people's name,
I say it shall be so.
Citizens:
It shall be so, it shall be so; let him away:
He's banish'd, and it shall be so.
COMINIUS:
Hear me, my masters, and my common friends,--
SICINIUS:
He's sentenced; no more hearing.
COMINIUS:
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,
My dear wife's estimate, her womb's increase,
And treasure of my loins; then if I would
Speak that,--
SICINIUS:
We know your drift: speak what?
BRUTUS:
There's no more to be said, but he is banish'd,
As enemy to the people and his country:
It shall be so.
Citizens:
It shall be so, it shall be so.
CORIOLANUS:
You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate
As reek o' the 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 rumour 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 not 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.
AEdile:
The people's enemy is gone, is gone!
Citizens:
Our enemy is banish'd! he is gone! Hoo! hoo!
SICINIUS:
Go, see him out at gates, and follow him,
As he hath followed you, with all despite;
Give him deserved vexation. Let a guard
Attend us through the city.
Citizens:
Come, come; let's see him out at gates; come.
The gods preserve our noble tribunes! Come.
CORIOLANUS:
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 extremity was the trier of spirits;
That common chances common men could bear;
That when the sea was calm all boats alike
Show'd 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 conn'd them.
VIRGILIA:
O heavens! O heavens!
CORIOLANUS:
Nay! prithee, woman,--
VOLUMNIA:
Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome,
And occupations perish!
CORIOLANUS:
What, what, what!
I shall be loved when I am lack'd. Nay, mother.
Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say,
If you had been the wife of Hercules,
Six of his labours you'ld 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,
Farewell, my wife, my mother:
Thy tears are salter than a younger man's,
And venomous to thine eyes. My sometime general,
I have seen thee stem, and thou hast oft beheld
Heart-hardening 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 fear'd and talk'd of more than seen--your son
Will or exceed the common or be caught
With cautelous baits and practise.
VOLUMNIA:
My first son.
Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius
With thee awhile: determine on some course,
More than a wild exposture to each chance
That starts i' the way before thee.
CORIOLANUS:
O the gods!
COMINIUS:
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' the absence of the needer.
CORIOLANUS:
Fare ye 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.
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.
MENENIUS:
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'ld with thee every foot.
CORIOLANUS:
Give me thy hand: Come.
SICINIUS:
Bid them all home; he's gone, and we'll no further.
The nobility are vex'd, whom we see have sided
In his behalf.
BRUTUS:
Now we have shown our power,
Let us seem humbler after it is done
Than when it was a-doing.
SICINIUS:
Bid them home:
Say their great enemy is gone, and they
Stand in their ancient strength.
BRUTUS:
Dismiss them home.
Here comes his mother.
SICINIUS:
Let's not meet her.
BRUTUS:
Why?
SICINIUS:
They say she's mad.
BRUTUS:
They have ta'en note of us: keep on your way.
VOLUMNIA:
O, ye're well met: the hoarded plague o' the gods
Requite your love!
MENENIUS:
Peace, peace; be not so loud.
VOLUMNIA:
If that I could for weeping, you should hear,--
Nay, and you shall hear some.
Will you be gone?
VIRGILIA:
SICINIUS:
Are you mankind?
VOLUMNIA:
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?
SICINIUS:
O blessed heavens!
VOLUMNIA:
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.
SICINIUS:
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?
VIRGILIA:
What then!
He'ld make an end of thy posterity.
VOLUMNIA:
Bastards and all.
Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome!
MENENIUS:
Come, come, peace.
SICINIUS:
I would he had continued to his country
As he began, and not unknit himself
The noble knot he made.
BRUTUS:
I would he had.
VOLUMNIA:
'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 to know.
BRUTUS:
Pray, let us go.
VOLUMNIA:
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 banish'd, does exceed you all.
BRUTUS:
Well, well, we'll leave you.
SICINIUS:
Why stay we to be baited
With one that wants her wits?
VOLUMNIA:
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.
MENENIUS:
You have told them home;
And, by my troth, you have cause. You'll sup with me?
VOLUMNIA:
Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself,
And so shall starve with feeding. Come, let's go:
Leave this faint puling and lament as I do,
In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come.
MENENIUS:
Fie, fie, fie!
Roman:
I know you well, sir, and you know
me: your name, I think, is Adrian.
Volsce:
It is so, sir: truly, I have forgot you.
Roman:
I am a Roman; and my services are,
as you are, against 'em: know you me yet?
Volsce:
Nicanor? no.
Roman:
The same, sir.
Volsce:
You had more beard when I last saw you; but your
favour 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.
Roman:
There hath been in Rome strange insurrections; the
people against the senators, patricians, and nobles.
Volsce:
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.
Roman:
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 for ever. This lies glowing, I can
tell you, and is almost mature for the violent
breaking out.
Volsce:
Coriolanus banished!
Roman:
Banished, sir.
Volsce:
You will be welcome with this intelligence, Nicanor.
Roman:
The day serves well for them now. |
I have heard it
said, the fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is
when she's fallen out with her husband. Your noble
I have heard it
said, the fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is
Tullus Aufidius will appear well in these wars, his
great opposer, Coriolanus, being now in no request
of his country.
Volsce:
He cannot choose. I am most fortunate, thus
accidentally to encounter you: you have ended my
business, and I will merrily accompany you home.
Roman:
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?
Volsce:
A most royal one; the centurions and their charges,
distinctly billeted, already in the entertainment,
and to be on foot at an hour's warning.
Roman:
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.
Volsce:
You take my part from me, sir; I have the most cause
to be glad of yours.
Roman:
Well, let us go together.
CORIOLANUS:
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,
Lest that thy wives with spits and boys with stones
In puny battle slay me.
Save you, sir.
Citizen:
And you.
CORIOLANUS:
Direct me, if it be your will,
Where great Aufidius lies: is he in Antium?
Citizen:
He is, and feasts the nobles of the state
At his house this night.
CORIOLANUS:
Which is his house, beseech you?
Citizen:
This, here before you.
CORIOLANUS:
Thank you, sir: farewell.
O world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn,
Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart,
Whose house, 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 birth-place 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.
First Servingman:
Wine, wine, wine! What service
is here! I think our fellows are asleep.
Second Servingman:
Where's Cotus? my master calls
for him. |
Cotus!
CORIOLANUS:
A goodly house: the feast smells well; but I
Appear not like a guest.
First Servingman:
What would you have, friend? whence are you?
Here's no place for you: pray, go to the door.
CORIOLANUS:
I have deserved no better entertainment,
In being Coriolanus.
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.
CORIOLANUS:
Away!
Second Servingman:
Away! get you away.
CORIOLANUS:
Now thou'rt troublesome.
Second Servingman:
Are you so brave? I'll have you talked with anon.
Third Servingman:
What fellow's this?
First Servingman:
A strange one as ever I looked on: I cannot get him
out of the house: prithee, call my master to him.
Cotus!
CORIOLANUS:
A goodly house: the feast smells well; but I
Appear not like a guest.
First Servingman:
What would you have, friend? whence are you?
Here's no place for you: pray, go to the door.
CORIOLANUS:
I have deserved no better entertainment,
In being Coriolanus.
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.
CORIOLANUS:
Away!
Second Servingman:
Away! get you away.
CORIOLANUS:
Now thou'rt troublesome.
Second Servingman:
Are you so brave? I'll have you talked with anon.
Third Servingman:
What fellow's this?
First Servingman:
A strange one as ever I looked on: I cannot get him
Third Servingman:
What have you to do here, fellow? Pray you, avoid
the house.
CORIOLANUS:
Let me but stand; I will not hurt your hearth.
Third Servingman:
What are you?
CORIOLANUS:
A gentleman.
Third Servingman:
A marvellous poor one.
CORIOLANUS:
True, so I am.
Third Servingman:
Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other
station; here's no place for you; pray you, avoid: come.
CORIOLANUS:
Follow your function, go, and batten on cold bits.
Third Servingman:
What, you will not? Prithee, tell my master what a
strange guest he has here.
Second Servingman:
And I shall.
Third Servingman:
Where dwellest thou?
CORIOLANUS:
Under the canopy.
Third Servingman:
Under the canopy!
CORIOLANUS:
Ay.
Third Servingman:
Where's that?
CORIOLANUS:
I' the city of kites and crows.
Third Servingman:
I' the city of kites and crows! What an ass it is!
Then thou dwellest with daws too?
CORIOLANUS:
No, I serve not thy master.
Third Servingman:
How, sir! do you meddle with my master?
CORIOLANUS:
Ay; 'tis an honester service than to meddle with thy
mistress. |
Thou pratest, and pratest; serve with thy
trencher, hence!
AUFIDIUS:
Where is this fellow?
Second Servingman:
Here, sir: I'ld have beaten him like a dog, but for
disturbing the lords within.
AUFIDIUS:
Whence comest thou? what wouldst thou? thy name?
Why speak'st not? speak, man: what's thy name?
CORIOLANUS:
Thou pratest, and pratest; serve with thy
trencher, hence!
AUFIDIUS:
Where is this fellow?
Second Servingman:
Here, sir: I'ld have beaten him like a dog, but for
disturbing the lords within.
AUFIDIUS:
Whence comest thou? what wouldst thou? thy name?
Why speak'st not? speak, man: what's thy name?
If, Tullus,
Not yet thou knowest me, and, seeing me, dost not
Think me for the man I am, necessity
Commands me name myself.
AUFIDIUS:
What is thy name?
CORIOLANUS:
A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears,
And harsh in sound to thine.
AUFIDIUS:
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?
CORIOLANUS:
Prepare thy brow to frown: know'st
thou me yet?
AUFIDIUS:
I know thee not: thy name?
CORIOLANUS:
My name is Caius Marcius, 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,
Permitted by our dastard nobles, who
Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest;
And suffer'd me by the voice of slaves to be
Whoop'd 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 fear'd death, of all the men i' the 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 canker'd country with the spleen
Of all the under fiends. But if so be
Thou darest 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 follow'd 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.
AUFIDIUS:
O Marcius, Marcius!
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'ld not believe them more
Than thee, all noble Marcius. |
Let me twine
Mine arms about that body, where against
My grained ash an hundred times hath broke
And scarr'd the moon with splinters: here I clip
The anvil of my sword, and do contest
As hotly and as nobly with thy love
Let me twine
Mine arms about that body, where against
My grained ash an hundred times hath broke
And scarr'd the moon with splinters: here I clip
The anvil of my sword, and do contest
As ever in ambitious strength I did
Contend against thy valour. Know thou first,
I loved the maid I married; never man
Sigh'd 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 fort: 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 Marcius,
Had we no quarrel else to Rome, but that
Thou art thence banish'd, we would muster all
From twelve to seventy, and pouring war
Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,
Like a bold flood o'er-bear. O, come, go in,
And take our friendly senators by the hands;
Who now are here, taking their leaves of me,
Who am prepared against your territories,
Though not for Rome itself.
CORIOLANUS:
You bless me, gods!
AUFIDIUS:
Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt have
The leading of thine own revenges, take
The 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 e'er an enemy;
Yet, Marcius, that was much. |
Your hand: most welcome!
First Servingman:
Here's a strange alteration!
Second Servingman:
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.
First Servingman:
What an arm he has! he turned me about with his
finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top.
Second Servingman:
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.
First Servingman:
He had so; looking as it were--would I were hanged,
but I thought there was more in him than I could think.
Second Servingman:
So did I, I'll be sworn: he is simply the rarest
man i' the world.
First Servingman:
I think he is: but a greater soldier than he you wot on.
Second Servingman:
Who, my master?
First Servingman:
Nay, it's no matter for that.
Second Servingman:
Worth six on him.
First Servingman:
Nay, not so neither: but I take him to be the
greater soldier.
Second Servingman:
Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that:
for the defence of a town, our general is excellent.
First Servingman:
Ay, and for an assault too.
Third Servingman:
O slaves, I can tell you news,-- news, you rascals!
First Servingman:
What, what, what? let's partake.
Third Servingman:
I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as
lieve be a condemned man.
Your hand: most welcome!
First Servingman:
Here's a strange alteration!
Second Servingman:
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.
First Servingman:
What an arm he has! he turned me about with his
finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top.
Second Servingman:
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.
First Servingman:
He had so; looking as it were--would I were hanged,
but I thought there was more in him than I could think.
Second Servingman:
So did I, I'll be sworn: he is simply the rarest
man i' the world.
First Servingman:
I think he is: but a greater soldier than he you wot on.
Second Servingman:
Who, my master?
First Servingman:
Nay, it's no matter for that.
Second Servingman:
Worth six on him.
First Servingman:
Nay, not so neither: but I take him to be the
greater soldier.
Second Servingman:
Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that:
for the defence of a town, our general is excellent.
First Servingman:
Ay, and for an assault too.
Third Servingman:
O slaves, I can tell you news,-- news, you rascals!
First Servingman:
What, what, what? let's partake.
Third Servingman:
I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as
First Servingman:
Wherefore? wherefore?
Third Servingman:
Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our general,
Caius Marcius.
First Servingman:
Why do you say 'thwack our general '?
Third Servingman:
I do not say 'thwack our general;' but he was always
good enough for him.
Second Servingman:
Come, we are fellows and friends: he was ever too
hard for him; I have heard him say so himself.
First Servingman: |
He was too hard for him directly, to say the troth
on't: before Corioli he scotched him and notched
him like a carbon ado.
Second Servingman:
An he had been cannibally given, he might have
broiled and eaten him too.
First Servingman:
But, more of thy news?
Third Servingman:
Why, he is so made on here within, as if he were son
and heir to Mars; set at upper end o' the 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' the eye to his discourse. But
the bottom of the news is that our general is cut i'
the middle and but one half of 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 the ears: he
will mow all down before him, and leave his passage polled.
Second Servingman:
And he's as like to do't as any man I can imagine.
Third Servingman:
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 whilst he's in directitude.
First Servingman:
Directitude! what's that?
Third Servingman:
But when they shall see, sir, his crest up again,
and the man in blood, they will out of their
burrows, like conies after rain, and revel all with
him.
First Servingman:
But when goes this forward?
Third Servingman:
To-morrow; to-day; 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.
Second Servingman:
Why, then we shall have a stirring world again.
This peace is nothing, but to rust iron, increase
tailors, and breed ballad-makers.
First Servingman:
Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as
day does night; it's spritely, waking, 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.
Second Servingman:
'Tis so: and as war, in some sort, may be said to
be a ravisher, so it cannot be denied but peace is a
great maker of cuckolds.
First Servingman:
Ay, and it makes men hate one another.
Third Servingman:
Reason; because they then less need one another.
The wars for my money. I hope to see Romans as cheap
as Volscians. They are rising, they are rising.
All:
In, in, in, in!
SICINIUS:
We hear not of him, neither need we fear him;
His remedies are tame i' 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 pestering streets than see
Our tradesmen with in their shops and going
About their functions friendly.
BRUTUS:
We stood to't in good time.
Is this Menenius?
SICINIUS:
'Tis he,'tis he: O, he is grown most kind of late.
Both Tribunes:
Hail sir!
MENENIUS:
Hail to you both!
SICINIUS:
Your Coriolanus
Is not much miss'd, but with his friends:
The commonwealth doth stand, and so would do,
Were he more angry at it.
MENENIUS:
All's well; and might have been much better, if
He could have temporized.
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 pestering streets than see
Our tradesmen with in their shops and going
About their functions friendly.
BRUTUS:
We stood to't in good time.
Is this Menenius?
SICINIUS:
'Tis he,'tis he: O, he is grown most kind of late.
Both Tribunes:
Hail sir!
MENENIUS:
Hail to you both!
SICINIUS:
Your Coriolanus
Is not much miss'd, but with his friends:
The commonwealth doth stand, and so would do,
Were he more angry at it.
MENENIUS:
All's well; and might have been much better, if
SICINIUS:
Where is he, hear you?
MENENIUS:
Nay, I hear nothing: his mother and his wife
Hear nothing from him.
Citizens:
The gods preserve you both!
SICINIUS:
God-den, our neighbours.
BRUTUS:
God-den to you all, god-den to you all.
First Citizen:
Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our knees,
Are bound to pray for you both.
SICINIUS:
Live, and thrive!
BRUTUS:
Farewell, kind neighbours: we wish'd Coriolanus
Had loved you as we did.
Citizens:
Now the gods keep you!
Both Tribunes:
Farewell, farewell.
SICINIUS:
This is a happier and more comely time
Than when these fellows ran about the streets,
Crying confusion.
BRUTUS:
Caius Marcius was
A worthy officer i' the war; but insolent,
O'ercome with pride, ambitious past all thinking,
Self-loving,--
SICINIUS:
And affecting one sole throne,
Without assistance.
MENENIUS:
I think not so.
SICINIUS:
We should by this, to all our lamentation,
If he had gone forth consul, found it so.
BRUTUS:
The gods have well prevented it, and Rome
Sits safe and still without him.
AEdile:
Worthy tribunes,
There is a slave, whom we have put in prison,
Reports, the Volsces with two several powers
Are enter'd in the Roman territories,
And with the deepest malice of the war
Destroy what lies before 'em.
MENENIUS:
'Tis Aufidius,
Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishment,
Thrusts forth his horns again into the world;
Which were inshell'd when Marcius stood for Rome,
And durst not once peep out.
SICINIUS:
Come, what talk you
Of Marcius?
BRUTUS:
Go see this rumourer whipp'd. |
It cannot be
The Volsces dare break with us.
MENENIUS:
Cannot be!
We have record that very well it can,
And three examples of the like have been
Within my age. But reason with the fellow,
It cannot be
The Volsces dare break with us.
MENENIUS:
Cannot be!
We have record that very well it can,
And three examples of the like have been
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.
SICINIUS:
Tell not me:
I know this cannot be.
BRUTUS:
Not possible.
Messenger:
The nobles in great earnestness are going
All to the senate-house: some news is come
That turns their countenances.
SICINIUS:
'Tis this slave;--
Go whip him, 'fore the people's eyes:--his raising;
Nothing but his report.
Messenger:
Yes, worthy sir,
The slave's report is seconded; and more,
More fearful, is deliver'd.
SICINIUS:
What more fearful?
Messenger:
It is spoke freely out of many mouths--
How probable I do not know--that Marcius,
Join'd with Aufidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome,
And vows revenge as spacious as between
The young'st and oldest thing.
SICINIUS:
This is most likely!
BRUTUS:
Raised only, that the weaker sort may wish
Good Marcius home again.
SICINIUS:
The very trick on't.
MENENIUS:
This is unlikely:
He and Aufidius can no more atone
Than violentest contrariety.
Second Messenger:
You are sent for to the senate:
A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius
Associated with Aufidius, rages
Upon our territories; and have already
O'erborne their way, consumed with fire, and took
What lay before them.
COMINIUS:
O, you have made good work!
MENENIUS:
What news? what news?
COMINIUS:
You have holp to ravish your own daughters and
To melt the city leads upon your pates,
To see your wives dishonour'd to your noses,--
MENENIUS:
What's the news? what's the news?
COMINIUS:
Your temples burned in their cement, and
Your franchises, whereon you stood, confined
Into an auger's bore.
MENENIUS:
Pray now, your news?
You have made fair work, I fear me.--Pray, your news?--
If Marcius should be join'd with Volscians,--
COMINIUS:
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.
MENENIUS:
You have made good work,
You and your apron-men; you that stood so up much
on the voice of occupation and
The breath of garlic-eaters!
COMINIUS:
He will shake
Your Rome about your ears.
MENENIUS:
As Hercules
Did shake down mellow fruit.
You have made fair work!
BRUTUS:
But is this true, sir?
COMINIUS:
Ay; and you'll look pale
Before you find it other. All the regions
Do smilingly revolt; and who resist
Are mock'd for valiant ignorance,
And perish constant fools. |
Who is't can blame him?
Your enemies and his find something in him.
MENENIUS:
We are all undone, unless
The noble man have mercy.
COMINIUS:
Who shall ask it?
The tribunes cannot do't for shame; the people
Who is't can blame him?
Your enemies and his find something in him.
MENENIUS:
We are all undone, unless
The noble man have mercy.
COMINIUS:
Who shall ask it?
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 show'd like enemies.
MENENIUS:
'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!
COMINIUS:
You have brought
A trembling upon Rome, such as was never
So incapable of help.
Both Tribunes:
Say not we brought it.
MENENIUS:
How! Was it we? we loved him but, like beasts
And cowardly nobles, gave way unto your clusters,
Who did hoot him out o' the city.
COMINIUS:
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 defence,
That Rome can make against them.
MENENIUS:
Here come the clusters.
And is Aufidius with him? You are they
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.
Citizens:
Faith, we hear fearful news.
First Citizen:
For mine own part,
When I said, banish him, I said 'twas pity.
Second Citizen:
And so did I.
Third Citizen:
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.
COMINIUS:
Ye re goodly things, you voices!
MENENIUS:
You have made
Good work, you and your cry! Shall's to the Capitol?
COMINIUS:
O, ay, what else?
SICINIUS:
Go, masters, get you home; be not dismay'd:
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.
First Citizen:
The gods be good to us! Come, masters, let's home.
I ever said we were i' the wrong when we banished
him.
Second Citizen:
So did we all. But, come, let's home.
BRUTUS:
I do not like this news.
SICINIUS:
Nor I.
BRUTUS:
Let's to the Capitol. |
Would half my wealth
Would buy this for a lie!
SICINIUS:
Pray, let us go.
AUFIDIUS:
Do they still fly to the Roman?
Lieutenant:
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 darken'd in this action, sir,
Even by your own.
AUFIDIUS:
I cannot help it now,
Unless, by using means, I lame the foot
Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier,
Would half my wealth
Would buy this for a lie!
SICINIUS:
Pray, let us go.
AUFIDIUS:
Do they still fly to the Roman?
Lieutenant:
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 darken'd in this action, sir,
Even by your own.
AUFIDIUS:
I cannot help it now,
Unless, by using means, I lame the foot
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.
Lieutenant:
Yet I wish, sir,--
I mean for your particular,--you had not
Join'd in commission with him; but either
Had borne the action of yourself, or else
To him had left it solely.
AUFIDIUS:
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 the vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly.
And shows good husbandry for the Volscian state,
Fights dragon-like, 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.
Lieutenant:
Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry Rome?
AUFIDIUS:
All places yield 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 honours 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 the casque to the cushion, but commanding peace
Even with the same austerity and garb
As he controll'd the war; but one of these--
As he hath spices of them all, not all,
For I dare so far free him--made him fear'd,
So hated, and so banish'd: but he has a merit,
To choke it in the utterance. So our virtues
Lie in the interpretation of the time:
And power, unto itself most commendable,
Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair
To extol what it hath done.
One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail;
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.
MENENIUS:
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 call'd me father:
But what o' that? Go, you that banish'd him;
A mile before his tent fall down, and knee
The way into his mercy: nay, if he coy'd
He call'd me father:
But what o' that? Go, you that banish'd him;
A mile before his tent fall down, and knee
To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home.
COMINIUS:
He would not seem to know me.
MENENIUS:
Do you hear?
COMINIUS:
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: forbad all names;
He was a kind of nothing, titleless,
Till he had forged himself a name o' the fire
Of burning Rome.
MENENIUS:
Why, so: you have made good work!
A pair of tribunes that have rack'd for Rome,
To make coals cheap,--a noble memory!
COMINIUS:
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 punish'd.
MENENIUS:
Very well:
Could he say less?
COMINIUS:
I offer'd 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 the offence.
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 dined:
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 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.
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;
I shall ere long have knowledge
Of my success.
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
'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.
First Senator:
Stay: whence are you?
Second Senator:
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 Senator:
From whence?
MENENIUS:
From Rome.
First Senator:
You may not pass, you must return: our general
Will no more hear from thence.
Second Senator:
You'll see your Rome embraced 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 Senator:
Be it so; go back: the virtue of your name
Is not here passable.
MENENIUS:
I tell thee, fellow,
The general is my lover: I have been
The book of his good acts, whence men have read
His name 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 Senator:
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 Senator:
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 dined, canst thou tell? for I would not
speak with him till after dinner.
First Senator:
You are a Roman, are you?
MENENIUS:
I am, as thy general is.
First Senator:
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.
MENENIUS:
Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here, he would
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.
MENENIUS:
use me with estimation.
Second Senator:
Come, my captain knows you not.
MENENIUS:
I mean, thy general.
First Senator:
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,--
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 standest not i' the 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 loved thee,
Take this along; I writ it for thy sake
And would have rent it. Another word, Menenius,
I will not hear thee speak. |
This man, Aufidius,
Was my beloved in Rome: yet thou behold'st!
AUFIDIUS:
You keep a constant temper.
First Senator:
Now, sir, is your name Menenius?
Second Senator:
'Tis a spell, you see, of much power: you know the
way home again.
First Senator:
Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your
greatness back?
Second Senator:
What cause, do you think, I have to swoon?
This man, Aufidius,
Was my beloved in Rome: yet thou behold'st!
AUFIDIUS:
You keep a constant temper.
First Senator:
Now, sir, is your name Menenius?
Second Senator:
'Tis a spell, you see, of much power: you know the
way home again.
First Senator:
Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your
greatness back?
Second Senator:
MENENIUS:
I neither care for the world nor your general: for
such things as you, I can scarce think there's any,
ye'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!
First Senator:
A noble fellow, I warrant him.
Second Senator:
The worthy fellow is our general: he's the rock, the
oak not to be wind-shaken.
CORIOLANUS:
We will before the walls of Rome tomorrow
Set down our host. My partner in this action,
You must report to the 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 a crack'd 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 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. Ha! what shout is this?
Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow
In the same time 'tis made? I will not.
My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mould
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.
What is that curt'sy 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 changed
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
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!
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' the earth;
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.
CORIOLANUS:
What is 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;
Murdering 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 the 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' the wars
Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw,
And saving 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'ld 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
To ally 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 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,
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
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 thorough 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 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.
VIRGILIA:
Ay, and mine,
That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name
Living to time.
Young MARCIUS:
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.
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 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 dogg'd with curses;
Whose chronicle thus writ: 'The man was noble,
But with his last attempt he wiped it out;
Destroy'd his country, and his name remains
To the 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' the 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' the 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 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;
He turns away:
Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees.
To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride
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 bands 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 a-fire,
And then I'll speak a little.
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 moved 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'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!
AUFIDIUS:
CORIOLANUS:
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.
MENENIUS:
See you yond coign o' the Capitol, yond
corner-stone?
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
sentenced 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 loved 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 finished 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
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
you.
SICINIUS:
The gods be good unto us!
MENENIUS:
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.
Messenger:
Sir, if you'ld 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.
SICINIUS:
What's the news?
Second Messenger:
Good news, good news; the ladies have prevail'd,
The Volscians are dislodged, and Marcius gone:
A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,
No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins.
SICINIUS:
Friend,
Art thou certain this is true? is it 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 the gates. Why, hark you!
The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries and fifes,
Tabours and cymbals and the shouting Romans,
Make the sun dance. Hark you!
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!
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?
Second Messenger:
Almost at point to enter.
SICINIUS:
We will meet them,
And help the joy.
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;
Cry 'Welcome, ladies, welcome!'
All:
Welcome, ladies, Welcome!
AUFIDIUS:
Go tell the lords o' the city I am here:
Deliver them this paper: having read it,
Bid them repair to the market place; 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 to appear before the people, hoping
To purge herself with words: dispatch.
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 raised him, and I pawn'd
Him I accuse
The city ports by this hath enter'd and
Intends to appear before the people, hoping
To purge herself with words: dispatch.
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
Mine honour for his truth: who being so heighten'd,
He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery,
Seducing so my friends; and, to this end,
He bow'd his nature, never known before
But to be rough, unswayable and free.
Third Conspirator:
Sir, his stoutness
When he did stand for consul, which he lost
By lack of stooping,--
AUFIDIUS:
That I would have spoke of:
Being banish'd 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 seem'd his follower, not partner, and
He waged me with his countenance, as if
I had been mercenary.
First Conspirator:
So he did, my lord:
The army marvell'd at it, and, in the last,
When he had carried Rome and that we look'd
For no less spoil than glory,--
AUFIDIUS:
There was it:
For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him.
At a few drops of women's rheum, which are
As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour
Of our great action: therefore shall he die,
And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark!
First Conspirator:
Your native town you enter'd like a post,
And had no welcomes home: but he returns,
Splitting the air with noise.
Second Conspirator:
And patient fools,
Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear
With giving him glory.
Third Conspirator:
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
When he lies along,
His reasons with his body.
AUFIDIUS:
Say no more:
Here come the lords.
All The Lords:
You are most welcome home.
AUFIDIUS:
I have not deserved it.
But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused
What I have written to you?
Lords:
We have.
First Lord:
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.
AUFIDIUS:
He approaches: you shall hear him.
CORIOLANUS:
Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier,
No more infected with my country's love
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
Do more than counterpoise a full third part
The charges of the action. We have made peace
With no less honour to the Antiates
Than shame to the Romans: and we here deliver,
Subscribed by the consuls and patricians,
Together with the seal o' the senate, what
We have compounded on.
AUFIDIUS:
Read it not, noble lords;
But tell the traitor, in the high'st degree
He hath abused your powers.
CORIOLANUS:
Traitor! how now!
AUFIDIUS:
Ay, traitor, Marcius!
CORIOLANUS:
Marcius!
AUFIDIUS:
Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius: dost thou think
I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name
Coriolanus in Corioli?
You lords and heads o' the state, perfidiously
He has betray'd 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' the war, but at his nurse's tears
He whined and roar'd away your victory,
That pages blush'd at him and men of heart
Look'd wondering each at other.
CORIOLANUS:
Hear'st thou, Mars?
AUFIDIUS:
Name not the god, thou boy of tears!
CORIOLANUS:
Ha!
AUFIDIUS:
No more.
CORIOLANUS:
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 impress'd upon him; that
Must bear my beating to his grave--shall join
To thrust the lie unto him.
First Lord:
Peace, both, and hear me speak.
CORIOLANUS:
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 dove-cote, I
Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli:
Alone I did it. |
Boy!
AUFIDIUS:
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?
All Conspirators:
Let him die for't.
All The People:
'Tear him to pieces.' 'Do it presently.' 'He kill'd
Boy!
AUFIDIUS:
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?
All Conspirators:
Let him die for't.
All The People:
my son.' 'My daughter.' 'He killed my cousin
Marcus.' 'He killed my father.'
Second Lord:
Peace, ho! no outrage: peace!
The man is noble and his fame folds-in
This orb o' the earth. His last offences to us
Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius,
And trouble not the peace.
CORIOLANUS:
O that I had him,
With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe,
To use my lawful sword!
AUFIDIUS:
Insolent villain!
All Conspirators:
Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him!
Lords:
Hold, hold, hold, hold!
AUFIDIUS:
My noble masters, hear me speak.
First Lord:
O Tullus,--
Second Lord:
Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep.
Third Lord:
Tread not upon him. Masters all, be quiet;
Put up your swords.
AUFIDIUS:
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 honours
To call me to your senate, I'll deliver
Myself your loyal servant, or endure
Your heaviest censure.
First Lord:
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.
Second Lord:
His own impatience
Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.
Let's make the best of it.
AUFIDIUS:
My rage is gone;
And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up.
Help, three o' the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.
Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully:
Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he
Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail the injury,
Yet he shall have a noble memory. |
Assist.
GLOUCESTER:
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barded steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Assist.
GLOUCESTER:
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barded steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,
About a prophecy, which says that 'G'
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here
Clarence comes.
Brother, good day; what means this armed guard
That waits upon your grace?
CLARENCE:
His majesty
Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed
This conduct to convey me to the Tower.
GLOUCESTER:
Upon what cause?
CLARENCE:
Because my name is George.
GLOUCESTER:
Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours;
He should, for that, commit your godfathers:
O, belike his majesty hath some intent
That you shall be new-christen'd in the Tower.
But what's the matter, Clarence? may I know?
CLARENCE: |
Yea, Richard, when I know; for I protest
As yet I do not: but, as I can learn,
He hearkens after prophecies and dreams;
And from the cross-row plucks the letter G.
And says a wizard told him that by G
His issue disinherited should be;
And, for my name of George begins with G,
It follows in his thought that I am he.
These, as I learn, and such like toys as these
Have moved his highness to commit me now.
GLOUCESTER:
Why, this it is, when men are ruled by women:
'Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower:
My Lady Grey his wife, Clarence, 'tis she
That tempers him to this extremity.
Was it not she and that good man of worship,
Anthony Woodville, her brother there,
That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower,
From whence this present day he is deliver'd?
We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe.
CLARENCE:
By heaven, I think there's no man is secure
But the queen's kindred and night-walking heralds
That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore.
Heard ye not what an humble suppliant
Lord hastings was to her for his delivery?
GLOUCESTER:
Humbly complaining to her deity
Got my lord chamberlain his liberty.
I'll tell you what; I think it is our way,
If we will keep in favour with the king,
To be her men and wear her livery:
The jealous o'erworn widow and herself,
Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen.
Are mighty gossips in this monarchy.
BRAKENBURY:
I beseech your graces both to pardon me;
His majesty hath straitly given in charge
That no man shall have private conference,
Of what degree soever, with his brother.
GLOUCESTER:
Even so; an't please your worship, Brakenbury,
You may partake of any thing we say:
We speak no treason, man: we say the king
Is wise and virtuous, and his noble queen
Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous;
We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot,
A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue;
And that the queen's kindred are made gentle-folks:
How say you sir? Can you deny all this?
BRAKENBURY:
With this, my lord, myself have nought to do.
GLOUCESTER:
Naught to do with mistress Shore! I tell thee, fellow,
He that doth naught with her, excepting one,
Were best he do it secretly, alone.
BRAKENBURY:
What one, my lord?
GLOUCESTER:
Her husband, knave: wouldst thou betray me?
BRAKENBURY:
I beseech your grace to pardon me, and withal
Forbear your conference with the noble duke.
CLARENCE:
We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.
GLOUCESTER:
We are the queen's abjects, and must obey.
Brother, farewell: I will unto the king;
And whatsoever you will employ me in,
Were it to call King Edward's widow sister,
I will perform it to enfranchise you.
Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood
Touches me deeper than you can imagine.
CLARENCE:
I know it pleaseth neither of us well.
GLOUCESTER:
Well, your imprisonment shall not be long;
Meantime, have patience.
CLARENCE:
I must perforce. |
Farewell.
GLOUCESTER:
Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return.
Simple, plain Clarence! I do love thee so,
That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,
If heaven will take the present at our hands.
But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hastings?
Farewell.
GLOUCESTER:
Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return.
Simple, plain Clarence! I do love thee so,
That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,
If heaven will take the present at our hands.
HASTINGS:
Good time of day unto my gracious lord!
GLOUCESTER:
As much unto my good lord chamberlain!
Well are you welcome to the open air.
How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment?
HASTINGS:
With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must:
But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks
That were the cause of my imprisonment.
GLOUCESTER:
No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too;
For they that were your enemies are his,
And have prevail'd as much on him as you.
HASTINGS:
More pity that the eagle should be mew'd,
While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.
GLOUCESTER:
What news abroad?
HASTINGS:
No news so bad abroad as this at home;
The King is sickly, weak and melancholy,
And his physicians fear him mightily.
GLOUCESTER:
Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad indeed.
O, he hath kept an evil diet long,
And overmuch consumed his royal person:
'Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
What, is he in his bed?
HASTINGS:
He is.
GLOUCESTER:
Go you before, and I will follow you.
He cannot live, I hope; and must not die
Till George be pack'd with post-horse up to heaven.
I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence,
With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments;
And, if I fall not in my deep intent,
Clarence hath not another day to live:
Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy,
And leave the world for me to bustle in!
For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter.
What though I kill'd her husband and her father?
The readiest way to make the wench amends
Is to become her husband and her father:
The which will I; not all so much for love
As for another secret close intent,
By marrying her which I must reach unto.
But yet I run before my horse to market:
Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and reigns:
When they are gone, then must I count my gains.
LADY ANNE:
Set down, set down your honourable load,
If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,
Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.
Poor key-cold figure of a holy king!
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster!
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood!
Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost,
To hear the lamentations of Poor Anne,
Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son,
Stabb'd by the selfsame hand that made these wounds!
Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life,
I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes.
Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes!
Cursed be the heart that had the heart to do it!
Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence!
More direful hap betide that hated wretch,
That makes us wretched by the death of thee,
Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads,
Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives!
If ever he have child, abortive be it,
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
Whose ugly and unnatural aspect |
May fright the hopeful mother at the view;
And that be heir to his unhappiness!
If ever he have wife, let her he made
A miserable by the death of him
As I am made by my poor lord and thee!
Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load,
Taken from Paul's to be interred there;
And still, as you are weary of the weight,
Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse.
GLOUCESTER:
Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.
LADY ANNE:
What black magician conjures up this fiend,
To stop devoted charitable deeds?
GLOUCESTER:
Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul,
I'll make a corse of him that disobeys.
Gentleman:
My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.
GLOUCESTER:
Unmanner'd dog! stand thou, when I command:
Advance thy halbert higher than my breast,
Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot,
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.
LADY ANNE:
What, do you tremble? are you all afraid?
Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal,
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,
His soul thou canst not have; therefore be gone.
GLOUCESTER:
Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.
LADY ANNE:
Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us not;
For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,
Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims.
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries.
O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds
Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh!
Blush, Blush, thou lump of foul deformity;
For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood
From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells;
Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural,
Provokes this deluge most unnatural.
O God, which this blood madest, revenge his death!
O earth, which this blood drink'st revenge his death!
Either heaven with lightning strike the
murderer dead,
Or earth, gape open wide and eat him quick,
As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood
Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered!
GLOUCESTER:
Lady, you know no rules of charity,
Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.
LADY ANNE:
Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor man:
No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.
GLOUCESTER:
But I know none, and therefore am no beast.
LADY ANNE:
O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!
GLOUCESTER:
More wonderful, when angels are so angry.
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of these supposed-evils, to give me leave,
By circumstance, but to acquit myself.
LADY ANNE:
Vouchsafe, defused infection of a man,
For these known evils, but to give me leave,
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.
GLOUCESTER:
Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have
Some patient leisure to excuse myself.
LADY ANNE:
Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make
No excuse current, but to hang thyself.
GLOUCESTER:
By such despair, I should accuse myself.
LADY ANNE:
And, by despairing, shouldst thou stand excused;
For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others.
GLOUCESTER: |
Say that I slew them not?
LADY ANNE:
Why, then they are not dead:
But dead they are, and devilish slave, by thee.
GLOUCESTER:
I did not kill your husband.
LADY ANNE:
Why, then he is alive.
GLOUCESTER:
Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand.
LADY ANNE:
In thy foul throat thou liest: Queen Margaret saw
Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood;
The which thou once didst bend against her breast,
But that thy brothers beat aside the point.
GLOUCESTER:
I was provoked by her slanderous tongue,
which laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.
LADY ANNE:
Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind.
Which never dreamt on aught but butcheries:
Didst thou not kill this king?
GLOUCESTER:
I grant ye.
LADY ANNE:
Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grant me too
Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed!
O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous!
GLOUCESTER:
The fitter for the King of heaven, that hath him.
LADY ANNE:
He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.
GLOUCESTER:
Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither;
For he was fitter for that place than earth.
LADY ANNE:
And thou unfit for any place but hell.
GLOUCESTER:
Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it.
LADY ANNE:
Some dungeon.
GLOUCESTER:
Your bed-chamber.
LADY ANNE:
I'll rest betide the chamber where thou liest!
GLOUCESTER:
So will it, madam till I lie with you.
LADY ANNE:
I hope so.
GLOUCESTER:
I know so. |
But, gentle Lady Anne,
To leave this keen encounter of our wits,
And fall somewhat into a slower method,
Is not the causer of the timeless deaths
Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward,
As blameful as the executioner?
LADY ANNE:
Thou art the cause, and most accursed effect.
GLOUCESTER:
Your beauty was the cause of that effect;
Your beauty: which did haunt me in my sleep
To undertake the death of all the world,
So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.
LADY ANNE:
If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,
These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.
GLOUCESTER:
These eyes could never endure sweet beauty's wreck;
You should not blemish it, if I stood by:
As all the world is cheered by the sun,
So I by that; it is my day, my life.
LADY ANNE:
Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life!
GLOUCESTER:
Curse not thyself, fair creature thou art both.
LADY ANNE:
I would I were, to be revenged on thee.
GLOUCESTER:
It is a quarrel most unnatural,
To be revenged on him that loveth you.
LADY ANNE:
It is a quarrel just and reasonable,
To be revenged on him that slew my husband.
GLOUCESTER:
He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband,
Did it to help thee to a better husband.
LADY ANNE:
His better doth not breathe upon the earth.
GLOUCESTER:
He lives that loves thee better than he could.
LADY ANNE:
Name him.
GLOUCESTER:
Plantagenet.
LADY ANNE:
Why, that was he.
GLOUCESTER:
The selfsame name, but one of better nature.
But, gentle Lady Anne,
To leave this keen encounter of our wits,
And fall somewhat into a slower method,
Is not the causer of the timeless deaths
Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward,
As blameful as the executioner?
LADY ANNE:
Thou art the cause, and most accursed effect.
GLOUCESTER:
Your beauty was the cause of that effect;
Your beauty: which did haunt me in my sleep
To undertake the death of all the world,
So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.
LADY ANNE:
If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,
These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.
GLOUCESTER:
These eyes could never endure sweet beauty's wreck;
You should not blemish it, if I stood by:
As all the world is cheered by the sun,
So I by that; it is my day, my life.
LADY ANNE:
Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life!
GLOUCESTER:
Curse not thyself, fair creature thou art both.
LADY ANNE:
I would I were, to be revenged on thee.
GLOUCESTER:
It is a quarrel most unnatural,
To be revenged on him that loveth you.
LADY ANNE:
It is a quarrel just and reasonable,
To be revenged on him that slew my husband.
GLOUCESTER:
He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband,
Did it to help thee to a better husband.
LADY ANNE:
His better doth not breathe upon the earth.
GLOUCESTER:
He lives that loves thee better than he could.
LADY ANNE:
Name him.
GLOUCESTER:
Plantagenet.
LADY ANNE:
Why, that was he.
GLOUCESTER:
LADY ANNE:
Where is he?
GLOUCESTER: |
Here.
Why dost thou spit at me?
LADY ANNE:
Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake!
GLOUCESTER:
Never came poison from so sweet a place.
LADY ANNE:
Never hung poison on a fouler toad.
Out of my sight! thou dost infect my eyes.
GLOUCESTER:
Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.
LADY ANNE:
Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead!
GLOUCESTER:
I would they were, that I might die at once;
For now they kill me with a living death.
Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears,
Shamed their aspect with store of childish drops:
These eyes that never shed remorseful tear,
No, when my father York and Edward wept,
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made
When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at him;
Nor when thy warlike father, like a child,
Told the sad story of my father's death,
And twenty times made pause to sob and weep,
That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks
Like trees bedash'd with rain: in that sad time
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear;
And what these sorrows could not thence exhale,
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping.
I never sued to friend nor enemy;
My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word;
But now thy beauty is proposed my fee,
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak.
Teach not thy lips such scorn, for they were made
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,
Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword;
Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom.
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
And humbly beg the death upon my knee.
Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry,
But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me.
Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward,
But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on.
Take up the sword again, or take up me.
LADY ANNE:
Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death,
I will not be the executioner.
GLOUCESTER:
Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.
LADY ANNE:
I have already.
GLOUCESTER:
Tush, that was in thy rage:
Speak it again, and, even with the word,
That hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love,
Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love;
To both their deaths thou shalt be accessary.
LADY ANNE:
I would I knew thy heart.
GLOUCESTER:
'Tis figured in my tongue.
LADY ANNE:
I fear me both are false.
GLOUCESTER:
Then never man was true.
LADY ANNE:
Well, well, put up your sword.
GLOUCESTER:
Say, then, my peace is made.
LADY ANNE:
That shall you know hereafter.
GLOUCESTER:
But shall I live in hope?
LADY ANNE:
All men, I hope, live so.
GLOUCESTER:
Vouchsafe to wear this ring.
LADY ANNE:
To take is not to give.
GLOUCESTER:
Look, how this ring encompasseth finger.
Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart;
Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.
And if thy poor devoted suppliant may
But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.
LADY ANNE:
What is it?
GLOUCESTER:
That it would please thee leave these sad designs
To him that hath more cause to be a mourner, |
And presently repair to Crosby Place;
Where, after I have solemnly interr'd
At Chertsey monastery this noble king,
And wet his grave with my repentant tears,
I will with all expedient duty see you:
For divers unknown reasons. |
I beseech you,
Grant me this boon.
LADY ANNE:
With all my heart; and much it joys me too,
To see you are become so penitent.
Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me.
GLOUCESTER:
Bid me farewell.
LADY ANNE:
'Tis more than you deserve;
But since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already.
GLOUCESTER:
Sirs, take up the corse.
GENTLEMEN:
Towards Chertsey, noble lord?
GLOUCESTER:
No, to White-Friars; there attend my coining.
Was ever woman in this humour woo'd?
Was ever woman in this humour won?
I'll have her; but I will not keep her long.
What! I, that kill'd her husband and his father,
To take her in her heart's extremest hate,
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
The bleeding witness of her hatred by;
Having God, her conscience, and these bars
against me,
And I nothing to back my suit at all,
But the plain devil and dissembling looks,
And yet to win her, all the world to nothing!
Ha!
Hath she forgot already that brave prince,
Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since,
Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury?
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,
Framed in the prodigality of nature,
Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,
The spacious world cannot again afford
And will she yet debase her eyes on me,
That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince,
And made her widow to a woful bed?
On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety?
On me, that halt and am unshapen thus?
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,
I do mistake my person all this while:
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
Myself to be a marvellous proper man.
I'll be at charges for a looking-glass,
And entertain some score or two of tailors,
To study fashions to adorn my body:
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
Will maintain it with some little cost.
But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave;
And then return lamenting to my love.
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,
That I may see my shadow as I pass.
RIVERS:
Have patience, madam: there's no doubt his majesty
Will soon recover his accustom'd health.
GREY:
In that you brook it in, it makes him worse:
Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort,
And cheer his grace with quick and merry words.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
If he were dead, what would betide of me?
RIVERS:
No other harm but loss of such a lord.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
The loss of such a lord includes all harm.
GREY:
The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son,
To be your comforter when he is gone.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
Oh, he is young and his minority
Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester,
A man that loves not me, nor none of you.
RIVERS:
Is it concluded that he shall be protector?
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
It is determined, not concluded yet:
But so it must be, if the king miscarry.
GREY:
Here come the lords of Buckingham and Derby.
BUCKINGHAM:
Good time of day unto your royal grace!
DERBY:
God make your majesty joyful as you have been! |
I beseech you,
Grant me this boon.
LADY ANNE:
With all my heart; and much it joys me too,
To see you are become so penitent.
Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me.
GLOUCESTER:
Bid me farewell.
LADY ANNE:
'Tis more than you deserve;
But since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already.
GLOUCESTER:
Sirs, take up the corse.
GENTLEMEN:
Towards Chertsey, noble lord?
GLOUCESTER:
No, to White-Friars; there attend my coining.
Was ever woman in this humour woo'd?
Was ever woman in this humour won?
I'll have her; but I will not keep her long.
What! I, that kill'd her husband and his father,
To take her in her heart's extremest hate,
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
The bleeding witness of her hatred by;
Having God, her conscience, and these bars
against me,
And I nothing to back my suit at all,
But the plain devil and dissembling looks,
And yet to win her, all the world to nothing!
Ha!
Hath she forgot already that brave prince,
Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since,
Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury?
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,
Framed in the prodigality of nature,
Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,
The spacious world cannot again afford
And will she yet debase her eyes on me,
That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince,
And made her widow to a woful bed?
On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety?
On me, that halt and am unshapen thus?
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,
I do mistake my person all this while:
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
Myself to be a marvellous proper man.
I'll be at charges for a looking-glass,
And entertain some score or two of tailors,
To study fashions to adorn my body:
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
Will maintain it with some little cost.
But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave;
And then return lamenting to my love.
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,
That I may see my shadow as I pass.
RIVERS:
Have patience, madam: there's no doubt his majesty
Will soon recover his accustom'd health.
GREY:
In that you brook it in, it makes him worse:
Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort,
And cheer his grace with quick and merry words.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
If he were dead, what would betide of me?
RIVERS:
No other harm but loss of such a lord.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
The loss of such a lord includes all harm.
GREY:
The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son,
To be your comforter when he is gone.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
Oh, he is young and his minority
Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester,
A man that loves not me, nor none of you.
RIVERS:
Is it concluded that he shall be protector?
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
It is determined, not concluded yet:
But so it must be, if the king miscarry.
GREY:
Here come the lords of Buckingham and Derby.
BUCKINGHAM:
Good time of day unto your royal grace!
DERBY:
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
The Countess Richmond, good my Lord of Derby.
To your good prayers will scarcely say amen.
Yet, Derby, notwithstanding she's your wife,
And loves not me, be you, good lord, assured |
I hate not you for her proud arrogance.
DERBY:
I do beseech you, either not believe
The envious slanders of her false accusers;
Or, if she be accused in true report,
Bear with her weakness, which, I think proceeds
From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice.
RIVERS:
Saw you the king to-day, my Lord of Derby?
DERBY:
But now the Duke of Buckingham and I
Are come from visiting his majesty.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
What likelihood of his amendment, lords?
BUCKINGHAM:
Madam, good hope; his grace speaks cheerfully.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
God grant him health! Did you confer with him?
BUCKINGHAM:
Madam, we did: he desires to make atonement
Betwixt the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers,
And betwixt them and my lord chamberlain;
And sent to warn them to his royal presence.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
Would all were well! but that will never be
I fear our happiness is at the highest.
GLOUCESTER:
They do me wrong, and I will not endure it:
Who are they that complain unto the king,
That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not?
By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly
That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours.
Because I cannot flatter and speak fair,
Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive and cog,
Duck with French nods and apish courtesy,
I must be held a rancorous enemy.
Cannot a plain man live and think no harm,
But thus his simple truth must be abused
By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?
RIVERS:
To whom in all this presence speaks your grace?
GLOUCESTER:
To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace.
When have I injured thee? when done thee wrong?
Or thee? or thee? or any of your faction?
A plague upon you all! His royal person,--
Whom God preserve better than you would wish!--
Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while,
But you must trouble him with lewd complaints.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
Brother of Gloucester, you mistake the matter.
The king, of his own royal disposition,
And not provoked by any suitor else;
Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred,
Which in your outward actions shows itself
Against my kindred, brothers, and myself,
Makes him to send; that thereby he may gather
The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it.
GLOUCESTER:
I cannot tell: the world is grown so bad,
That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch:
Since every Jack became a gentleman
There's many a gentle person made a Jack.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
Come, come, we know your meaning, brother
Gloucester;
You envy my advancement and my friends':
God grant we never may have need of you!
GLOUCESTER:
Meantime, God grants that we have need of you:
Your brother is imprison'd by your means,
Myself disgraced, and the nobility
Held in contempt; whilst many fair promotions
Are daily given to ennoble those
That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
By Him that raised me to this careful height
From that contented hap which I enjoy'd,
I never did incense his majesty
Against the Duke of Clarence, but have been
An earnest advocate to plead for him.
My lord, you do me shameful injury,
Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects.
GLOUCESTER:
You may deny that you were not the cause
Of my Lord Hastings' late imprisonment.
RIVERS:
She may, my lord, for--
GLOUCESTER: |
She may, Lord Rivers! why, who knows not so?
She may do more, sir, than denying that:
She may help you to many fair preferments,
And then deny her aiding hand therein,
And lay those honours on your high deserts.
What may she not? She may, yea, marry, may she--
RIVERS:
What, marry, may she?
GLOUCESTER:
What, marry, may she! marry with a king,
A bachelor, a handsome stripling too:
I wis your grandam had a worser match.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
My Lord of Gloucester, I have too long borne
Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs:
By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty
With those gross taunts I often have endured.
I had rather be a country servant-maid
Than a great queen, with this condition,
To be thus taunted, scorn'd, and baited at:
Small joy have I in being England's queen.
QUEEN MARGARET:
And lessen'd be that small, God, I beseech thee!
Thy honour, state and seat is due to me.
GLOUCESTER:
What! threat you me with telling of the king?
Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have said
I will avouch in presence of the king:
I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower.
'Tis time to speak; my pains are quite forgot.
QUEEN MARGARET:
Out, devil! I remember them too well:
Thou slewest my husband Henry in the Tower,
And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury.
GLOUCESTER:
Ere you were queen, yea, or your husband king,
I was a pack-horse in his great affairs;
A weeder-out of his proud adversaries,
A liberal rewarder of his friends:
To royalize his blood I spilt mine own.
QUEEN MARGARET:
Yea, and much better blood than his or thine.
GLOUCESTER:
In all which time you and your husband Grey
Were factious for the house of Lancaster;
And, Rivers, so were you. |
Was not your husband
In Margaret's battle at Saint Alban's slain?
Let me put in your minds, if you forget,
What you have been ere now, and what you are;
Withal, what I have been, and what I am.
QUEEN MARGARET:
A murderous villain, and so still thou art.
GLOUCESTER:
Poor Clarence did forsake his father, Warwick;
Yea, and forswore himself,--which Jesu pardon!--
QUEEN MARGARET:
Which God revenge!
GLOUCESTER:
To fight on Edward's party for the crown;
And for his meed, poor lord, he is mew'd up.
I would to God my heart were flint, like Edward's;
Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine
I am too childish-foolish for this world.
QUEEN MARGARET:
Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave the world,
Thou cacodemon! there thy kingdom is.
RIVERS:
My Lord of Gloucester, in those busy days
Which here you urge to prove us enemies,
We follow'd then our lord, our lawful king:
So should we you, if you should be our king.
GLOUCESTER:
If I should be! I had rather be a pedlar:
Far be it from my heart, the thought of it!
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
As little joy, my lord, as you suppose
You should enjoy, were you this country's king,
As little joy may you suppose in me.
That I enjoy, being the queen thereof.
QUEEN MARGARET:
A little joy enjoys the queen thereof;
For I am she, and altogether joyless.
I can no longer hold me patient.
Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out
In sharing that which you have pill'd from me!
Was not your husband
In Margaret's battle at Saint Alban's slain?
Let me put in your minds, if you forget,
What you have been ere now, and what you are;
Withal, what I have been, and what I am.
QUEEN MARGARET:
A murderous villain, and so still thou art.
GLOUCESTER:
Poor Clarence did forsake his father, Warwick;
Yea, and forswore himself,--which Jesu pardon!--
QUEEN MARGARET:
Which God revenge!
GLOUCESTER:
To fight on Edward's party for the crown;
And for his meed, poor lord, he is mew'd up.
I would to God my heart were flint, like Edward's;
Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine
I am too childish-foolish for this world.
QUEEN MARGARET:
Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave the world,
Thou cacodemon! there thy kingdom is.
RIVERS:
My Lord of Gloucester, in those busy days
Which here you urge to prove us enemies,
We follow'd then our lord, our lawful king:
So should we you, if you should be our king.
GLOUCESTER:
If I should be! I had rather be a pedlar:
Far be it from my heart, the thought of it!
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
As little joy, my lord, as you suppose
You should enjoy, were you this country's king,
As little joy may you suppose in me.
That I enjoy, being the queen thereof.
QUEEN MARGARET:
A little joy enjoys the queen thereof;
For I am she, and altogether joyless.
I can no longer hold me patient.
Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out
Which of you trembles not that looks on me?
If not, that, I being queen, you bow like subjects,
Yet that, by you deposed, you quake like rebels?
O gentle villain, do not turn away!
GLOUCESTER:
Foul wrinkled witch, what makest thou in my sight?
QUEEN MARGARET: |
But repetition of what thou hast marr'd;
That will I make before I let thee go.
GLOUCESTER:
Wert thou not banished on pain of death?
QUEEN MARGARET:
I was; but I do find more pain in banishment
Than death can yield me here by my abode.
A husband and a son thou owest to me;
And thou a kingdom; all of you allegiance:
The sorrow that I have, by right is yours,
And all the pleasures you usurp are mine.
GLOUCESTER:
The curse my noble father laid on thee,
When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper
And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes,
And then, to dry them, gavest the duke a clout
Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland--
His curses, then from bitterness of soul
Denounced against thee, are all fall'n upon thee;
And God, not we, hath plagued thy bloody deed.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
So just is God, to right the innocent.
HASTINGS:
O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that babe,
And the most merciless that e'er was heard of!
RIVERS:
Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported.
DORSET:
No man but prophesied revenge for it.
BUCKINGHAM:
Northumberland, then present, wept to see it.
QUEEN MARGARET:
What were you snarling all before I came,
Ready to catch each other by the throat,
And turn you all your hatred now on me?
Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven?
That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death,
Their kingdom's loss, my woful banishment,
Could all but answer for that peevish brat?
Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven?
Why, then, give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses!
If not by war, by surfeit die your king,
As ours by murder, to make him a king!
Edward thy son, which now is Prince of Wales,
For Edward my son, which was Prince of Wales,
Die in his youth by like untimely violence!
Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen,
Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self!
Long mayst thou live to wail thy children's loss;
And see another, as I see thee now,
Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine!
Long die thy happy days before thy death;
And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief,
Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen!
Rivers and Dorset, you were standers by,
And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my son
Was stabb'd with bloody daggers: God, I pray him,
That none of you may live your natural age,
But by some unlook'd accident cut off!
GLOUCESTER:
Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd hag!
QUEEN MARGARET:
And leave out thee? stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me.
If heaven have any grievous plague in store
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,
O, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe,
And then hurl down their indignation
On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace!
The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul!
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou livest,
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends!
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,
Unless it be whilst some tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils!
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog!
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity
The slave of nature and the son of hell!
Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb!
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins! |
Thou rag of honour! thou detested--
GLOUCESTER:
Margaret.
QUEEN MARGARET:
Richard!
GLOUCESTER:
Ha!
QUEEN MARGARET:
I call thee not.
GLOUCESTER:
I cry thee mercy then, for I had thought
That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names.
QUEEN MARGARET:
Why, so I did; but look'd for no reply.
O, let me make the period to my curse!
GLOUCESTER:
'Tis done by me, and ends in 'Margaret.'
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
Thus have you breathed your curse against yourself.
QUEEN MARGARET:
Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune!
Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider,
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about?
Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself.
The time will come when thou shalt wish for me
To help thee curse that poisonous bunchback'd toad.
HASTINGS:
False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse,
Lest to thy harm thou move our patience.
QUEEN MARGARET:
Foul shame upon you! you have all moved mine.
RIVERS:
Were you well served, you would be taught your duty.
QUEEN MARGARET:
To serve me well, you all should do me duty,
Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects:
O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty!
DORSET:
Dispute not with her; she is lunatic.
QUEEN MARGARET:
Peace, master marquess, you are malapert:
Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current.
O, that your young nobility could judge
What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable!
They that stand high have many blasts to shake them;
And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.
GLOUCESTER:
Good counsel, marry: learn it, learn it, marquess.
DORSET:
It toucheth you, my lord, as much as me.
GLOUCESTER:
Yea, and much more: but I was born so high,
Our aery buildeth in the cedar's top,
And dallies with the wind and scorns the sun.
QUEEN MARGARET:
And turns the sun to shade; alas! alas!
Witness my son, now in the shade of death;
Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath
Hath in eternal darkness folded up.
Your aery buildeth in our aery's nest.
O God, that seest it, do not suffer it!
As it was won with blood, lost be it so!
BUCKINGHAM:
Have done! for shame, if not for charity.
QUEEN MARGARET:
Urge neither charity nor shame to me:
Uncharitably with me have you dealt,
And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd.
My charity is outrage, life my shame
And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage.
BUCKINGHAM:
Have done, have done.
QUEEN MARGARET:
O princely Buckingham I'll kiss thy hand,
In sign of league and amity with thee:
Now fair befal thee and thy noble house!
Thy garments are not spotted with our blood,
Nor thou within the compass of my curse.
BUCKINGHAM:
Nor no one here; for curses never pass
The lips of those that breathe them in the air.
QUEEN MARGARET:
I'll not believe but they ascend the sky,
And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace.
O Buckingham, take heed of yonder dog!
Look, when he fawns, he bites; and when he bites,
His venom tooth will rankle to the death: |
Have not to do with him, beware of him;
Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him,
And all their ministers attend on him.
GLOUCESTER:
What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham?
BUCKINGHAM:
Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord.
QUEEN MARGARET:
What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel?
And soothe the devil that I warn thee from?
O, but remember this another day,
When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow,
And say poor Margaret was a prophetess!
Live each of you the subjects to his hate,
And he to yours, and all of you to God's!
HASTINGS:
My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses.
RIVERS:
And so doth mine: I muse why she's at liberty.
GLOUCESTER:
I cannot blame her: by God's holy mother,
She hath had too much wrong; and I repent
My part thereof that I have done to her.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
I never did her any, to my knowledge.
GLOUCESTER:
But you have all the vantage of her wrong.
I was too hot to do somebody good,
That is too cold in thinking of it now.
Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid,
He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains
God pardon them that are the cause of it!
RIVERS:
A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion,
To pray for them that have done scathe to us.
GLOUCESTER:
So do I ever:
being well-advised.
For had I cursed now, I had cursed myself.
CATESBY:
Madam, his majesty doth call for you,
And for your grace; and you, my noble lords.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
Catesby, we come. |
Lords, will you go with us?
RIVERS:
Madam, we will attend your grace.
GLOUCESTER:
I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl.
The secret mischiefs that I set abroach
I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
Clarence, whom I, indeed, have laid in darkness,
I do beweep to many simple gulls
Namely, to Hastings, Derby, Buckingham;
And say it is the queen and her allies
That stir the king against the duke my brother.
Now, they believe it; and withal whet me
To be revenged on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey:
But then I sigh; and, with a piece of scripture,
Tell them that God bids us do good for evil:
And thus I clothe my naked villany
With old odd ends stolen out of holy writ;
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.
But, soft! here come my executioners.
How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates!
Are you now going to dispatch this deed?
First Murderer:
We are, my lord; and come to have the warrant
That we may be admitted where he is.
GLOUCESTER:
Well thought upon; I have it here about me.
When you have done, repair to Crosby Place.
But, sirs, be sudden in the execution,
Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead;
For Clarence is well-spoken, and perhaps
May move your hearts to pity if you mark him.
First Murderer:
Tush!
Fear not, my lord, we will not stand to prate;
Talkers are no good doers: be assured
We come to use our hands and not our tongues.
GLOUCESTER:
Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes drop tears:
I like you, lads; about your business straight;
Go, go, dispatch.
First Murderer:
We will, my noble lord.
BRAKENBURY:
Why looks your grace so heavily today?
CLARENCE:
O, I have pass'd a miserable night, |
Lords, will you go with us?
RIVERS:
Madam, we will attend your grace.
GLOUCESTER:
I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl.
The secret mischiefs that I set abroach
I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
Clarence, whom I, indeed, have laid in darkness,
I do beweep to many simple gulls
Namely, to Hastings, Derby, Buckingham;
And say it is the queen and her allies
That stir the king against the duke my brother.
Now, they believe it; and withal whet me
To be revenged on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey:
But then I sigh; and, with a piece of scripture,
Tell them that God bids us do good for evil:
And thus I clothe my naked villany
With old odd ends stolen out of holy writ;
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.
But, soft! here come my executioners.
How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates!
Are you now going to dispatch this deed?
First Murderer:
We are, my lord; and come to have the warrant
That we may be admitted where he is.
GLOUCESTER:
Well thought upon; I have it here about me.
When you have done, repair to Crosby Place.
But, sirs, be sudden in the execution,
Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead;
For Clarence is well-spoken, and perhaps
May move your hearts to pity if you mark him.
First Murderer:
Tush!
Fear not, my lord, we will not stand to prate;
Talkers are no good doers: be assured
We come to use our hands and not our tongues.
GLOUCESTER:
Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes drop tears:
I like you, lads; about your business straight;
Go, go, dispatch.
First Murderer:
We will, my noble lord.
BRAKENBURY:
Why looks your grace so heavily today?
CLARENCE:
So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams,
That, as I am a Christian faithful man,
I would not spend another such a night,
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days,
So full of dismal terror was the time!
BRAKENBURY:
What was your dream? I long to hear you tell it.
CLARENCE:
Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower,
And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy;
And, in my company, my brother Gloucester;
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk
Upon the hatches: thence we looked toward England,
And cited up a thousand fearful times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster
That had befall'n us. |
As we paced along
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
Methought that Gloucester stumbled; and, in falling,
Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard,
Into the tumbling billows of the main.
Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears!
What ugly sights of death within mine eyes!
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
Ten thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,
All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea:
Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems,
Which woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep,
And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
BRAKENBURY:
Had you such leisure in the time of death
To gaze upon the secrets of the deep?
CLARENCE:
Methought I had; and often did I strive
To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood
As we paced along
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
Methought that Gloucester stumbled; and, in falling,
Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard,
Into the tumbling billows of the main.
Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears!
What ugly sights of death within mine eyes!
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
Ten thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,
All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea:
Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems,
Which woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep,
And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
BRAKENBURY:
Had you such leisure in the time of death
To gaze upon the secrets of the deep?
CLARENCE:
Methought I had; and often did I strive
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
To seek the empty, vast and wandering air;
But smother'd it within my panting bulk,
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.
BRAKENBURY:
Awaked you not with this sore agony?
CLARENCE:
O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life;
O, then began the tempest to my soul,
Who pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood,
With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.
The first that there did greet my stranger soul,
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick;
Who cried aloud, 'What scourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?'
And so he vanish'd: then came wandering by
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood; and he squeak'd out aloud,
'Clarence is come; false, fleeting, perjured Clarence,
That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury;
Seize on him, Furies, take him to your torments!'
With that, methoughts, a legion of foul fiends
Environ'd me about, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that with the very noise
I trembling waked, and for a season after
Could not believe but that I was in hell,
Such terrible impression made the dream.
BRAKENBURY: |
No marvel, my lord, though it affrighted you;
I promise, I am afraid to hear you tell it.
CLARENCE:
O Brakenbury, I have done those things,
Which now bear evidence against my soul,
For Edward's sake; and see how he requites me!
O God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee,
But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds,
Yet execute thy wrath in me alone,
O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children!
I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me;
My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.
BRAKENBURY:
I will, my lord: God give your grace good rest!
Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours,
Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night.
Princes have but their tides for their glories,
An outward honour for an inward toil;
And, for unfelt imagination,
They often feel a world of restless cares:
So that, betwixt their tides and low names,
There's nothing differs but the outward fame.
First Murderer:
Ho! who's here?
BRAKENBURY:
In God's name what are you, and how came you hither?
First Murderer:
I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs.
BRAKENBURY:
Yea, are you so brief?
Second Murderer:
O sir, it is better to be brief than tedious. |
Show
him our commission; talk no more.
BRAKENBURY:
I am, in this, commanded to deliver
The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands:
I will not reason what is meant hereby,
Because I will be guiltless of the meaning.
Here are the keys, there sits the duke asleep:
I'll to the king; and signify to him
That thus I have resign'd my charge to you.
First Murderer:
Do so, it is a point of wisdom: fare you well.
Second Murderer:
What, shall we stab him as he sleeps?
First Murderer:
No; then he will say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes.
Second Murderer:
When he wakes! why, fool, he shall never wake till
the judgment-day.
First Murderer:
Why, then he will say we stabbed him sleeping.
Second Murderer:
The urging of that word 'judgment' hath bred a kind
of remorse in me.
First Murderer:
What, art thou afraid?
Second Murderer:
Not to kill him, having a warrant for it; but to be
damned for killing him, from which no warrant can defend us.
First Murderer:
I thought thou hadst been resolute.
Second Murderer:
So I am, to let him live.
First Murderer:
Back to the Duke of Gloucester, tell him so.
Second Murderer:
I pray thee, stay a while: I hope my holy humour
will change; 'twas wont to hold me but while one
would tell twenty.
First Murderer:
How dost thou feel thyself now?
Second Murderer:
'Faith, some certain dregs of conscience are yet
within me.
First Murderer:
Remember our reward, when the deed is done.
Second Murderer:
'Zounds, he dies: I had forgot the reward.
First Murderer:
Where is thy conscience now?
Second Murderer:
In the Duke of Gloucester's purse.
First Murderer:
So when he opens his purse to give us our reward,
thy conscience flies out.
Second Murderer:
Let it go; there's few or none will entertain it.
First Murderer:
How if it come to thee again?
Second Murderer:
I'll not meddle with it: it is a dangerous thing: it
makes a man a coward: a man cannot steal, but it
accuseth him; he cannot swear, but it cheques him;
he cannot lie with his neighbour's wife, but it |
Show
him our commission; talk no more.
BRAKENBURY:
I am, in this, commanded to deliver
The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands:
I will not reason what is meant hereby,
Because I will be guiltless of the meaning.
Here are the keys, there sits the duke asleep:
I'll to the king; and signify to him
That thus I have resign'd my charge to you.
First Murderer:
Do so, it is a point of wisdom: fare you well.
Second Murderer:
What, shall we stab him as he sleeps?
First Murderer:
No; then he will say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes.
Second Murderer:
When he wakes! why, fool, he shall never wake till
the judgment-day.
First Murderer:
Why, then he will say we stabbed him sleeping.
Second Murderer:
The urging of that word 'judgment' hath bred a kind
of remorse in me.
First Murderer:
What, art thou afraid?
Second Murderer:
Not to kill him, having a warrant for it; but to be
damned for killing him, from which no warrant can defend us.
First Murderer:
I thought thou hadst been resolute.
Second Murderer:
So I am, to let him live.
First Murderer:
Back to the Duke of Gloucester, tell him so.
Second Murderer:
I pray thee, stay a while: I hope my holy humour
will change; 'twas wont to hold me but while one
would tell twenty.
First Murderer:
How dost thou feel thyself now?
Second Murderer:
'Faith, some certain dregs of conscience are yet
within me.
First Murderer:
Remember our reward, when the deed is done.
Second Murderer:
'Zounds, he dies: I had forgot the reward.
First Murderer:
Where is thy conscience now?
Second Murderer:
In the Duke of Gloucester's purse.
First Murderer:
So when he opens his purse to give us our reward,
thy conscience flies out.
Second Murderer:
Let it go; there's few or none will entertain it.
First Murderer:
How if it come to thee again?
Second Murderer:
I'll not meddle with it: it is a dangerous thing: it
makes a man a coward: a man cannot steal, but it
accuseth him; he cannot swear, but it cheques him;
detects him: 'tis a blushing shamefast spirit that
mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of
obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold
that I found; it beggars any man that keeps it: it
is turned out of all towns and cities for a
dangerous thing; and every man that means to live
well endeavours to trust to himself and to live
without it.
First Murderer:
'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, persuading me
not to kill the duke.
Second Murderer:
Take the devil in thy mind, and relieve him not: he
would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh.
First Murderer:
Tut, I am strong-framed, he cannot prevail with me,
I warrant thee.
Second Murderer:
Spoke like a tail fellow that respects his
reputation. |
Come, shall we to this gear?
First Murderer:
Take him over the costard with the hilts of thy
sword, and then we will chop him in the malmsey-butt
in the next room.
Second Murderer:
O excellent devise! make a sop of him.
First Murderer:
Hark! he stirs: shall I strike?
Second Murderer:
No, first let's reason with him.
CLARENCE:
Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup of wine.
Second murderer:
You shall have wine enough, my lord, anon.
CLARENCE:
Come, shall we to this gear?
First Murderer:
Take him over the costard with the hilts of thy
sword, and then we will chop him in the malmsey-butt
in the next room.
Second Murderer:
O excellent devise! make a sop of him.
First Murderer:
Hark! he stirs: shall I strike?
Second Murderer:
No, first let's reason with him.
CLARENCE:
Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup of wine.
Second murderer:
You shall have wine enough, my lord, anon.
In God's name, what art thou?
Second Murderer:
A man, as you are.
CLARENCE:
But not, as I am, royal.
Second Murderer:
Nor you, as we are, loyal.
CLARENCE:
Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble.
Second Murderer:
My voice is now the king's, my looks mine own.
CLARENCE:
How darkly and how deadly dost thou speak!
Your eyes do menace me: why look you pale?
Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come?
Both:
To, to, to--
CLARENCE:
To murder me?
Both:
Ay, ay.
CLARENCE:
You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so,
And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it.
Wherein, my friends, have I offended you?
First Murderer:
Offended us you have not, but the king.
CLARENCE:
I shall be reconciled to him again.
Second Murderer:
Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die.
CLARENCE:
Are you call'd forth from out a world of men
To slay the innocent? What is my offence?
Where are the evidence that do accuse me?
What lawful quest have given their verdict up
Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounced
The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death?
Before I be convict by course of law,
To threaten me with death is most unlawful.
I charge you, as you hope to have redemption
By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins,
That you depart and lay no hands on me
The deed you undertake is damnable.
First Murderer:
What we will do, we do upon command.
Second Murderer:
And he that hath commanded is the king.
CLARENCE:
Erroneous vassal! the great King of kings
Hath in the tables of his law commanded
That thou shalt do no murder: and wilt thou, then,
Spurn at his edict and fulfil a man's?
Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hands,
To hurl upon their heads that break his law.
Second Murderer:
And that same vengeance doth he hurl on thee,
For false forswearing and for murder too:
Thou didst receive the holy sacrament,
To fight in quarrel of the house of Lancaster.
First Murderer:
And, like a traitor to the name of God,
Didst break that vow; and with thy treacherous blade
Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son.
Second Murderer:
Whom thou wert sworn to cherish and defend.
First Murderer:
How canst thou urge God's dreadful law to us, |
When thou hast broke it in so dear degree?
CLARENCE:
Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed?
For Edward, for my brother, for his sake: Why, sirs,
He sends ye not to murder me for this
For in this sin he is as deep as I.
If God will be revenged for this deed.
O, know you yet, he doth it publicly,
Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm;
He needs no indirect nor lawless course
To cut off those that have offended him.
First Murderer:
Who made thee, then, a bloody minister,
When gallant-springing brave Plantagenet,
That princely novice, was struck dead by thee?
CLARENCE:
My brother's love, the devil, and my rage.
First Murderer:
Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy fault,
Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee.
CLARENCE:
Oh, if you love my brother, hate not me;
I am his brother, and I love him well.
If you be hired for meed, go back again,
And I will send you to my brother Gloucester,
Who shall reward you better for my life
Than Edward will for tidings of my death.
Second Murderer:
You are deceived, your brother Gloucester hates you.
CLARENCE:
O, no, he loves me, and he holds me dear:
Go you to him from me.
Both:
Ay, so we will.
CLARENCE:
Tell him, when that our princely father York
Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm,
And charged us from his soul to love each other,
He little thought of this divided friendship:
Bid Gloucester think of this, and he will weep.
First Murderer:
Ay, millstones; as be lesson'd us to weep.
CLARENCE:
O, do not slander him, for he is kind.
First Murderer:
Right,
As snow in harvest. |
Thou deceivest thyself:
'Tis he that sent us hither now to slaughter thee.
CLARENCE:
It cannot be; for when I parted with him,
He hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs,
That he would labour my delivery.
Second Murderer:
Why, so he doth, now he delivers thee
From this world's thraldom to the joys of heaven.
First Murderer:
Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord.
CLARENCE:
Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul,
To counsel me to make my peace with God,
And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind,
That thou wilt war with God by murdering me?
Ah, sirs, consider, he that set you on
To do this deed will hate you for the deed.
Second Murderer:
What shall we do?
CLARENCE:
Relent, and save your souls.
First Murderer:
Relent! 'tis cowardly and womanish.
CLARENCE:
Not to relent is beastly, savage, devilish.
Which of you, if you were a prince's son,
Being pent from liberty, as I am now,
if two such murderers as yourselves came to you,
Would not entreat for life?
My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks:
O, if thine eye be not a flatterer,
Come thou on my side, and entreat for me,
As you would beg, were you in my distress
A begging prince what beggar pities not?
Second Murderer:
Look behind you, my lord.
First Murderer:
Take that, and that: if all this will not do,
I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within.
Second Murderer:
A bloody deed, and desperately dispatch'd!
How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands
Of this most grievous guilty murder done!
First Murderer:
How now! what mean'st thou, that thou help'st me not? |
Thou deceivest thyself:
'Tis he that sent us hither now to slaughter thee.
CLARENCE:
It cannot be; for when I parted with him,
He hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs,
That he would labour my delivery.
Second Murderer:
Why, so he doth, now he delivers thee
From this world's thraldom to the joys of heaven.
First Murderer:
Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord.
CLARENCE:
Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul,
To counsel me to make my peace with God,
And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind,
That thou wilt war with God by murdering me?
Ah, sirs, consider, he that set you on
To do this deed will hate you for the deed.
Second Murderer:
What shall we do?
CLARENCE:
Relent, and save your souls.
First Murderer:
Relent! 'tis cowardly and womanish.
CLARENCE:
Not to relent is beastly, savage, devilish.
Which of you, if you were a prince's son,
Being pent from liberty, as I am now,
if two such murderers as yourselves came to you,
Would not entreat for life?
My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks:
O, if thine eye be not a flatterer,
Come thou on my side, and entreat for me,
As you would beg, were you in my distress
A begging prince what beggar pities not?
Second Murderer:
Look behind you, my lord.
First Murderer:
Take that, and that: if all this will not do,
I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within.
Second Murderer:
A bloody deed, and desperately dispatch'd!
How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands
Of this most grievous guilty murder done!
First Murderer:
By heavens, the duke shall know how slack thou art!
Second Murderer:
I would he knew that I had saved his brother!
Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say;
For I repent me that the duke is slain.
First Murderer:
So do not I: go, coward as thou art.
Now must I hide his body in some hole,
Until the duke take order for his burial:
And when I have my meed, I must away;
For this will out, and here I must not stay.
KING EDWARD IV:
Why, so: now have I done a good day's work:
You peers, continue this united league:
I every day expect an embassage
From my Redeemer to redeem me hence;
And now in peace my soul shall part to heaven,
Since I have set my friends at peace on earth.
Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand;
Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love.
RIVERS:
By heaven, my heart is purged from grudging hate:
And with my hand I seal my true heart's love.
HASTINGS:
So thrive I, as I truly swear the like!
KING EDWARD IV:
Take heed you dally not before your king;
Lest he that is the supreme King of kings
Confound your hidden falsehood, and award
Either of you to be the other's end.
HASTINGS:
So prosper I, as I swear perfect love!
RIVERS:
And I, as I love Hastings with my heart!
KING EDWARD IV:
Madam, yourself are not exempt in this,
Nor your son Dorset, Buckingham, nor you;
You have been factious one against the other,
Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand;
And what you do, do it unfeignedly.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
Here, Hastings; I will never more remember
Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine! |
KING EDWARD IV:
Dorset, embrace him; Hastings, love lord marquess.
DORSET:
This interchange of love, I here protest,
Upon my part shall be unviolable.
HASTINGS:
And so swear I, my lord
KING EDWARD IV:
Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league
With thy embracements to my wife's allies,
And make me happy in your unity.
BUCKINGHAM:
Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate
On you or yours,
but with all duteous love
Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me
With hate in those where I expect most love!
When I have most need to employ a friend,
And most assured that he is a friend
Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile,
Be he unto me! this do I beg of God,
When I am cold in zeal to yours.
KING EDWARD IV:
A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham,
is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.
There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here,
To make the perfect period of this peace.
BUCKINGHAM:
And, in good time, here comes the noble duke.
GLOUCESTER:
Good morrow to my sovereign king and queen:
And, princely peers, a happy time of day!
KING EDWARD IV:
Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day.
Brother, we done deeds of charity;
Made peace enmity, fair love of hate,
Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.
GLOUCESTER:
A blessed labour, my most sovereign liege:
Amongst this princely heap, if any here,
By false intelligence, or wrong surmise,
Hold me a foe;
If I unwittingly, or in my rage,
Have aught committed that is hardly borne
By any in this presence, I desire
To reconcile me to his friendly peace:
'Tis death to me to be at enmity;
I hate it, and desire all good men's love.
First, madam, I entreat true peace of you,
Which I will purchase with my duteous service;
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,
If ever any grudge were lodged between us;
Of you, Lord Rivers, and, Lord Grey, of you;
That without desert have frown'd on me;
Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen; indeed, of all.
I do not know that Englishman alive
With whom my soul is any jot at odds
More than the infant that is born to-night
I thank my God for my humility.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
A holy day shall this be kept hereafter:
I would to God all strifes were well compounded.
My sovereign liege, I do beseech your majesty
To take our brother Clarence to your grace.
GLOUCESTER:
Why, madam, have I offer'd love for this
To be so bouted in this royal presence?
Who knows not that the noble duke is dead?
You do him injury to scorn his corse.
RIVERS:
Who knows not he is dead! who knows he is?
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
All seeing heaven, what a world is this!
BUCKINGHAM:
Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest?
DORSET:
Ay, my good lord; and no one in this presence
But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.
KING EDWARD IV:
Is Clarence dead? the order was reversed.
GLOUCESTER:
But he, poor soul, by your first order died,
And that a winged Mercury did bear:
Some tardy cripple bore the countermand,
That came too lag to see him buried.
God grant that some, less noble and less loyal,
Nearer in bloody thoughts, but not in blood,
Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,
And yet go current from suspicion!
DORSET: |
A boon, my sovereign, for my service done!
KING EDWARD IV:
I pray thee, peace: my soul is full of sorrow.
DORSET:
I will not rise, unless your highness grant.
KING EDWARD IV:
Then speak at once what is it thou demand'st.
DORSET:
The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life;
Who slew to-day a righteous gentleman
Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk.
KING EDWARD IV:
Have a tongue to doom my brother's death,
And shall the same give pardon to a slave?
My brother slew no man; his fault was thought,
And yet his punishment was cruel death.
Who sued to me for him? who, in my rage,
Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advised
Who spake of brotherhood? who spake of love?
Who told me how the poor soul did forsake
The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me?
Who told me, in the field by Tewksbury
When Oxford had me down, he rescued me,
And said, 'Dear brother, live, and be a king'?
Who told me, when we both lay in the field
Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me
Even in his own garments, and gave himself,
All thin and naked, to the numb cold night?
All this from my remembrance brutish wrath
Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you
Had so much grace to put it in my mind.
But when your carters or your waiting-vassals
Have done a drunken slaughter, and defaced
The precious image of our dear Redeemer,
You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon;
And I unjustly too, must grant it you
But for my brother not a man would speak,
Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself
For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all
Have been beholding to him in his life;
Yet none of you would once plead for his life.
O God, I fear thy justice will take hold
On me, and you, and mine, and yours for this!
Come, Hastings, help me to my closet.
Oh, poor Clarence!
GLOUCESTER:
This is the fruit of rashness! Mark'd you not
How that the guilty kindred of the queen
Look'd pale when they did hear of Clarence' death?
O, they did urge it still unto the king!
God will revenge it. |
But come, let us in,
To comfort Edward with our company.
BUCKINGHAM:
We wait upon your grace.
Boy:
Tell me, good grandam, is our father dead?
DUCHESS OF YORK:
No, boy.
Boy:
Why do you wring your hands, and beat your breast,
And cry 'O Clarence, my unhappy son!'
Girl:
Why do you look on us, and shake your head,
And call us wretches, orphans, castaways
If that our noble father be alive?
DUCHESS OF YORK:
My pretty cousins, you mistake me much;
I do lament the sickness of the king.
As loath to lose him, not your father's death;
It were lost sorrow to wail one that's lost.
Boy:
Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead.
The king my uncle is to blame for this:
God will revenge it; whom I will importune
With daily prayers all to that effect.
Girl:
And so will I.
DUCHESS OF YORK:
Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well:
Incapable and shallow innocents,
You cannot guess who caused your father's death.
Boy:
Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloucester
Told me, the king, provoked by the queen,
Devised impeachments to imprison him :
And when my uncle told me so, he wept,
And hugg'd me in his arm, and kindly kiss'd my cheek;
Bade me rely on him as on my father,
But come, let us in,
To comfort Edward with our company.
BUCKINGHAM:
We wait upon your grace.
Boy:
Tell me, good grandam, is our father dead?
DUCHESS OF YORK:
No, boy.
Boy:
Why do you wring your hands, and beat your breast,
And cry 'O Clarence, my unhappy son!'
Girl:
Why do you look on us, and shake your head,
And call us wretches, orphans, castaways
If that our noble father be alive?
DUCHESS OF YORK:
My pretty cousins, you mistake me much;
I do lament the sickness of the king.
As loath to lose him, not your father's death;
It were lost sorrow to wail one that's lost.
Boy:
Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead.
The king my uncle is to blame for this:
God will revenge it; whom I will importune
With daily prayers all to that effect.
Girl:
And so will I.
DUCHESS OF YORK:
Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well:
Incapable and shallow innocents,
You cannot guess who caused your father's death.
Boy:
Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloucester
Told me, the king, provoked by the queen,
Devised impeachments to imprison him :
And when my uncle told me so, he wept,
And hugg'd me in his arm, and kindly kiss'd my cheek;
And he would love me dearly as his child.
DUCHESS OF YORK:
Oh, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes,
And with a virtuous vizard hide foul guile!
He is my son; yea, and therein my shame;
Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit.
Boy:
Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam?
DUCHESS OF YORK:
Ay, boy.
Boy:
I cannot think it. |
Hark! what noise is this?
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
Oh, who shall hinder me to wail and weep,
To chide my fortune, and torment myself?
I'll join with black despair against my soul,
And to myself become an enemy.
DUCHESS OF YORK:
What means this scene of rude impatience?
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
Hark! what noise is this?
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
Oh, who shall hinder me to wail and weep,
To chide my fortune, and torment myself?
I'll join with black despair against my soul,
And to myself become an enemy.
DUCHESS OF YORK:
What means this scene of rude impatience?
To make an act of tragic violence:
Edward, my lord, your son, our king, is dead.
Why grow the branches now the root is wither'd?
Why wither not the leaves the sap being gone?
If you will live, lament; if die, be brief,
That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's;
Or, like obedient subjects, follow him
To his new kingdom of perpetual rest.
DUCHESS OF YORK:
Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow
As I had title in thy noble husband!
I have bewept a worthy husband's death,
And lived by looking on his images:
But now two mirrors of his princely semblance
Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death,
And I for comfort have but one false glass,
Which grieves me when I see my shame in him.
Thou art a widow; yet thou art a mother,
And hast the comfort of thy children left thee:
But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine arms,
And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble limbs,
Edward and Clarence. |
O, what cause have I,
Thine being but a moiety of my grief,
To overgo thy plaints and drown thy cries!
Boy:
Good aunt, you wept not for our father's death;
How can we aid you with our kindred tears?
Girl:
Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd;
Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept!
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
Give me no help in lamentation;
I am not barren to bring forth complaints
All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
That I, being govern'd by the watery moon,
May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world!
Oh for my husband, for my dear lord Edward!
Children:
Oh for our father, for our dear lord Clarence!
DUCHESS OF YORK:
Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence!
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
What stay had I but Edward? and he's gone.
Children:
What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone.
DUCHESS OF YORK:
What stays had I but they? and they are gone.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
Was never widow had so dear a loss!
Children:
Were never orphans had so dear a loss!
DUCHESS OF YORK:
Was never mother had so dear a loss!
Alas, I am the mother of these moans!
Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general.
She for an Edward weeps, and so do I;
I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she:
These babes for Clarence weep and so do I;
I for an Edward weep, so do not they:
Alas, you three, on me, threefold distress'd,
Pour all your tears! I am your sorrow's nurse,
And I will pamper it with lamentations.
DORSET:
Comfort, dear mother: God is much displeased
That you take with unthankfulness, his doing:
In common worldly things, 'tis call'd ungrateful,
With dull unwilligness to repay a debt
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; |
O, what cause have I,
Thine being but a moiety of my grief,
To overgo thy plaints and drown thy cries!
Boy:
Good aunt, you wept not for our father's death;
How can we aid you with our kindred tears?
Girl:
Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd;
Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept!
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
Give me no help in lamentation;
I am not barren to bring forth complaints
All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
That I, being govern'd by the watery moon,
May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world!
Oh for my husband, for my dear lord Edward!
Children:
Oh for our father, for our dear lord Clarence!
DUCHESS OF YORK:
Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence!
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
What stay had I but Edward? and he's gone.
Children:
What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone.
DUCHESS OF YORK:
What stays had I but they? and they are gone.
QUEEN ELIZABETH:
Was never widow had so dear a loss!
Children:
Were never orphans had so dear a loss!
DUCHESS OF YORK:
Was never mother had so dear a loss!
Alas, I am the mother of these moans!
Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general.
She for an Edward weeps, and so do I;
I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she:
These babes for Clarence weep and so do I;
I for an Edward weep, so do not they:
Alas, you three, on me, threefold distress'd,
Pour all your tears! I am your sorrow's nurse,
And I will pamper it with lamentations.
DORSET:
Comfort, dear mother: God is much displeased
That you take with unthankfulness, his doing:
In common worldly things, 'tis call'd ungrateful,
With dull unwilligness to repay a debt
Much more to be thus opposite with heaven,
For it requires the royal debt it lent you.
RIVERS:
Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother,
Of the young prince your son: send straight for him
Let him be crown'd; in him your comfort lives:
Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave,
And plant your joys in living Edward's throne.
GLOUCESTER:
Madam, have comfort: all of us have cause
To wail the dimming of our shining star;
But none can cure their harms by wailing them.
Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy;
I did not see your grace: humbly on my knee
I crave your blessing.
DUCHESS OF YORK:
God bless thee; and put meekness in thy mind,
Love, charity, obedience, and true duty!
GLOUCESTER:
BUCKINGHAM:
You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers,
That bear this mutual heavy load of moan,
Now cheer each other in each other's love
Though we have spent our harvest of this king,
We are to reap the harvest of his son.
The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts,
But lately splinter'd, knit, and join'd together,
Must gently be preserved, cherish'd, and kept:
Me seemeth good, that, with some little train,
Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd
Hither to London, to be crown'd our king.
RIVERS:
Why with some little train, my Lord of Buckingham?
BUCKINGHAM:
Marry, my lord, lest, by a multitude,
The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out,
Which would be so much the more dangerous |