William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (498 page)
Read William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition Online
Authors: William Shakespeare
Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare
BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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MARTIUS
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.
When she does praise me grieves me. I have done
As you have done, that’s what I can; induced
As you have been, that’s for my country.
He that has but effected his good will
Hath overta’en mine act.
COMINIUS
You shall not be
The grave of your deserving. Rome must know
The value of her own. ’Twere a concealment
Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement,
To hide your doings and to silence that
Which, to the spire and top of praises vouched,
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.
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 vouched,
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.
MARTIUS
I have some wounds upon me, and they smart
To hear themselves remembered.
To hear themselves remembered.
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.
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.
MARTIUS
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 upheld the doing.
May these same instruments which you profane
Never sound more. When drums and trumpets shall
I’th’ 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
An overture for th’ wars. No more, I say.
For that I have not washed my nose that bled,
Or foiled 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.
A bribe to pay my sword. I do refuse it,
And stand upon my common part with those
That have upheld the doing.
A long flourish. They all cry
‘Martius,
Martius!’, casting up their caps and lances. Cominius and Lartius stand bare
Never sound more. When drums and trumpets shall
I’th’ 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
An overture for th’ wars. No more, I say.
For that I have not washed my nose that bled,
Or foiled 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 Martius
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 Corioles, call him,
With all th’applause and clamour of the host,
Martius Caius Coriolanus. Bear th’addition
Nobly ever!
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 Martius
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 Corioles, call him,
With all th’applause and clamour of the host,
Martius Caius Coriolanus. Bear th’addition
Nobly ever!
Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums
ALL Martius Caius Coriolanus!
CORIOLANUS (
to Cominius
) I will go wash,
to Cominius
) 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 th’ fairness of my power.
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 th’ 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 Corioles back. Send us to Rome
The best, with whom we may articulate
For their own good and ours.
To Rome of our success. You, Titus Lartius,
Must to Corioles 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.
Of my lord general.
COMINIUS
Take‘t, ’tis yours. What is’t?
CORIOLANUS
I sometime lay here in Corioles,
And at a poor man’s house. He used me kindly.
He cried to me; I saw him prisoner;
But then Aufidius was within my view,
And wrath o’erwhelmed my pity. I request you
To give my poor host freedom.
And at a poor man’s house. He used me kindly.
He cried to me; I saw him prisoner;
But then Aufidius was within my view,
And wrath o’erwhelmed my pity. I request you
To give my poor host freedom.
COMINIUS
O, well begged!
Were he the butcher of my son he should
Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus.
Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus.
LARTIUS
Martius, his name?
CORIOLANUS By Jupiter, forgot!
I am weary, yea, my memory is tired.
Have we no wine here?
Have we no wine here?
COMINIUS
Go we to our tent.
The blood upon your visage dries; ’tis time
It should be looked to. Come.
It should be looked to. Come.
⌈
A flourish of cornetts.
⌉
Exeunt
Enter Aufidius, bloody, with two or three Soldiers
AUFIDIUS The town is ta’en.
A SOLDIER
’Twill be delivered back on good condition.
AUFIDIUS Condition?
I would I were a Roman, for I cannot,
Being a Volsce, be that I am. Condition?
What good condition can a treaty find
I‘th’ part that is at mercy? Five times, Martius,
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 th’ 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.
Being a Volsce, be that I am. Condition?
What good condition can a treaty find
I‘th’ part that is at mercy? Five times, Martius,
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 th’ 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.
A SOLDIER
He’s the devil.
AUFIDIUS
Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour, poisoned
With only suff‘ring 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—
Embargements all of fury—shall lift up
Their rotten privilege and custom ’gainst
My hate to Martius. 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 th’ city.
Learn how ’tis held, and what they are that must
Be hostages for Rome.
With only suff‘ring 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—
Embargements all of fury—shall lift up
Their rotten privilege and custom ’gainst
My hate to Martius. 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 th’ city.
Learn how ’tis held, and what they are that must
Be hostages for Rome.
A 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.
’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.
A SOLDIER
I shall, sir.
Exeunt
⌈
Aufidius at one door, Soldiers at another door
⌉
⌈
Aufidius at one door, Soldiers at another door
⌉
Enter Menenius with the two tribunes of the people, Sicinius and Brutus
MENENIUS The augurer tells me we shall have news tonight.
BRUTUS Good or bad?
MENENIUS Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Martius.
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 Martius.
BRUTUS He’s a lamb indeed that baas like a bear.
MENENIUS He’s a bear indeed that lives like a lamb. You two are old men. Tell me one thing that I shall ask you.
SICINIUS
and
BRUTUS Well, sir?
and
BRUTUS Well, sir?
MENENIUS In what enormity is Martius poor in that you two have not in abundance?
BRUTUS He’s poor in no one fault, but stored with all. SICINIUS Especially in pride.
BRUTUS And topping all others in boasting.
MENENIUS This is strange now. Do you two know how you are censured here in the city—I mean of us o’th’ right-hand file. Do you?
SICINIUS and BRUTUS Why, how are we censured?
MENENIUS Because—you talk of pride now—will you not be angry?
SICINIUS
and
BRUTUS Well, well, sir, well?
and
BRUTUS 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 Martius 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!
SICINIUS and 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 cannot say your worships have delivered the matter well, when I find the ass in compound with the major part of your syllables. And though I must be content to bear with those that say you are reverend grave men, yet they lie deadly that tell you have good faces. If you see this in the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known well enough too? What harm can your bisson conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too?
BRUTUS Come, sir, come, we know you well enough.
MENENIUS You know neither me, yourselves, nor anything. You are ambitious for poor knaves’ caps and legs. You wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and a faucet-seller, and then rejourn the controversy of threepence to a second day of audience. When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you chance to be 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 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 ‘Martius is proud’, who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors since Deucalion, though peradventure some of the best of ‘em were hereditary hangmen. Good e’en 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.
He leaves Brutus and Sicinius, who stand aside.
Enter in haste Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria
How now, my as fair as noble ladies—and the moon,
were she earthly, no nobler—whither do you follow
your eyes so fast?
were she earthly, no nobler—whither do you follow
your eyes so fast?
VOLUMNIA Honourable Menenius, my boy Martius approaches. For the love of Juno, let’s go.
MENENIUS Ha, Martius coming home? 100
VOLUMNIA Ay, worthy Menenius, and with most prosperous approbation.
MENENIUS ⌈
throwing up his cap
⌉ Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee! Hoo, Martius coming home?
throwing up his cap
⌉ Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee! Hoo, Martius coming home?
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