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_ ACT II. SCENE I.
Rome. A public place.
[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 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 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.
BOTH TRIBUNES.
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 stor'd 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?
BOTH TRIBUNES.
Why, how are we censur'd?
MENENIUS.
Because you talk of pride now- will you not be angry?
BOTH TRIBUNES.
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!
BOTH TRIBUNES.
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 deliver'd 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 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 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 threepence to a second day
of audience. When you are hearing a matter
between party and party, if you chance to be pinch'd 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 entomb'd in an ass's
pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying Marcius 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. 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.
[BRUTUS and SICINIUS go aside.]
[Enter 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?
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, VIRGILIA.
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 to-night. 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 disciplin'd 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 stay'd by him, I would not have been so fidius'd
for all the chests in Corioli and the gold that's in them.
Is the Senate possess'd 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, waw.
MENENIUS.
True! I'll be sworn they are true. Where is he wounded?
[To the TRIBUNES]
God save your good worships! Marcius is coming
home; he has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded?
VOLUMNIA.
I' th' shoulder and i' th' 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' th' body.
MENENIUS.
One i' th' neck and two i' th' 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.
[A shout and flourish]
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 advanc'd, declines, and then men die.
[A sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter COMINIUS the
GENERAL, and TITUS LARTIUS; between them,
CORIOLANUS, crown'd with an oaken garland; with
CAPTAINS and soldiers and a HERALD.]
HERALD.
Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight
Within Corioli gates, where he hath won,
With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these
In honour follows Coriolanus.
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!
[Flourish]
ALL.
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!
CORIOLANUS.
No more of this, it does offend my heart.
Pray now, no more.
COMINIUS.
Look, sir, your mother!
CORIOLANUS.
O,
You have, I know, petition'd all the gods
For my prosperity!
[Kneels]
VOLUMNIA.
Nay, my good soldier, up;
My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and
By deed-achieving honour newly nam'd-
What is it? Coriolanus must I 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? Ah, my dear,
Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear,
And mothers that lack sons.
MENENIUS.
Now the gods crown thee!
CORIOLANUS.
And live you yet?
[To VALERIA]
O my sweet lady, pardon.
VOLUMNIA.
I know not where to turn.
O, welcome home! And welcome, General.
And y'are welcome all.
MENENIUS.
A hundred thousand welcomes. I could weep
And I could laugh; I am light and heavy. Welcome!
A curse begin at very root on's heart
That is not glad to see thee! You are three
That Rome should dote on; yet, by the faith of men,
We have some old crab trees here at home that will not
Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors.
We call a nettle but a nettle, and
The faults of fools but folly.
COMINIUS.
Ever right.
CORIOLANUS.
Menenius ever, ever.
HERALD. Give way there, and go on.
CORIOLANUS.
[To his wife and mother]
Your hand, and yours.
Ere in our own house I do shade my head,
The good patricians must be visited;
From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings,
But with them change of honours.
VOLUMNIA.
I have lived
To see inherited my very wishes,
And the buildings of my fancy; only
There's one thing wanting, which I doubt not but
Our Rome will cast upon thee.
CORIOLANUS.
Know, good mother,
I had rather be their servant in my way
Than sway with them in theirs.
COMINIUS.
On, to the Capitol.
[Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before.]
[BRUTUS and SICINIUS come forward.]
BRUTUS.
All tongues speak of him and the bleared sights
Are spectacled to see him. Your prattling nurse
Into a rapture lets her baby cry
While she chats him; the kitchen malkin pins
Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck,
Clamb'ring the walls to eye him; stalls, bulks, windows,
Are smother'd up, leads fill'd and ridges hors'd
With variable complexions, all agreeing
In earnestness to see him. Seld-shown flamens
Do press among the popular throngs and puff
To win a vulgar station; our veil'd dames
Commit the war of white and damask in
Their nicely gawded cheeks to th' wanton spoil
Of Phoebus' burning kisses. Such a pother,
As if that whatsoever god who leads him
Were slily crept into his human powers,
And gave him graceful posture.
SICINIUS.
On the sudden
I warrant him consul.
BRUTUS.
Then our office may
During his power go sleep.
SICINIUS.
He cannot temp'rately transport his honours
From where he should begin and end, but will
Lose those he hath won.
BRUTUS.
In that there's comfort.
SICINIUS.
Doubt not
The commoners, for whom we stand, but they
Upon their ancient malice will forget
With the least cause these his new honours; which
That he will give them make our as little question
As he is proud to do't.
BRUTUS.
I heard him swear,
Were he to stand for consul, never would he
Appear i' th' market-place, nor on him put
The napless vesture of humility;
Nor, showing, as the manner is, his wounds
To th' people, beg their stinking breaths.
SICINIUS.
'Tis right.
BRUTUS.
It was his word. O, he would miss it rather
Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him
And the desire of the nobles.
SICINIUS.
I wish no better
Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it
In execution.
BRUTUS.
'Tis most like he will.
SICINIUS.
It shall be to him then as our good wills:
A sure destruction.
BRUTUS.
So it must fall out
To him or our authorities. For an end,
We must suggest the people in what hatred
He still hath held them; that to's power he would
Have made them mules, silenc'd their pleaders, and
Dispropertied their freedoms; holding them
In human action and capacity
Of no more soul nor fitness for the world
Than camels in their war, who have their provand
Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows
For sinking under them.
SICINIUS.
This, as you say, suggested
At some time when his soaring insolence
Shall touch the people- which time shall not want,
If he be put upon't, and that's as easy
As to set dogs on sheep- will be his fire
To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze
Shall darken him for ever.
[Enter A MESSENGER.]
BRUTUS.
What's the matter?
MESSENGER.
You are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis thought
That Marcius shall be consul.
I have seen the dumb men throng to see him and
The blind to hear him speak; matrons flung gloves,
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers,
Upon him as he pass'd; the nobles bended
As to Jove's statue, and the commons made
A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts.
I never saw the like.
BRUTUS.
Let's to the Capitol,
And carry with us ears and eyes for th' time,
But hearts for the event.
SICINIUS.
Have with you.
[Exeunt.] _
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