Coriolanus Part 11

CORIOLa.n.u.s. Must I go show them my unbarb'd sconce? Must I With my base tongue give to my n.o.ble 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 th' market-place!

You have put me now to such a part which never I shall discharge to th' 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.

CORIOLa.n.u.s. Well, I must do't.

Away, my disposition, and possess me Some harlot's spirit! My throat of war be turn'd, Which quier'd 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 gla.s.ses 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 receiv'd 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.

CORIOLa.n.u.s. 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 belov'd 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' th' way of flattery further.

VOLUMNIA. Do your will. Exit COMINIUS. Away! The tribunes do attend you. Arm yourself To answer mildly; for they are prepar'd With accusations, as I hear, more strong Than are upon you yet.

CORIOLa.n.u.s. 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.

CORIOLa.n.u.s. Well, mildly be it then- mildly. Exeunt

SCENE III.

Rome. The Forum

Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS

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.

Enter an AEDILE

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 procur'd, Set down by th' poll?

AEDILE. I have; 'tis ready.

SICINIUS. Have you collected them by tribes?

AEDILE. I have.

SICINIUS. a.s.semble presently the people hither; And when they hear me say 'It shall be so I' th' right and strength o' th' 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' th' truth o' th' cause.

AEDILE. I shall inform them.

BRUTUS. And when such time they have begun to cry, Let them not cease, but with a din confus'd 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. Exit AEDILE Put him to choler straight. He hath been us'd Ever to conquer, and to have his worth Of contradiction; being once chaf'd, 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.

Enter CORIOLa.n.u.s, MENENIUS and COMINIUS, with others

SICINIUS. Well, here he comes.

MENENIUS. Calmly, I do beseech you.

CORIOLa.n.u.s. Ay, as an ostler, that for th' poorest piece Will bear the knave by th' volume. Th' honour'd G.o.ds 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 n.o.ble wish.

Re-enter the AEDILE,with the plebeians

SICINIUS. Draw near, ye people.

AEDILE. List to your tribunes. Audience! peace, I say!

CORIOLa.n.u.s. First, hear me speak.

BOTH TRIBUNES. Well, say. Peace, ho!

CORIOLa.n.u.s. Shall I be charg'd 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 prov'd upon you.

CORIOLa.n.u.s. 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' th' holy churchyard.

CORIOLa.n.u.s. Scratches with briers, Scars to move laughter only.

MENENIUS. 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.

CORIOLa.n.u.s. What is the matter, That being pa.s.s'd for consul with full voice, I am so dishonour'd that the very hour You take it off again?

SICINIUS. Answer to us.

CORIOLa.n.u.s. Say then; 'tis true, I ought so.

SICINIUS. We charge you that you have contriv'd 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.

CORIOLa.n.u.s. How- traitor?

MENENIUS. Nay, temperately! Your promise.

CORIOLa.n.u.s. The fires i' th' lowest h.e.l.l fold in the people!

Call me their traitor! Thou injurious tribune!

Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, In thy hands 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 G.o.ds.

SICINIUS. Mark you this, people?

PLEBEIANS. To th' rock, to th' 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 th' extremest death.

BRUTUS. But since he hath Serv'd well for Rome- CORIOLa.n.u.s. What do you prate of service?

BRUTUS. I talk of that that know it.

CORIOLa.n.u.s. You!

MENENIUS. Is this the promise that you made your mother?

COMINIUS. Know, I pray you- CORIOLa.n.u.s. I'll know no further.

Let them p.r.o.nounce the steep Tarpeian death, Vagabond exile, flaying, pent to linger But with a grain a day, I would not buy Their mercy at the price of one fair word, Nor check 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' th' people, And in the power of us the tribunes, we, Ev'n from this instant, banish him our city, In peril of precipitation From off the rock Tarpeian, never more To enter our Rome gates. I' th' people's name, I say it shall be so.

PLEBEIANS. 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 sentenc'd; 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.

PLEBEIANS. It shall be so, it shall be so.

CORIOLa.n.u.s. You common cry of curs, whose breath I hate As reek o' th' rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carca.s.ses of unburied men That do corrupt my air- I banish you.