Coriolanus (2019) - full transcript

What's the matter?

You dissentious rogues.

That rubbing the poor

itch of your opinion

make yourself scabs?

He that will give good

words to thee will flatter

beneath abhorring.

He that trust to you where

he should find you lions

finds you hares,

where foxes, geese,

you are no surer, no, than is

the coil of fire upon the ice

or hailstone in the sun.

Who deserves greatness

deserves your hate.

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?

So you all resolved rather

to die than to famish?

Resolved, we

are accounted poor citizens,

the patricians good, what

authority surfeits on

would relieve us, if

they would yield us

but their 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 a reminder to

them of 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.

Would you proceed

especially against Caius Marcius?

Against him first,

he's a very dog to

the common people.

Consider you what services

he has done for his country?

Very well, and

could be content to give him

good report for't, but

that he pays himself...

Nay, but speak

not maliciously.

For being proud,

I saying unto you,

what he has done famously,

he did it to that end.

Those soft conscienced men

could be content to say

he did it for his country,

, he did it

to please his mother and to

be partly proud, which he is

even to the altitude

of his virtue!

What he cannot

help in his nature,

you account a vice in him.

You must in no way

say he is covetous.

He hath faults with surplus

to tire in repetition.

Our business is not

unknown to the Senate.

They have had inkling

this fortnight

what we intend to do which

now will show 'em in deeds.

They say poor suitors

have strong breaths.

They shall know we

have strong arms too.

Why masters, my good friends,

mine honest neighbors.

Why go you with bats and clubs,

will you undo yourselves?

We cannot, sir, we

are undone already.

I tell you friends,

most charitable care

have the patricians of

you, 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

of the state who care

for you like fathers.

When you curse them as enemies.

Care for us! True indeed,

they ne'er cared

for us yet,

suffer us to famish while

their storehouse is crammed

with grain, if the wars

eat us not up, they will.

That's all the

love they bear us.

Either you must confess

yourselves wondrous malicious,

or be accused

of folly.

I will tell you a pretty

tale, maybe you have heard it

but since it serves my

purpose I will venture

to stale it

a little more.

Well, I'll hear it, sir.

You must not think

to fob off our

disgrace with a tale.

There was a time when

all the body's members

rebelled against the

belly, thus accused it.

That only like a gulf it

did remain in the midst

o' the body, idle and

unactive, still cupboarding

the food, never bearing

like labor with the rest,

while 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.

And so the belly

answered,

Well, sir, what

answer made the belly?

Sir, I will tell you

with a kind of smile

for look you, I may make the

belly smile as well as speak.

Your belly's answer? What?

Sir, I will tell you if you'll bestow

a small What could the belly answer?

of what you have little

patience a while.

You're long about it.

Note me this, good friend,

your most grave belly

was deliberate, not

rash, like his accusers

and thus answered.

'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 storehouse and

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,

the seat of the brain?

Aye sir.

Well, well?

Though all at once cannot

see what I do deliver out

to each, I can make my audit

up that all from me do back

receive the flour of all

and leave me but the chap,

what say you to it?

It was an answer.

How apply you this?

The senators of Rome

are this good belly

and you the mutinous members,

for examine their councils

and their cares, digest things

rightly, touching the weal

of the common, and you

shall find no public benefit

which you receive but it

proceeds or comes from them

to you and no way from

yourselves, what think you,

you the great toe

of this assembly?

I the great toe.

Why the great toe?

Well that being the

lowest, basest, poorest

of this most wise rebellion,

thou goest foremost.

What's their seeking?

Corn at their own

rates, whereof they say

the city is well stored.

Hang 'em.

They say.

They'll sit by the fire

and presume to know

what's done in the capitol,

who's like to rise,

who thrives and who declines.

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 quartered slaves

as high as I can pick my lance.

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?

They said they were an

hungry, sighed 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 man only,

with these shreds, they

vented their complainings

which being answered and

a petition granted them,

they threw their cats

as they would hang them

on the horns of the moon,

shouting their emulation.

And what is granted them?

Two tribunes to defend

their vulgar wisdoms

of their own choice, Junius

Brutus and Sicinius Velutus,

'Sdeath.

The rabbles should have

first unroofed the city

ere so prevailed with me.

It will in time win upon

power and throw forth

greater themes for

insurrection's arguing.

Marcius!

This is strange.

'Tis true that you

have lately told us,

the Volsces are in arms.

They have a leader!

Tullus Aufidius that

will put you to it.

I sin in envying his nobility.

And were I anything

but what I am,

I would wish me only he.

You fought together?

Were half to half the

world by the ears

and he upon my party,

I'd revolt

to make my wars

only with him.

He is a lion that

I am proud to hunt.

Then worthy Marcius,

attend upon Cominius

to these wars.

It is your former promise.

Sir, it is.

And I am constant.

Your company to the capitol,

where I know our greatest

friends attend

us, noble Marcius.

Lead you on.

Ah, the Volsces

have much corn, take

these rats thither to gnaw

their garners, worshipful

mutineers, your valor

puts well forth,

pray, follow.

Was ever man so proud

as is this Marcius?

He has no equal.

When we were chosen

tribunes for the people...

Marked you his lip and eyes?

Nay. But his taunts.

Being moved, he will not

spare to gird the gods.

Be-mock the modest moon.

The present wars devour him.

But I do wonder his

insolence can brook

to be commanded under Cominius.

Fame, at the which he

aims in whom already

he's well graced

cannot be better held

nor more attained than by

a place below the first.

For what miscarries shall

be the general's fault,

though he performs to

the utmost of a man

and giddy censure will

then cry out of Marcius,

oh, if he had

borne the business.

And if things go well, opinion

that so sticks on Marcius

shall of his great

merits rob Cominius.

Let's hence and hear

how the dispatch is made

and in what fashion more

than his singularity

he goes upon this

present action.

Let's along.

So your opinion is, Aufidius,

that they of Rome are

entered in our councils

and know how we proceed.

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 from thence,

these are the words.

'They have pressed a power,

but it is not known whether

for east or west.

The dearth is great,

the people mutinous

and it is rumored Cominius,

Marcius, your old

enemy, who is of Rome,

worse hated than of you, these

two lead on this preparation

whither 'tis bent, most

likely tis for you.'

Consider of it.

Our army's in the field,

we never yet made doubt

but Rome was ready to answer us.

Nor did you think it folly

to keep your great pretenses

veiled till when they

needs must show themselves

which in the hatching it

seemed appeared to Rome.

By the discovery, we shall

be shortened in our aim

which was to take in many

towns ere almost Rome

should know we were afoot.

Noble Aufidius, take

your commission.

Hie you to your bands.

Let us alone to

guard Corioles.

If they should set

down before us,

for the remove

bring your army,

but I think you'll find

they've not prepared for us.

Oh, doubt not that, I

speak from certainties.

Nay, more, some parcels of

their power are forth already

and only hitherward.

I leave your honors.

If we and Caius

Marcius chance to meet,

'tis sworn between us

we shall ever strike

til one can do no more.

Gods assist you.

And keep your honors safe.

I pray you, daughter,

sing.

Or express yourself at

a more comfortable sort.

If my son were my husband,

I should freelier

rejoice in that absence

wherein he won honor 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 and treaties,

a mother should not sell him

an hour from her beholding,

I considering how honor

would become such a person,

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.

But had he died in the

business, madam, how then?

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'd

rather have 11 die nobly

for their country than

one voluptuously surfeit

out of action.

Madam, the lady Valeria

is come to visit you.

Beseech you, give me

leave to retire myself

Indeed you shall not.

Tell Valeria we are

fit to bid her welcome.

Methinks I hear hither

your husband's drum.

See him pluck Aufidius

down by the hair.

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.

His bloody brow!

With his gloved hand then

wiping forth he goes.

Like to a harvest man

that's tasked to mow

or all or lose his hire.

Oh, Jupiter, no blood!

Away, you fool!

It more becomes a man

than guilt his trophy.

Heavens bless my Lord

from fell Aufidius.

He'll beat Aufidius'

head below his knee

and tread upon his neck.

My ladies both!

Good day to you.

Sweet madam!

I am glad to see

your ladyship.

How do you both?

You are manifest housekeepers,

what are you sewing here?

Ah, a fine spot, in good faith.

How does your little son?

I thank your ladyship,

well, good madam.

He'd rather see the

swords and hear a drum

than look upon his

school-master.

On my word, the father's son,

I'll swear 'tis a

very pretty boy.

O' my troth, I looked

upon him Wednesday

half an hour together, 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 falls

and up again catched it again.

Whether his fall enraged

him or how it 'twas,

he did so set his

teeth and tear it, oof!

I warranted how he mammocked it!

One on's father's moods.

Indeed, la, tis a noble child.

A crack, madam.

Come, lay aside your

stitchery, I must have you play

the idle housewife

with me this afternoon.

No, good madam, I

will not out of doors.

Not out of doors!

- She shall, she shall!

Indeed no, by your patience,

I'll not over the threshold

till my Lord return

from the wars.

Fa, you confine yourself

most unreasonably.

- I cannot go thither.

You would be another Penelope?

Yet they say all the yarn she

spun in Ulysses's absence

did but fill Ithaca

full of moths.

Come, you should go with us.

No!

Pardon me, indeed

I will not forth.

In truth, la, go with me and

I'll tell you excellent news

of your husband.

Oh, good madam,

there can be none yet.

Verily, I do not jest with you.

There came news

from him last night.

Indeed, madam?

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

and your Lord is set

down before their city,

Corioles, they nothing

doubt prevailing

and to make it brief wars,

this is true on mine honor

and so I pray, go with us.

Give me excuse, good

madam, I will obey you

in everything hereafter.

Well, let her alone,

lady, as she is now,

she will but disease

our better mirth.

Come, good sweet lady.

Prithee, Virgilia, turn

thy solemness out of doors

and go along with us.

No.

At a word, madam,

indeed, I must not.

Shh.

I wish you much mirth.

Fare thee well, then.

I'll fight

with none but thee

for I do hate thee worse

than a promise breaker.

We hate alike.

Not Afric owns a serpent

I abhor more than thy fame

and envy, fix thy foot.

If I should tell thee

o'er this thy day's work,

thould'st not believe thy deeds,

but I'll report it,

where senators shall

mingle tears with smiles,

where great patricians

shall attend and shrug,

in the end admire, off.

When ladies shall be frighted

and gladly quaked, hear more.

Where the dull tribunes that

with the fusty plebeians

hate thine honors shall

say against their hearts

we thank the gods Rome

hath such a soldier.

Pray now, no more!

My mother, who has a

charter to extol her blood,

when she dost 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.

You shall not be the

grave of your deserving.

Rome must know the

value of her own.

I have some wounds

upon me and they smart

to hear themselves remembered.

Well, should they not,

well might they fester

'gainst ingratitude and

tent themselves with death.

Of all the treasure in the

field achieved and city,

we render you a tenth.

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.

No more, I say, for that I have

not washed my nose that bled

or foiled some feeble

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.

Too modest are you.

Therefore be it known,

as to us to all the world

that Caius Marcus wears

this war's garland

and from this time for

what he did before and in

Corioles, call him, with

all the applause and clamor

of the host, Caius

Marcus Coriolanus!

Caius Marcus Coriolanus!

Caius Marcus Coriolanus!

Caius Marcus Coriolanus!

I will go wash, and

when my face is fair,

you shall perceive

whether I blush or no.

Howbeit, I thank you.

The gods begin to mock me,

sir,

I that now refused

most princely gifts

am bound to beg of

my Lord general.

Take it, tis yours, what is't?

I sometimes lay here in

Coriolis 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 overwhelmed my pity.

I request that you give

my poor host freedom.

Well begged, were he

the butcher of my son,

he should be as free as

is the wind, his name?

By Jupiter, forgot.

Easy.

I am weary, yea,

my memory is tired.

Easy, easy.

Hey, hey.

The blood upon your

visage dries, huh?

'Tis time it should

be looked to, come.

Easy, easy, easy, easy.

The town is ta'en.

'Twill be delivered

back on good condition.

Condition!

I would I were a Roman, for

I cannot, being a Volscian,

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 has thou beat me

and wouldst do so again,

I think should we encounter

as often as we eat.

By the elements,

if ere again I meet

him beard to beard,

he's mine or I am his.

Mine emulation hath not

that honor 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.

He's the devil.

Bolder.

Though not so subtle.

My valor's poisoned with only

suffering stained by him.

Where ere I meet him, were

it at home, upon my brother's

guard, even there against

the hospitable canon,

will I wash my fierce

head in his heart.

Go you to the city and

learn how 'tis held.

And what they are that

must be hostages for Rome.

If you're going to

Washington to meet...

...huge win in the

governor's race, at least 13...

Something's bothering you,

and I thought it

must be Blake...

Well, the augurer

tells me

we shall have

news tonight.

Good or bad?

Well, not according to

the prayers of the people

for they love not Marcius.

Nature teaches beasts

to know their friends.

Pray you, who does

the wolf love?

The lamb.

Aye, to devour him, as the

hungry plebeians would

the noble Marcius.

Oh, he's a lamb indeed, that

baes like a bear.

He's a bear indeed

that lives like a lamb.

Tell me, one thing

that I shall ask you.

Well, sir?

- Well, sir?

In what enormity

is Marcius poor in

that you two have

not in abundance?

He's poor in no one fault

but stored with all.

Especially in pride.

And topping all

others in boasting.

Well, this is strange now.

Do you two know how you are

censured here in the city?

I mean, of us of the

right hand file, do you?

Why, how are we censured?

- How are we censured?

Because you talk of

pride now.

Will you not be angry?

Well, sir, well well well.

You blame Marcius

for being proud.

We do it not alone, sir.

I know, you can do

very little alone.

And your

abilities are too infant like

for doing much alone,

oh, you talk of pride, oh

that you could turn your eyes

towards the napes of your

neck and make but an interior

survey of your good

selves, oh, that you could.

What then, sir?

Why, then, you should discover

a brace of unmeriting,

proud, violent, testy

magistrates, alias fools,

as any in Rome.

Menenius, you are

known well enough too.

As I am known to be

a humorous patrician.

One that likes a cup of

hot wine without a drop

of allaying water in it,

one that converses more

with the buttock of the

night than the forehead

of the morning, what I think

I utter and I spend my malice

in my breath, and

though I must be content

to bear with those that

say you are reverend grave

gentlemen, yet they lie deadly

that tell you have good faces.

Oh come, sir, come, we

know you well enough.

You know neither me,

yourselves, nor anything.

Oh, come, come, you

are well known to be

a perfect giber for the table

than a necessary bencher

in the capitol.

Oh, you are a pair of

strange ones, yet you must

be saying Marcius is proud

when a cheap estimation

is worth all your

predecessors since Deucalion,

the best of them,

hereditary hangmans,

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.

Honorable Menenius, my

boy Marcius approaches,

for the love of Juno, let's go!

Ha, Marcius coming home?

Aye, worthy Menenius and with

most prosperous approbation.

Take my cap, Jupiter,

and I thank you,

oh, Marcius coming home.

Nay, 'tis true.

I will make my very

house reel tonight.

Is he wounded?

He was wont to

come home wounded.

Oh, no, no, no.

Oh, he is wounded, I

thank the gods for it.

So do I too, but

be not too much,

brings a victory in his

pocket, the wounds become him.

On his brows, Menenius, he

comes the third time home

with the oaken garland.

Has he disciplined

Aufidius soundly?

They fought together,

but Aufidius got off.

Is the Senate

possessed of this?

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.

In truth, there's wondrous

things spoke of him.

Ay Wondrous, I warrant

you, and not without

his true purchasing.

The gods grant them true!

True!

True, I'll be sworn they are

true, where is he wounded?

In the shoulder

of 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.

Well, there's one in the

neck, two in the thigh,

there's nine that I know of.

He had before this last

expedition 25 wounds upon him.

And now there's 27 and every

gash was an enemy's grave.

God save you, good worships,

Marcius is coming home.

He has more cause to

be proud.

These are the ushers of Marcius.

Before him he carries noise

and behind him he leaves tears,

death, that dark spirit,

its nervy arm doth lie

which being advanced,

declines and then men die.

No more of this,

it does offend my heart,

pray thou, no more!

Look sir, your mother.

Oh, you have, I know

petitioned all the gods

for my prosperity.

My gentle Marcius, worthy

Caius, and thy deed

achieving honor newly

named, what is it?

Coriolanus.

Coriolanus must

I call thee!

But oh, thy wife!

My gracious silence, hail.

Wouldst thou have laughed

had I come coffin'd home,

that weeps to see me triumph?

Aye, my dear, such eyes

the widows in Corioles wear

and mothers that lack sons.

Now the gods crown

thee and live you yet.

Oh, my sweet lady, pardon.

I know not where to turn!

Oh, welcome home!

And welcome General

and you're welcome all!

A hundred thousand welcomes, I

could weep and I could laugh,

I am light and heavy but

well, we have some old

crab trees here at home

that will not be grafted

to your relish, but

welcome, warriors.

We call a nettle

but a nettle

and the faults of

fools but folly.

Ever right,

Menenius, ever right.

Your hand and yours.

Ere in our own house

I do shade my head,

the good patricians

must be visited.

From whom I have received

not only greetings

but with them change of honors.

On to the Capitol!

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.

Know, good mother, I had rather

be their servant in my way

than sway with them in theirs.

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.

All agreeing in

earnestness to see him.

Such a pother, as if

that whosoever God

who leads him were slyly

crept into his human power

and gave him graceful postures.

On the sudden, I

warrant him consul.

Then our office may

during his power go sleep.

He cannot temperately

transport his honors

from where he should

begin and end but will

lose those he hath won.

In that there's comfort.

- Doubt not.

I heard him swear, were

he to stand for consul,

never would he appear in

the marketplace nor showing

as the manner is, his

wounds to the people.

Beg their stinking breaths.

- Tis right.

- It was his word.

- I wish no better

than have him hold that purpose

and to put it in execution.

Tis most like he will.

It shall be to him then

as our good wills

a sure destruction.

So.

It must fall out to him or

our authority for an end.

We must suggest the

people what kind of hatred

he still hath held him, that

to his power he would have

made them mules,

silenced their pleaders

and dispropertied

their freedoms.

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 it

and that's as easy as

to set dogs on sheep

will be as fire to

kindle their dry stubble

and their blaze shall

darken him forever.

What's the matter?

You are sent for to the capitol.

'Tis thought that

Marcius shall be consul.

Come, come,

they are almost here.

How many stand for consulship?

Three, they say,

but 'tis thought of everyone

Coriolanus will carry it.

That's a brave fellow,

but he's vengeance proud

and loves not the common people.

Faith.

There had been many great men

that had 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,

manifest the true knowledge

he has in their disposition

and out of his

noble carelessness

lets them

plainly see it.

But he seeks their hate

with a greater devotion

than they can

render it him.

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.

He hath deserved

worthily of his country,

to report otherwise

were a malice.

No more of him,

he is a worthy man.

Make way,

they are coming.

No.

Having determined

of the Volsces,

it remains as the main point

in this our after-meeting

to gratify his noble

services that are thus stood

for our country, therefore,

please you most reverend

and grave elders, to

desire the present consul

and last general in our

well-found successes

to report a little

of that worthy work

performed by Caius

Marcus Coriolanus

whom we have met here both

to thank and remember

with honors like himself.

Masters o' the people, we

do request your kindest ears

and after your loving motion

towards the common people

to yield what passes here,

speak, good Cominius.

We have hearts

inclinable to honor

and advance the theme

of our assembly.

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.

That's off, that's

off, I would you rather

to have been silent, please

you to hear Cominius speak?

Most willingly but yet my

caution was more pertinent

than the rebuke you give it.

He loves your people, but tie

him not to be their bedfellow.

Speak, worthy Cominius.

Sit, Coriolanus,

never shame to hear

what you have nobly done.

Your honor's pardon, I'd

rather have my wounds

to heal again than hear

say how I got them.

Sir, I hope my words

disbenched you not.

No sir, yet oft when

blows have made me stay,

I fled from words, you flatter

not, therefore hurt not,

but for your people, I

love them as they weigh.

Pray you sit down.

- I'd rather have one

scratch my head in the sun

when the alarum were struck

than idly sit to hear

my nothings monster'd.

Proceed, Cominius.

Whoo.

I shall lack voice.

The deeds of Coriolanus

should not be uttered feebly.

It is held that valor

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 16 years, he fought

beyond the marks of others.

In that day's feat when

he might act the woman

in the scene, he proved

best man in the field.

Seriously?

His pupil age man entered thus.

He waxed like a sea,

and in the brunt of

seventeen battles since,

he lurched all swords

of the garland.

For this last, before

and in Corioles,

let me say, well,

I cannot speak him home.

He stopped the fliers

and by his rare example

made the coward turn

terror into sport

as weeds before a

vessel under sail,

so men obeyed and

fell below his stem.

From face to foot he

was a thing of blood.

Whose every motion was

timed with dying cries,

alone, he entered the

mortal gate of the city

and with a sudden

reinforcement struck Corioles

like a planet and til we called

both city and field ours

he never stood to ease

his breath with panting.

Worthy man!

He cannot but with

measure fit the honors

which we devise him.

Our spoils he kicked at,

looked upon things precious

as if 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.

The Senate, Coriolanus,

are well pleased

to name thee consul!

I do beseech you, let

me overleap this custom.

Oh, sir, you are not

right, have you not known

the worthiest men

have done it.

What must I say?

I pray, sir, plague upon

it, 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 roared

and ran from the noise

of her own drums.

Oh me, the gods, you

must not speak of that.

You must desire them

to think upon you.

Think upon me?

Hang 'em, I would

they would forget me.

You'll mar all, I'll

leave you, I pray you,

speak with them, I pray

you in wholesome manner.

Bid them wash their faces

and keep their teeth clean.

You know, sir, the cause

of my standing here.

I do, sir.

Tell me what hath

brought you to it.

My own deserving.

Your own deserving?

Aye, but not my own desire.

How not your own desire?

No sir, twas never

my desire yet

to trouble the...

poor with begging.

You must think if I

give you anything,

I hope to gain by you.

Well, then, I pray your

price o' the consulship?

The price is to ask it kindly.

Kindly?

Mmhmm.

I pray, sir,

let me have it.

I have wounds to show you what

shall be yours in private,

your good

voice, sir, what say you?

You shall have it,

worthy sir.

A match. There's in all

two worthy voices begged.

I have your alms, adieu.

But this is something odd.

Better it is to die,

better to starve

than crave the hire which

first we do deserve.

Pray you now, if it may stand

with the tune of your voice,

that I may be consul.

You have deserved

nobly of your country

and you have not

deserved nobly.

Your enigma?

You have been a

scourge to her enemies,

a rod to her friends,

but you have not indeed

loved the common people.

You should account

me the more virtuous

that I have not been

common in my love,

therefore beseech

you, I may be consul.

Well, we hope to

find you our friend

and therefore give you

our voices heartily.

You have many scars

for your country.

I will not seal your

knowledge in showing them.

I will make much

of your voices

and so trouble

you no further.

Gods give you joy

sir, heartily.

Most sweet voices!

Why in this wolfish garb

should I stand here to beg

of Hob and Dick that do

appear their needless vouches?

Custom calls me to it.

And what custom wills in

all things should we do it.

The one part suffered,

the other will I do.

Your voices.

For your voices,

I have fought.

For your voices

I have fought.

Watched for your voices.

- Watched for your voices.

For your voices bear

of wounds, two dozen odd.

Two dozen odd.

Battles thrice, six have

I seen and heard of.

Have I seen and heard of.

For your voices, I

have done many things.

I have done many things.

Some less, some more,

your voices, indeed,

I would be consul.

I would be consul.

Therefore,

let him be consul.

The gods give you joy

and help to make you

good friend to the people,

amen, God save thee,

noble consul.

Worthy voices.

How now, my masters,

have you chose this man?

We pray the gods

he may deserve your love.

He should have

showed you his marks of merit,

Could you not have told him as you were

lessened? wounds received for's country.

When he had no power, he was but a

petty servant Why, so he did, I am sure.

to the state,

he was your enemy. Ever spake against your liberties.

Why either were you ignorant to see it? Or seeing it,

If he should still malignantly remain Fast foe to the plebeii,

of such childish friendliness to yield your voices?

Your voices might be curses to yourself?

Thus to have said, as you were fore advised,

Did you deceive, he did solicit you in pre contempt

had touched his spirit and tried his inclination,

so putting him to rage, You should have ta'en the advantage of his

choler when he did need your loves. And do you think that this

And pass'd him unelected

contempt should not be bruising

to you now that he

have power to crush?

He's not confirmed.

We may deny him yet.

Get you hence instantly

and tell these friends

Let them assemble, And on a safer judgment that

they have chose a consul that will from them

all revoke your ignorant election; take all

revoke, make them no more voice than dogs

enforce his pride, And his old hate unto

you. that are as often beat for barking

And his old hate unto you.

as therefore kept to do so.

No, lay the fault on

us, your tribunes.

Say, you chose him more after our commandment

That we labored no impediment between

than as guided by your own true affections.

but that you must cast your election on him.

Ay, spare us not.

Lay the fault on us.

That he's your fixed enemy, and revoke your

ignorant election. Say we read lectures to you.

Say you ne'er had done

it, harp on that still,

but by our putting

on and presently

when you have drawn your

number repair to the capitol.

Let them go on, if

as his nature is,

he fall in rage

with their refusal,

both observe and answer

the vantage of his anger.

Uh-huh.

Tullus Aufidius then

hath made new head?

So the Volsces stand but

as at first ready when time

shall prompt them to

make road upon us again.

Ah, they are worn, Lord

consul, so we shall hardly

in our ages see their

banners wave again.

Shh, saw you Aufidius?

Spoke he of me?

How?

What?

At Antium lives he,

at Antium!

I wish I had cause

to seek him there,

to oppose his hatred

fully, welcome home.

Pass no further.

Ha, what is that?

It will be dangerous

to go on, no further.

What makes this change?

The matter?

Hath he not passed the

noble and the common?

Cominius, no.

Have I had children's voices?

Tribunes, give way, he

shall to the marketplace.

The people are

incensed against him.

Stop, or all will fall in broil.

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?

Be calm, be calm.

It is a purposed thing

and it grows by plot

to curb the will

of the nobility.

Suffer it and live with

such as cannot rule

nor ever will be ruled.

Call it not a plot.

The people cry you mock them.

And of late, when corn

was given them gratis,

you repined, scandaled the

suppliants for the people,

called them time pleasers,

flatterers, foes to nobleness.

Why, this was

known before.

Not to them all.

Have you informed

them sithence?

How? I inform them.

You are like to

do such business.

Not unlike, each

way to better yours.

Why then should

I be consul?

By yon clouds, let me

deserve so ill as you

and make me your

fellow tribune.

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.

Let's be calm.

- The people are abused,

set on, this paltering

becomes not Rome,

nor has Coriolanus deserved

this so dishonored rub.

Laid falsely in the

plain way of his merit.

Tell me of corn,

this was my speech

and I will speak it again.

Not now, not now.

- Not in this heat, sir, now

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 against our Senate

the cockle of rebellion,

insolence, sedition, which

we ourselves have plowed for,

sowed and scattered by

mingling them with us.

The honored number who

lack not virtue, no,

nor power but that which

they have given to beggars.

Well, no more.

- No more words,

we beseech you.

How no more?

As for my country,

I have shed my blood,

not fearing outward force,

so shall my lungs coin words

to their decay against those

measles which we disdain

should tatter us, yet sought

the very way to catch them.

You speak o' the people

as if you were a God

to punish and not a

man of their infirmity.

'Twere well we'd let

the people know it.

What, what, his temper?

Temper?

Were I as patient as

the midnight sleep,

by Jove, 'twould be my mind.

It is a mind that shall

remain a poison where it is,

not poison any further.

Shall remain?

Hear you this,

Shaitan of the minnows,

mark you his absolute shall.

Twas out of order.

Shall!

Oh good, but most

unwise patricians.

If he hath power, then

vail your ignorance.

If none, awake your

dangerous lenity.

If you are learned, be

not as common fools.

If you are not, let them

have their benches by you.

You are plebeians

if they be senators.

Shall, 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.

Well, on to the marketplace.

Whoever gave that counsel,

to give forth the corn

of the storehouse gratis...

Well, well, no more of that.

I say they nourish'd

disobedience,

fed the ruin of the state

Why shall the

people give one

that speaks thus

their voice?

Come, enough.

Enough with over measure.

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 barred,

it follows, nothing

is done to purpose.

Has said enough.

Has spoken like a traitor and

shall answer as traitors do.

Thou wretch, despite

o'erwhelm thee!

What should the people

do with these tribunes?

In a rebellion, when

what's not right,

what must be was law,

then were they chosen

in a better hour, let

what is right be said,

it must be right and throw

their power in the dust!

Manifest treason?

- This a consul? No.

Let him be apprehended!

- 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!

- Hence, rotten thing!

- Off, off.

- Seize him!

Here's he that would take

from you all your power.

You are at point to

lose your liberty,

Marcius would have all from you,

Marcius, whom late you

have named for consul.

Fie, fie, this is the way

to kindle, not to quench.

To unbuild the city

and to lay it all flat.

What is the city but the people?

By the consent of

all, we were elected

the people's magistrates.

But that is the way

to lay the city flat,

to bring the roof to the

foundation, and bury all.

This deserves death.

- Either let us stand

to our authority

or let us lose it.

We do here pronounce upon

the part of the people

in whose power we

were elected theirs,

Marcius is worthy

of present death.

Therefore lay hold of him,

bear him to the rock Tarpeian

and from thence into

destruction cast him!

No, I'll die here!

Lay hands upon him!

There's some among you who

have beheld me fighting.

Come, try upon yourselves

what you have seen me!

Down with that sword, get ye

to your house, be gone, away,

all will be naught else.

Nay, I prithee, noble

friend, home to thy house,

leave us to cure this cause.

Be gone, put not your worthy

rage into your tongue.

One time will owe another.

On fair ground I could

beat forty of them!

Yea, yea, yeah, I

could take up a brace

o' the best of them,

yea, the two tribunes,

but now 'tis odds

beyond arithmetic.

Be gone away.

Nay!

Come away!

I...

Oh, jeez, yeah,

come on.

His nature is too

noble for this world.

He will not flatter

Neptune for his trident

nor Jove for his

power to thunder.

His heart's his mouth,

what his breast forges,

that his tongue

must speak and ha,

being angry, forgets ever that

he heard the name of death.

Let them pull

all about mine ears,

present me death on the wheel

or at wild horses' heels,

yet will I still

be thus to them.

You do the nobler.

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.

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?

Oh, sir, sir, sir.

I would have had you

put your power well on

before you had worn it out!

Let go.

Lesser had been the checkings

of your disposition

if you had not showed them

how you were disposed,

ere they lacked

power to cross you!

Let them hang.

Ay, and burn too!

Come, come, you

have been too rough,

something too rough, you

must return and mend it.

There's no remedy

unless by not so doing

our good city cleave in

the midst and perish.

Pray be counseled?

I have a heart as

little apt as yours,

but yet a brain that

leads my use of anger

to better vantage.

Well said, noble woman.

Well, what must I do?

Return to the tribunes.

Well, what then, what then?

Repent what you have spoke.

For them! I cannot

do it for the gods,

must I do it for them?

You are too absolute!

I have heard you say

honor and policy,

like unsevered friends in

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.

Tush, tush.

A good demand.

If it be honor 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 you hold companionship

in peace with honor as in war?

Why force you this?

Because that now it lies on

you 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 bastards and

syllables of no allowance

to your bosom's truth.

Now, this no more

dishonors you at all

than to take in a

town with gentle words

which else would put

you to the fortune

and the hazard of much blood.

I would dissemble with my nature

were my fortunes and my

friends at stake required.

I should do so in honor.

I am in this your wife,

your son, the 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!

Noble lady, come, go

with us, speak fair

and you may salve so not only

what is dangerous present

but the loss of what is past.

I prithee now.

My son,

go to them.

Be with them.

Thy knee bussing the

stones and say to them,

thou art their soldier

and being bred in broils

has 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.

This but done even

as she speaks, why,

their hearts were yours.

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.

Madam, General Cominius is here.

I have been in the marketplace,

and sir, 'tis fit you

make strong party

or defend yourself by calmness

or absence, all's in anger.

Only fair speech.

I think 'twill serve

if he can thereto

frame his spirit.

He must and will.

Prithee now.

Say you will and go about it.

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 it.

Yet were there but this

single plot to lose,

this mold of Marcius, they

to dust should grind it

and throw it against the wind.

To the marketplace.

You have now put

me to such a part

which never I shall

discharge to the life.

Come, come, we'll prompt you.

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.

Well.

I must do it.

Away, my disposition and

possess me some harlot spirit.

My throat of war be turned

which quired with my drum

into a pipe small as a

eunuch, a beggar's tongue

make motion through my

lips and my arm'd knees

who bowed but in my

stirrups, bend like his

that has received an alms?

I will not do it, lest that

I cease to honor my own truth

and by my body's

action teach my mind

a most inherent baseness.

At thy choice, then!

To beg of thee, it is my more

dishonor than thou of them!

Come all to ruin!

Let thy mother

rather feel thy pride

than fear thy

dangerous stoutness!

Do as thou list, thy

valiantness was mine,

thou suckedst it from me!

But oh, thy pride, thyself!

Pray be content, mother, I

am going to the marketplace.

Chide me no more.

I'll mountebank their loves,

cog their hearts from them

and come back beloved of

all the trades in Rome.

Look, I am going.

Commend me to my wife,

I'll return consul

or never trust what my

tongue can do in the way

of flattery further.

DO - YOUR - WILL!

All right, away, now the

tribunes do attend you.

Now arm yourself

to answer mildly

for they are prepared

with accusations

as I hear, more strong

than are upon you yet.

The word is...

mildly?

Pray you, let us go, let

them accuse me by invention.

I will answer in mine honor.

Aye, but mildly.

Mildly be it then!

Mildly!

What, will he come?

He's coming.

How accompanied?

With old Menenius

and those senators that

always favored him.

Assemble presently

the people hither

and when they hear me

say it shall be so,

be it either for death,

for fine or banishment,

then let them if I say

fine, cry "Fine.'

If death, cry 'death.'

I shall inform them.

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.

Very well.

Go about it.

Put him to anger straight.

Being once chafed, he

cannot be reigned again

to temperance, then he

speaks what's in his heart

and that is there which looks

with us to break his neck.

Well, here he comes.

Calmly,

I do beseech you.

The honored guards

keep Rome in safety.

And the chairs of justice

supplied with worthy men.

Plant love amongst.

Throng our large temples

with shows of peace

and not our streets with war.

A noble wish.

Draw near, ye people!

List to your tribunes.

Audience, peace, I say!

First, hear me speak.

Peace ho!

Well?

Say.

Shall I be charged no

further than this present?

Must all determine here?

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.

I am content.

No, citizens, he

says he is content.

The warlike service

he has done consider,

think of all the

wounds his body bears

which are like graves

of the holy churchyard.

Scratches with briars,

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

becomes a soldier.

Well, well, no more.

What is the matter?

That being passed for

consul with full voice,

I am so dishonored that the

very hour you take it off again?

Answer to us.

Say then, tis true, I ought so.

We charge you

that you have contrived

to take from Rome

all seasoned office

and to wind yourself

into a power tyrannical

for which you are

a traitor to the people.

Traitor, how now?

Temperately, your promise!

The fires in the lowest

hell fold-in the people!

Call me their traitor?

Thou injurious tribune,

if within thine eyes

sat twenty thousand deaths,

in thy hand, clutch

so many millions,

in thy lying tongues,

both numbers, I would say,

thou liest unto thee

with a voice as free

as I do pray the gods.

Mark you this, people!

To the rocks!

Peace, 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!

But since he hath

served well for Rome...

What do you prate of service?

I talk of that that know it.

You? Is this the promise you

made your mother? No, I pray you.

I know no further, let

them pronounce my exile,

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.

In the name of the people

and in the power of us,

the tribunes, we even

from this instant

banish him our city, nevermore

to enter our Rome gates

in the people's name, I say,

it shall be so.

- It shall be so.

- It shall be so!

Hear me, my masters

and my common friends...

He's sentenced, no more hearing!

Now now now, let me speak.

I have been consul

and can show for Rome

her enemy's marks upon me.

I do love my country's

good with a respect

more holy, more tender, more

profound than mine own life,

then if I would, speak that.

We know your drift, speak what!

There is no more to be

said but he is banished.

As enemy to the people and

his country, it shall be so.

It shall be so!

You common cry of curs!

Whose breath I hate as

reek of the rotten fens,

whose love 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 rumor

shake your hearts.

Your enemies with

nodding of their plumes

fan you into despair!

Have power still to

banish your defenders

til at length your ignorance

which finds not 'til it feels

delivers 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.

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

showed mastership in floating.

You used to load

me with precepts

that would make invincible

the heart that conned them.

Oh

heavens, oh heavens!

Nay, prithee woman.

Now the red pestilence

strike all trades in Rome,

and occupations perish!

What, what, what!

I shall be loved

when I am lacked.

Nay, mother, resume that spirit,

when you are wont to say,

had you been the

wife of Hercules,

six of his labors

you'd have done,

and saved your

husband so much sweat.

Cominius,

droop not, adieu.

Thou old and

true Menenius,

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.

Your son will or

exceed the common

or be caught with cautelous

baits and practice.

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 the way before thee.

I'll follow thee a month,

devise with thee

where thou shalt rest,

that thou mayst hear

of us and we of thee.

Oh, the gods!

Come, my sweet wife,

my dearest mother,

and friends

of noble touch.

When I am forth, bid

me farewell, and smile.

While I remain above the ground,

you shall hear from me still,

and never of me aught but

what is like me formerly.

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,

I'd with thee every foot.

Give me thy hand.

Come.

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.

O world, thy slippery turns!

Friends now fast sworn,

whose double bosoms

seem to wear one heart,

who twin, as 'twere

in love unseparable,

shall within this hour,

on 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 issue.

So with me, my

birthplace 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.

Now we have

shown our power.

Let us seem humbler

after it is done

than when it

was a-doing.

Here comes his mother.

Let's not meet her.

- Why?

They say she's mad.

They have ta'en

note of us, keep on your way.

Oh, you're well met.

The hoarded plague of the

gods requite your loves.

Peace, peace.

Be not so loud.

If that I could for

weeping, you should hear.

Nay, and you shall hear some.

Will you be gone?

You shall stay too!

I would I had the power

to say so to my husband.

Are you mankind?

Aye, 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?

Oh blessed heavens!

More noble blows than

ever thou wise words,

and for Rome's good!

I 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?

What then, he'ld make

an end to thy posterity.

Bastards and all!

Good man, the wounds that he

does bear for Rome.

Come, come, peace.

I would he had continued

to his country as he began,

and not unknit himself

the noble knot he made.

I would he had.

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!

Pray, let us go.

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 banished,

does exceed you all!

Well, well,

we'll leave you.

Why stay we to be baited

with one who wants her wits?

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 it.

You have told them home,

and, by my troth,

you have good cause.

Sup you with me?

Anger's my meat!

I sup upon myself, and so

shall starve with feeding.

Where is this fellow?

Whence comest thou?

What wouldst thou?

Thy name?

Why speaks 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.

What is thy name?

A name unmusical

to the Volscian ears,

and harsh in

sound to thine.

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?

Prepare thy

brow to frown.

Know'st thou me yet?

I know thee not.

Thy name?

My name is

Caius Marcius.

Who hath done to

thee particularly

and 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, only that name remains.

The cruelty and

envy of the people,

permitted by our dastard nobles,

who have all forsook me,

hath devoured the rest,

and suffered me by

the voices of slaves

to be whooped 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 feared death,

of all the men in 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 cankered country

with the spleen of

all the under fiends.

But, if so be thou

darest not this,

and that to prove more

fortunes thou art tired,

then in a word, I also am

longer to live most weary,

and do present my throat to

thee and to thy ancient malice,

which not to cut would

show thee but a fool.

Since I have ever

followed thee with hate,

drawn tons of blood out

of thy country's breast,

and cannot live

but to thy shame,

unless it be to do thee service.

Oh Marcius,

Marcius.

Each word that thou hast spoke

hath weeded from my heart

a root of ancient envy.

If Jupiter should from yoned

cloud speak divine things,

and say 'tis true,

I'd 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 scarred the moon

with splinters.

Here I clip the

anvil of my sword,

and do contest as hotly

and as nobly with thy love

as ever in ambitious

strength I did contend

against thy valor.

Know thou first, I loved

the maid I married.

Never man sighed 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 a purpose once more

to hew thy target from thy

brawn, or lose mine arm for it.

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 throats,

and waked, half

dead with nothing.

Worthy Marcius, had we no

other quarrel else to Rome,

but that thou art

thence banished,

we would muster all

from twelve to seventy,

and pouring war into the

bowels of ungrateful Rome,

like a bold flood o'er bear it.

You bless me, gods!

Therefore,

most absolute sirrah,

if thou wilt have the

leading of thine own revenge,

take the one half of my

commissions, 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.

We hear not of him,

neither need

we fear him.

Our remedies are tame.

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 dissentious

numbers pestering streets

than see our tradesmen

working in their shops

and going about their

functions friendly.

We stood to it

in good time.

Is this Menenius?

'Tis he, 'tis he, oh he has

grown most kind of late.

Hail, sir.

Hail to you both.

Your Coriolanus is

not much missed,

but with his friends.

The commonwealth doth

stand, and so would do,

were he more angry at it.

Yes, all's well.

Might have been much better,

if he could have temporized.

Where is he, hear you?

Oh, I hear nothing.

His mother and his wife

hear nothing from him.

This is a happier

and more comely time.

Caius Marcius was a

worthy officer in the war

but insolent,

overcome with pride,

ambitious past all

thinking, self-loving.

And affecting one sole

throne, without assistance.

I think not so.

We should by this, to

all our lamentation,

if he had gone forth

consul, found it so.

The gods have

well prevented it,

and Rome sits safe

and still without him.

There is a man,

whom we have put in prison.

Reports, the Volsces

with two several powers

are entered in the

Roman territories,

and with the deepest

malice of the war,

destroy what lies before 'em.

'Tis Aufidius, who hearing

of our Marcius' banishment,

thrusts forth his horn

again into the world.

Come, what talk you of Marcius?

Go see this

rumorer whipped.

It cannot be The Volsces

dare break with us.

Cannot be?

We have record that

very well it can,

and three examples of the

like have been within my age.

Tell not me, I know

this cannot be.

Not possible.

The nobles

in great earnestness

are going all to

the senate-house.

The report is

seconded, and more,

more fearful, is delivered.

What more fearful?

It is spoke

freely out of many mouths

that Marcius, joined

with Aufidius,

leads a power 'gainst Rome.

This is most likely.

Raised only, that

the weaker sort

may wish good

Marcius home again.

The very trick on't.

This is unlikely, he and

Aufidius can no more atone

than violentest contrariety.

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.

Nah!

Oh, oh you have made good work!

What news,

what news?

You have holp to ravish

your own daughters

and your temples

burned in their cement.

Your news, if Marcius should

be joined with Volscians...

If! He is their god.

He leads them like a thing

made by some other deity

than nature that

shapes man better.

Yeah, and they follow him,

against us brats, with

no less confidence

than boys pursuing

summer butterflies,

or butchers killing flies.

You have made good work,

you and your apron-men.

But is this true, sir?

Aye, and you'll look pale

before you find it other.

All the regions do

smilingly revolt,

and who resist are mocked

for valiant ignorance,

and perish constant fools.

Who is't can blame him?

We are all undone, unless

the noble man have mercy.

Yeah, well who shall ask it?

The tribunes cannot

do it for shame,

the people deserve

such pity of him

as the wolf does

of the shepherd,

for his best friends,

showed like enemies.

It is true, if he were

putting to my house the fire

that should consume

it, I have not the face

to say, beseech you, cease.

You have brought such

a trembling upon Rome,

such as never was so

incapable of help.

Say not

we brought it!

Oh, come on.

How, was it we?

We loved him but, like

beasts and cowardly nobles,

gave way unto your clusters,

who did hoot him

out of the city.

Yeah, 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 defense

that Rome can make against them.

'Tis no matter,

if he could burn us

all into one coal,

we'd have deserved it.

I do not like this news.

Nor I.

Let us to the capitol.

Would half my wealth

would buy this for a lie!

Pray, let us go.

I do not know what

witchcraft's in him,

but your soldiers use him

as their grace 'fore meat,

their talk at table,

and their thanks at end.

And you are darkened in this

action, sir, even by your own.

I cannot help it now,

unless by using means, I

lame the foot of our design.

He bears himself more

proudlier 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.

Yet I wish, sir, I mean

for your particular,

that you had not joined

in commission with him,

but either borne this

action of yourself,

or to him had

left it solely.

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 he thinks,

and so it seems,

and is no less apparent

to the vulgar eye,

that he bears

all things fairly.

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.

Sir, I beseech you,

think you he'll carry Rome?

All things yield to

him ere he sits down.

The nobility of Rome are his.

Senators and patricians

love him too.

Tribunes are no soldiers.

I think his 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

bear his honors even.

Whether it was pride,

which out of daily fortune

ever taints the happy man,

or 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

sword to the senate,

but commanding peace even with

the same austerity and garb

as he controlled the war,

but one of these as,

he hath spices of

them all, not all,

for I dare so far free

him, made him feared,

so hated, and so banished,

but he hath 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 poorest of all,

then shortly art thou mine.

No, I'll not go.

- Oh!

You hear what he hath said,

which was sometime his general,

who loved him in a

most dear particular.

He would not

seem to know me.

Nay, if he coyed to

hear Cominius speak,

I'll keep at home.

Yet one time he did

call me by my name.

I urged our old acquaintance,

and the drops we

have bled together.

Coriolanus, he

would not answer to.

Do you hear?

Forbad all names.

He was a kind of nothing,

titleless,

till he had forged

himself a name

in the fire of

burning Rome.

Why so, you have made good work.

I minded him how

royal it was to pardon

when least expected.

He said it was a bare

petition of the state

to one whom they

had punished.

Very well, could he say less?

I offered to awaken

his regard for his,

his private friends.

He said he could not

stay to pick them

from a pile of

noisome musty chaff.

He said it was folly for

one poor grain or two,

to leave unburnt and

still to nose the offense.

For one poor grain or

two, I am one of those.

His mother, wife, his child,

this brave fellow too,

we are the grains, you

are the musty chaff

and you are smelt

above the moon,

and we must be burnt for you!

Nay pray, be patient!

If you refuse your aid in

this so never-needed help,

yet do not upbraid

us in 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.

No, I'll not meddle.

- Pray you, go to him!

What should I do?

Only make trial what

your love for Rome

can do toward Marcius.

Well...

and what if Marcius

should return me,

as Cominius is returned,

unheard, what then?

Then your good will must

have that thanks from Rome

after the measure,

as you intended well.

I'll undertake it.

I think he'll hear me,

yet, to bite his thumb

and hum at good Cominius,

much unhearts me.

He was not taken well,

he had not dined.

The veins unfilled,

our blood is cold,

and then we pout

upon the morning,

are unapt to give

or to forgive.

But when we have

stuffed these pipes

and these conveyances of our

blood with wine and feeding,

we have suppler souls than

in our priest-like fasts.

Therefore I'll watch him till

he be dieted to my request,

and then I'll set upon him.

You know the very road

into his kindness,

and cannot lose your way.

Good faith, I'll prove

him, speed how it will.

I shall ere long have

knowledge of my success.

He'll never hear him.

No?

I tell you, he does sit in gold,

his eye

red as 'twould burn Rome,

his injury a jailer to his pity.

I kneeled before him.

It was very

faintly he said,

"Rise."

Dismissed me thus with

his speechless hand.

All hope is vain.

Unless his noble

mother, and his wife

solicit him mercy to

his country.

Stay!

whence are you?

Stand,

and go back.

You guard like men,

'tis well.

But by your leave, I

am an officer of state,

and come to speak

with Coriolanus.

From whence?

- From Rome.

You may not pass,

you must return.

Our general will no

more hear from thence.

You'll see your Rome

embraced with fire

before you'll speak

with Coriolanus.

Good my friends, if you

have heard your general

talk of Rome, and of

his friends there,

it's lots to blanks, my

name hath touched your ears,

it is Menenius.

Be it so,

go back.

The virtue of your name

is not here passable.

I tell thee, fellow, the

general is my friend.

I have been the book

end of his good acts,

therefore, fellow,

I must have leave to pass.

Faith, sir,

go back.

Prithee remember,

my name is Menenius,

always factionary on the

party of your general.

You cannot pass,

therefore, go back!

Has he dined, canst thou tell?

For I would not speak with

him till after dinner.

You're a Roman,

are you?

I am, as thy general is.

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 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.

Sir, if thy captain knew I

were here, he would use me

with estimation.

Come, my captain

knows you not.

I mean, thy general.

My general cares

not for you!

Back, I say, go, lest I let

forth your half pint of blood.

Nay, but, fellow, fellow...

What's the matter?

Now you, companion, I'll

say a prayer for you.

You shall know now that

I am in estimation.

Guess, but by my

entertainment with him,

if thou standest not in

the state of hanging.

Behold presently, and swoon

for what's to come upon thee.

Oh, my son.

My son, my son.

Thou art preparing fire for us.

Look, 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.

He who, like a block, hath

denied my access to thee.

Away!

How, away?

Wife, mother, child, I know not.

My affairs are

servanted to others.

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.

Another word, Menenius, I

will not hear thee speak.

This man, Aufidius,

was my beloved in Rome,

yet thou behold'st.

You keep a constant temper.

Now, sir, is your name Menenius?

'Tis a spell, you

see, of much power.

You know the

way home again?

Do you hear how

we are shamed

for keeping your

greatness back?

What cause do you

think I have to swoon?

I neither care for the

world nor your general,

for such things as you, I

can scarce think there's any,

you are so slight.

He that hath a will

to die by himself

fears it not from another.

Let your general do his worst.

As for you, be as you are, long,

and may your misery

increase with your age.

I say to you, as I

was said to, away!

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.

Only their ends

you have respected.

Stopped your ears against

the general suit of Rome,

never admitted a

private whisper, no,

not with such friends that

thought them sure of you.

This last old man,

whom with a cracked heart

I have sent to Rome,

loved me above the

measure of a father.

Nay, godded me, indeed.

Fresh embassies and

suits, nor from the state

nor private friends,

hereafter will I lend ear to.

What shout is this?

Let the Volsces plow

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.

My lord and husband!

These eyes are not the

same I wore in Rome.

The sorrow that

delivers us thus changed

makes you think so.

Best of my flesh,

forgive my tyranny,

but do not say for that,

forgive our Romans.

Oh, a kiss

long as my exile,

sweet as my revenge.

Ye gods I prate, and the most

noble mother in the world

leave unsaluted, sink,

my knee in the earth.

Oooh,

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.

What is this, your knees to

me, to your corrected son?

Thou art my warrior,

I holp to frame thee.

This is a poor epitome of yours,

which by the

interpretation of full time

may show like all yourself.

The god of soldiers,

with the consent

of supreme Jove,

inform thy thoughts

with nobleness,

that thou mayst prove

to shame unvulnerable,

and stick in the wars

like a great sea-mark,

standing every flaw, and

saving those that eye thee.

Your knee, sirrah.

That's my brave boy.

Even he, your wife,

this lady, and myself,

are suitors to you?

I beseech you, peace,

or if you'll 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 allay

my rages and revenges

with your colder reasons.

Oh, no more, no more!

You have said you will

not grant us anything,

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.

Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark,

for we'll hear nought

from Rome in private.

Your request?

Should we be silent

and not speak,

our raiment and state of bodies

would betray 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.

We must find an

evident calamity,

though we had our wish,

which side should win.

For either thou must,

like 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 it, thou shalt not,

on thy mother's womb, that

brought thee to this world.

Aye, and mine, that

brought you forth this boy,

to keep your name

Living to time.

I shall not tread on me.

I'll run away till I am

bigger, but then I'll fight.

I have sat too long.

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 honor.

No, our suit is that

you reconcile them.

While the Volsces may say,

this mercy we have showed,

the Romans, this we received,

and each in either side

give the all hail to thee

and cry, be blessed for

making up this peace.

Thou knowest, 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 dogged with curses.

Whose chronicle thus

writ, the man was noble,

but with his last

attempt he wiped it out,

destroyed his country,

and his name remains

to the ensuing age abhorred.

Why dost not speak?

Thinkest thou it

honorable 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 reason.

There's no man in the world

more bound to his mother,

yet here he lets me prate

like one of the stocks.

Thou hast never in thy life

showed thy dear

mother any courtesy.

When she, poor hen, has

clucked thee to the wars

and safely home,

loaden with honors.

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 to which 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.

This is the last!

So, we will home to Rome,

and die among our neighbors.

Nay, beholds this boy that

cannot tell what he would have

does reason our petition

with more strength

than thou hast to deny it.

Come, let us go.

This fellow had a

Volscian to his mother,

his wife is in Corioles

and his child

like him by chance!

Yet give us our dispatch.

I am hushed,

until our city be a-fire,

and then I'll speak a little.

Oh mother,

mother.

What have you done?

Behold, the heavens do

ope, the gods look down,

and this unnatural

scene they laugh at!

Oh my mother,

mother.

Ah!

Is't possible that

so short a time

can alter the

condition of a man?

He wants nothing

of a god but eternity

and a heaven to throne in.

Yes, mercy, if you

report him truly.

The gods be good unto us.

No, in such a case as this,

the gods will not

be good to us.

When we banished him,

we respected not them,

and he, returning to break our

necks, they respect not us.

Sir!

If you'd save your life,

fly you 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.

What's the news?

Good news?

The ladies have prevailed.

The Volscians are

dislodged, and Marcius gone?

A merrier day did never

yet greet Rome, friend.

Art thou certain this is

true, is it most certain?

This is good news, I

will go meet the ladies.

You have prayed well today.

This morning for ten

thousand of your throats

I'd not have given a doit.

How is it with our general?

As with a man by his

own charity slain.

We must proceed as we

do find the people.

The people will remain

uncertain whilst

'twixt you there's difference.

But the fall of either makes

the survivor heir of all.

I know it.

And my pretext to strike at

him admits a good discourse.

I raised him,

and I pawned

mine honor for his truth.

Who being so heightened,

he watered his new plants

with dews of flattery,

seducing so my friends.

And to this end,

he bowed his nature,

never known before

but to be rough,

unswayable and free.

Sir, his stoutness, when

he did stand for consul,

which he lost by

lack of stooping...

That I would have spoken of.

Being banished for it,

he came unto my hearth.

He presented to my

knife his throat.

I took him,

I 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 seemed

his follower, not partner,

and he waged me with

his countenance,

as if I had been mercenary.

So he did, my lord.

The army marvelled at

it, and in the last,

when he had carried

Rome and that we looked

for no less spoil than glory...

There was it, for

the which my sinews

shall be stretched upon him.

For a few drops

of women's rheum,

which are as cheap as lies,

he sold the blood and

labor of our great action.

Therefore shall he die, and

I'll renew me in his fall.

But, hark!

Your native town you

entered like a post,

and had no welcomes

home, but he returns,

splitting the air with noise.

And patient fools, whose

children he hath slain,

their base throats tear

with giving him glory.

Say no more, here

come the lords.

You are most welcome home.

I have not deserved it.

But worthy lords,

have you with heed

perused what I have

written to you?

We have.

And grieve to hear it.

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,

making a treaty where

there was a yielding,

this admits no excuse.

You shall hear him.

Hail, lords, I am

returned your soldier,

no more infected with

my country's love

than when I parted thence,

but still subsisting

under your great command.

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 honor

to the Antiates

than shame to the Romans.

And we here deliver,

subscribed by the consuls

and patricians, together

with the seal of the senate,

what we have compounded on.

Read it not, noble lords,

but tell the traitor,

in the highest degree

he hath abused your powers.

Traitor, how now?

- Aye traitor, Marcius.

- Marcius?

Aye, Marcius,

Caius Marcius.

Dost thou think I'll grace

thee with that robbery,

thy stolen name

Coriolanus in Corioles?

You lords and

heads of the state,

perfidiously he has betrayed

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 of the war,

but at his nurse's

tears he whined

and roared away your victory!

Hear'st thou, Mars?

Name not the god,

thou boy of tears!

Ha?

- No more.

Measureless liar, thou

hast made my heart

too great for what contains it.

Boy?

Oh slave, pardon me,

lords, 'tis the first time

that ever I was forced to scold.

And your judgments,

my grave lords,

must give this cur the

lie, and his own notion.

Who wears my stripes

impressed upon him,

that must bear my

beating to his grave,

shall join to thrust

the lie unto him.

Peace, both, hear me speak.

Cut me to pieces, Volsces.

Boy?

False hound.

If you have writ your

annals true, 'tis there,

that like an eagle

in a dove-cote,

I fluttered your

Volscians in Corioles.

Alone, I did it, boy!

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?

Peace, ho, no outrage, peace!

The man is noble and

his fame folds-in

this orb over the earth.

His last offenses to us

shall have judicious hearing.

Stand, Aufidius, and

trouble not the peace.

Oh that I had him, with

six Aufidiuses or more,

his tribe, to use

my lawful sword!

Insolent villain!

Hold, hold,

hold, hold, hold!

Thou hast done a deed

whereat valor will weep.

When you shall know,

noble lords,

the great danger which this

man's life did owe you,

you'll rejoice that

he is thus cut off.

Please it your honors to

call me to your senate,

I'll deliver myself

your most loyal servant,

or endure your heaviest censure.

My rage is gone,

and I am struck with sorrow.

Help, to bear him up,

three of the chiefest soldiers.

I'll be one.

Beat thou the drum,

let it speak mournfully.

Trail your steel pikes.

Though in this city

he hath widowed

and unchilded many a one,

which to this hour

bewail the injury,

Yet he shall have

a noble memory.