ACT II.
Scene I. Rome. A public place.
Enter Menenius, with the two Tribunes of the people, Sicinius,
and Brutus.[2784]
Men. The augurer tells me we shall have news to-night.[2785]
Bru. Good or bad?
Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for
they love not Marcius.
Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. 5
Men. Pray you, who does the wolf love?[2786]
Sic. The lamb.
Men. Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would
the noble Marcius.
Bru. He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear. 10
Men. He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You
two are old men: tell me one thing that I shall ask you.
Both. Well, sir.
Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you[2787]
two have not in abundance? 15
Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all.[2788]
Sic. Especially in pride.[2789]
Bru. And topping all others in boasting.[2790]
Men. This is strange now: do you two know how you
are censured here in the city, I mean of us o' the right-hand[2791] 20
file? do you?
Both. Why, how are we censured?[2792]
Men. Because you talk of pride now,—will you not be
angry?
Both. Well, well, sir, well. 25
Men. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of
occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience: give your
dispositions the reins, and be angry at your pleasures; at[2793]
the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you in being so.
You blame Marcius for being proud?[2794] 30
Bru. We do it not alone, sir.
Men. I know you can do very little alone; for your helps
are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous single:
your abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone. You
talk of pride: O that you could turn your eyes toward the[2795] 35
napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of
your good selves! O that you could!
Men. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting,[2797]
proud, violent, testy magistrates, alias fools, as 40
any in Rome.
Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough too.
Men. I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one
that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber[2798]
in't; said to be something imperfect in favouring the first[2799][2800] 45
complaint, hasty and tinder-like upon too trivial motion;[2799][2801]
one that converses more with the buttock of the night than
with the forehead of the morning: what I think I utter, and
spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two such wealsmen
as you are,—I cannot call you Lycurguses—if the drink[2802] 50
you give me touch my palate adversely, I make a crooked
face at it. I can't say your worships have delivered the[2803]
matter well, when I find the ass in compound with the major
part of your syllables: and though I must be content to bear
with those that say you are reverend grave men, yet they[2804] 55
lie deadly that tell you you have good faces. If you see this[2805]
in the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known
well enough too? what harm can your bisson conspectuities[2806]
glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too?
Bru. Come, sir, come, we know you well enough. 60
Men. You know neither me, yourselves, nor any thing.
You are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs: you wear
out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a cause between
an orange-wife and a fosset-seller, and then rejourn the controversy[2807]
of three-pence to a second day of audience. When 65
you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you[2808]
chance to be pinched with the colic, you make faces like
mummers; set up the bloody flag against all patience; and,
in roaring for a chamber-pot, dismiss the controversy bleeding,[2809]
the more entangled by your hearing: all the peace you 70
make in their cause is, calling both the parties knaves. You
are a pair of strange ones.
Bru. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter
giber for the table than a necessary bencher in the
Capitol. 75
Men. Our very priests must become mockers, if they
shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When[2810]
you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging[2810]
of your beards; and your beards deserve not so honourable
a grave as to stuff a botcher's cushion, or to be entombed 80
in an ass's pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is[2811]
proud; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors
since Deucalion; though peradventure some of the
best of 'em were hereditary hangmen. God-den to your[2812]
worships: more of your conversation would infect my brain, 85
being the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians: I will be bold[2813]
to take my leave of you. [Brutus and Sicinius go aside.
Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria.[2814]
How now, my as fair as noble ladies,—and the moon, were[2815]
she earthly, no nobler—whither do you follow your eyes so
fast? 90
Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches;
for the love of Juno, let's go.
Men. Ha! Marcius coming home!
Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosperous
approbation. 95
Men. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee. Hoo![2816]
Marcius coming home![2817]
Vir.} Nay, 'tis true.[2818]
Val.}
Vol. Look, here's a letter from him: the state hath
another, his wife another; and, I think, there's one at home 100
for you.
Men. I will make my very house reel to-night: a letter
for me!
Vir. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw 't.
Men. A letter for me! it gives me an estate of seven 105
years' health; in which time I will make a lip at the physician:
the most sovereign prescription in Galen is but empiricutic,[2819]
and, to this preservative, of no better report than a
horse-drench. Is he not wounded? he was wont to come
home wounded. 110
Vir. O, no, no, no.
Vol. O, he is wounded; I thank the gods for't.
Men. So do I too, if it be not too much: brings a' victory[2820]
in his pocket? the wounds become him.[2821]
Vol. On's brows: Menenius, he comes the third time[2822] 115
home with the oaken garland.
Men. Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly?[2823]
Vol. Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but
Aufidius got off.
Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that: 120
an he had stayed by him, I would not have been so fidiused[2824]
for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold that's in them. Is
the senate possessed of this?
Vol. Good ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes; the senate has
letters from the general, wherein he gives my son the whole 125
name of the war: he hath in this action outdone his former
deeds doubly.
Val. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him.
Men. Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without
his true purchasing. 130
Vir. The gods grant them true!
Men. True! I'll be sworn they are true. Where is he
wounded? [To the Tribunes] God save your good worships![2826][2827]
Marcius is coming home: he has more cause to be[2826] 135
proud. Where is he wounded?
Vol. I' the shoulder and i' the left arm: there will be[2828]
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. 140
Men. One i' the neck, and two i' the thigh; there's nine[2829]
that I know.
Vol. He had, before this last expedition, twenty five[2830]
wounds upon him.
Men. Now it's twenty seven: every gash was an enemy's[2831] 145
grave. [A shout and flourish.] Hark! the trumpets.[2832]
Vol. These are the ushers of Marcius: before him he[2833]
carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears:[2833]
Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie;[2834]
Which, being advanced, declines, and then men die.[2834] 150
A sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter Cominius and Titus Lartius;
between them, Coriolanus, crowned with an oaken garland;
with Captains and Soldiers, and a Herald.[2835]
Her. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight[2836]
Within Corioli gates: where he hath won,[2837]
With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these[2838][2839]
In honour follows Coriolanus.[2839][2840]
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! [Flourish.[2841][2842] 155
All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus![2841]
Cor. No more of this, it does offend my heart;[2843]
Pray now, no more.[2843]
Com. Look, sir, your mother![2843]
Cor. O,[2843]
You have, I know, petition'd all the gods[2843]
For my prosperity! [Kneels.[2843]
Vol. Nay, my good soldier, up;[2844] 160
My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and[2845]
By deed-achieving honour newly named,—[2845][2846]
What is it?—Coriolanus must I call thee?—
But, O, thy wife!
Cor. My gracious silence, hail![2847]
Wouldst thou have laugh'd had I come coffin'd home, 165
That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah, my dear,
Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear,[2848]
And mothers that lack sons.
Men. Now, the gods crown thee!
Cor. And live you yet? [To Valeria] O my sweet lady, pardon.[2849]
Vol. I know not where to turn: O, welcome home:[2850] 170
And welcome, general: and ye're welcome all.[2850][2851]
Men. A hundred thousand welcomes. I could weep[2852]
And I could laugh, I am light and heavy. Welcome:[2852][2853]
A curse begin at very root on's heart,[2852][2854]
That is not glad to see thee! You are three[2852] 175
That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith of men,[2852]
We have some old crab-trees here at home that will not[2852][2855]
Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors:[2852][2856]
We call a nettle but a nettle, and[2852]
The faults of fools but folly.[2852]
Her. Give way there, and go on.
Cor. [To Volumnia and Virgilia] Your hand, and yours:[2859]
Ere in our own house I do shade my head,
The good patricians must be visited;
From whom I have received not only greetings, 185
But with them change of honours.[2860]
Vol. I have lived
To see inherited my very wishes
And the buildings of my fancy: only[2861][2862]
There's one thing wanting, which I doubt not but[2861][2863]
Our Rome will cast upon thee.[2861]
Cor. Know, good mother,[2864] 190
I had rather be their servant in my way
Than sway with them in theirs.
Com. On, to the Capitol!
[Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before.
Brutus and Sicinius come forward.[2865]
Bru. All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights[2866]
Are spectacled to see him: your prattling nurse
Into a rapture lets her baby cry[2867] 195
While she chats him: the kitchen malkin pins[2868]
Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck,
Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks, windows,[2869][2870]
Are smother'd up, leads fill'd and ridges horsed[2869]
With variable complexions, all agreeing 200
In earnestness to see him: seld-shown flamens[2871]
Do press among the popular throngs, and puff
To win a vulgar station: our veil'd dames
Commit the war of white and damask in[2872][2873]
Their nicely-gawded cheeks to the wanton spoil[2873] 205
Of Phœbus' burning kisses: such a pother,[2874]
As if that whatsoever god who leads him
Were slily crept into his human powers,[2875]
And gave him graceful posture.[2876]
Bru. Then our office may,[2877] 210
During his power, go sleep.[2877]
Sic. He cannot temperately transport his honours
From where he should begin and end, but will[2878]
Lose those he hath won.[2879]
Bru. In that there's comfort.
Sic. Doubt not
The commoners, for whom we stand, but they 215
Upon their ancient malice will forget
With the least cause these his new honours; which[2880]
That he will give them make I as little question[2881]
As he is proud to do 't.[2882]
Bru. I heard him swear,
Were he to stand for consul, never would he 220
Appear i' the market-place, nor on him put
The napless vesture of humility,[2883]
Nor showing, as the manner is, his wounds
To the people, beg their stinking breaths.
Sic. 'Tis right.
Bru. It was his word: O, he would miss it rather[2884] 225
Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him[2884]
And the desire of the nobles.[2884][2885]
Sic. I wish no better[2886]
Than have him hold that purpose and to put it[2886]
In execution.[2886]
Bru. 'Tis most like he will.
Sic. It shall be to him then, as our good wills,[2887][2888] 230
A sure destruction.[2887]
Bru. So it must fall out
To him or our authorities. For an end,[2889]
We must suggest the people in what hatred
He still hath held them; that to's power he would[2890]
Have made them mules, silenced their pleaders and[2891] 235
Dispropertied their freedoms; holding them,[2892]
In human action and capacity,[2892]
Of no more soul nor fitness for the world
Than camels in the war, who have their provand[2893]
Only for bearing burthens, and sore blows 240
For sinking under them.
Sic. This, as you say, suggested
At some time when his soaring insolence[2894]
Shall touch the people—which time shall not want,[2895][2896]
If he be put upon 't; and that's as easy
As to set dogs on sheep—will be his fire[2897] 245
To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze
Shall darken him for ever.
Enter a Messenger.