ACT 1
Scene 1
...Capitol! Come, come!
Enter Menenius Agrippa.
...rest were so!
What work ’s, my countrymen, in hand? Where go you
With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray you.
...strong arms too.
Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbors,
Will you undo yourselves?
...are undone already.
I tell you, friends, most charitable care
Have the patricians of you. For your wants,
Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well
Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them
Against the Roman state, whose course will on
The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs
Of more strong link asunder than can ever
Appear in your impediment. 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 o’ th’ state, who care for you like fathers,
When you curse them as enemies.
...they bear us.
Either you must confess yourselves wondrous malicious
Or be accused of folly. I shall tell you
A pretty tale. It may be you have heard it,
But since it serves my purpose, I will venture
To stale ’t a little more.
...please you, deliver.
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
I’ th’ midst o’ th’ body, idle and unactive,
Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing
Like labor with the rest, where th’ 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. The belly answered—
...made the belly?
Sir, I shall tell you. With a kind of smile,
Which ne’er came from the lungs, but even thus—
For, look you, I may make the belly smile
As well as speak—it tauntingly replied
To th’ discontented members, the mutinous parts
That envied his receipt; even so most fitly
As you malign our senators for that
They are not such as you.
...if that they—
What then?
’Fore me, this fellow speaks. What then? What then?
...o’ th’ body—
Well, what then?
...the belly answer?
I will tell you,
If you’ll bestow a small—of what you have little—
Patience awhile, you’st hear the belly’s answer.
...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 the 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, to th’ seat o’ th’ brain;
And, through the cranks and offices of man,
The strongest nerves and small inferior veins
From me receive that natural competency
Whereby they live. And though that all at once,
You, my good friends”—this says the belly, mark me—
...sir, well, well.
“Though all at once cannot
See what I do deliver out to each,
Yet I can make my audit up, that all
From me do back receive the flour of all,
And leave me but the bran.” What say you to ’t?
...apply you this?
The senators of Rome are this good belly,
And you the mutinous members. For examine
Their counsels and their cares, digest things rightly
Touching the weal o’ th’ common, you shall find
No public benefit which you receive
But it proceeds or comes from them to you
And no way from yourselves. What do you think,
You, the great toe of this assembly?
...the great toe?
For that, being one o’ th’ lowest, basest, poorest,
Of this most wise rebellion, thou goest foremost.
Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run,
Lead’st first to win some vantage.
But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs.
Rome and her rats are at the point of battle;
The one side must have bale.
Enter Caius Martius.
Hail, noble Martius.
...another?—What’s their seeking?
For corn at their own rates, whereof they say
The city is well stored.
...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?
...Shouting their emulation.
What is granted them?
...For insurrection’s arguing.
This is strange.
...behind this business.
O, true bred!
...well forth.—Pray follow.
They exit. Sicinius and Brutus remain.
ACT 2
Scene 1
...I shall, sir.
Enter Menenius with the two Tribunes of the people, Sicinius and Brutus.
The augurer tells me we shall have news
tonight.
...Good or bad?
Not according to the prayer of the people,
for they love not Martius.
...know their friends.
Pray you, who does the wolf love?
... The lamb.
Ay, to devour him, as the hungry plebeians
would the noble Martius.
...like a bear.
He’s a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb.
You two are old men; tell me one thing that I shall
ask you.
... Well, sir.
In what enormity is Martius poor in, that
you two have not in abundance?
...others in boasting.
This is strange now. Do you two know how
you are censured here in the city, I mean of us o’
th’ right-hand file, do you?
...are we censured?
Because you talk of pride now, will you not
be angry?
...well, sir, well?
Why, ’tis no great matter; for a very little
thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience.
Give your dispositions the reins, and be
angry at your pleasures, at the least, if you take it
as a pleasure to you in being so. You blame Martius
for being proud.
...not alone, sir.
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 infantlike
for doing much alone. You talk of pride. O,
that you could turn your eyes toward the napes
of your necks and make but an interior survey of
your good selves! O, that you could!
...What then, sir?
Why, then you should discover a brace of
unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates, alias
fools, as any in Rome.
...well enough, too.
I am known to be a humorous patrician and
one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of
allaying Tiber in ’t; said to be something imperfect
in favoring the first complaint, hasty and tinder-like
upon too trivial motion; one that converses
more with the buttock of the night than with the
forehead of the morning. What I think I utter,
and spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two
such wealsmen as you are—I cannot call you
Lycurguses—if the drink you give me touch my
palate adversely, I make a crooked face at it. I cannot
say your Worships have delivered the matter
well when I find the ass in compound with the
major part of your syllables. And though I must
be content to bear with those that say you are reverend
grave men, yet they lie deadly that tell you
have good faces. If you see this in the map of my
microcosm, follows it that I am known well enough
too? What harm can your bisson conspectuities
glean out of this character, if I be known well
enough, too?
...you well enough.
You know neither me, yourselves, nor anything.
You are ambitious for poor knaves’ caps
and legs. You wear out a good wholesome forenoon
in hearing a cause between an orange-wife
and a faucet-seller, and then rejourn the controversy
of threepence to a second day of audience.
When you are hearing a matter between party and
party, if you chance to be pinched with the colic,
you make faces like mummers, set up the bloody
flag against all patience, and, in roaring for a
chamber pot, dismiss the controversy bleeding,
the more entangled by your hearing. All the peace
you make in their cause is calling both the parties
knaves. You are a pair of strange ones.
...in the Capitol.
Our very priests must become mockers if
they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as
you are. When you speak best unto the purpose, it
is not worth the wagging of your beards, and your
beards deserve not so honorable a grave as to
stuff a botcher’s cushion or to be entombed in an
ass’s packsaddle. Yet you must be saying Martius is
proud, who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all
your predecessors since Deucalion, though peradventure
some of the best of ’em were hereditary
hangmen. Good e’en to your Worships. More of
your conversation would infect my brain, being
the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians. I will be
bold to take my leave of you. He begins to exit. Brutus and Sicinius stand aside.
Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria.
How now, my as fair as noble ladies—and the
moon, were she earthly, no nobler—whither do
you follow your eyes so fast?
...Juno, let’s go!
Ha? Martius coming home?
...most prosperous approbation.
Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee! (He throws his cap in the air.)
Hoo! Martius coming
home?
...home for you.
I will make my very house reel tonight. A
letter for me?
...I saw ’t.
A letter for me? It gives me an estate of
seven years’ health, in which time I will make a lip
at the physician. The most sovereign prescription
in Galen is but empiricutic and, to this preservative,
of no better report than a horse drench. Is he not
wounded? He was wont to come home wounded.
...gods for ’t.
So do I too, if it be not too much. Brings he
victory in his pocket, the wounds become him.
...the oaken garland.
Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly?
...Aufidius got off.
And ’twas time for him too, I’ll warrant him
that. An he had stayed by him, I would not have
been so ’fidiused for all the chests in Corioles and
the gold that’s in them. Is the Senate possessed of
this?
...spoke of him.
Wondrous? Ay, I warrant you, and not without
his true purchasing.
...True? Pow waw!
True? I’ll be sworn they are true. Where is
he wounded? (To the Tribunes.)
God save your
good Worships! Martius is coming home; he has
more cause to be proud.—Where is he wounded?
...i’ th’ body.
One i’ th’ neck and two i’ th’ thigh—there’s
nine that I know.
...wounds upon him.
Now it’s twenty-seven. Every gash was an
enemy’s grave.
(A shout and flourish.)
Hark, the
trumpets!
...Coriolanus. Sound flourish.
Welcome to Rome, renownèd Coriolanus!
...that lack sons.
Now the gods crown thee!
...you’re welcome all.
A hundred thousand welcomes! I could weep,
And I could laugh; I am light and heavy. Welcome.
A curse begin at very root on ’s heart
That is not glad to see thee! You are three
That Rome should dote on; yet, by the faith of men,
We have some old crab trees here at home that will not
Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors!
We call a nettle but a nettle, and
The faults of fools but folly.
...to the Capitol.
Flourish of cornets. They exit in state, as before.
Scene 2
...They are coming.
A sennet. Enter the Patricians and the Tribunes of the people, Lictors before them; Coriolanus, Menenius, Cominius the consul. The Patricians sit. Sicinius and Brutus take their places by themselves. Coriolanus stands.
Having determined of the Volsces and
To send for Titus Lartius, it remains,
As the main point of this our after-meeting,
To gratify his noble service that
Hath thus stood for his 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 Martius Caius Coriolanus, whom
We met here both to thank and to remember
With honors like himself.
...prized them at.
That’s off, that’s off!
I would you rather had been silent. Please you
To hear Cominius speak?
...you give it.
He loves your people,
But tie him not to be their bedfellow.—
Worthy Cominius, speak.
Coriolanus rises and offers to go away.
Nay, keep your place.
...as they weigh.
Pray now, sit down.
...my nothings monstered.
Masters of the people,
Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter—
That’s thousand to one good one—when you now see
He had rather venture all his limbs for honor
Than one on ’s ears to hear it.—Proceed, Cominius.
...breast with panting.
Worthy man!
...to end it.
He’s right noble.
Let him be called for.
... Enter Coriolanus.
The Senate, Coriolanus, are well pleased
To make thee consul.
...life and services.
It then remains
That you do speak to the people.
...jot of ceremony.
to Coriolanus
Put them not to ’t.
Pray you, go fit you to the custom, and
Take to you, as your predecessors have,
Your honor with your form.
...their breath only!
Do not stand upon ’t.—
We recommend to you, tribunes of the people,
Our purpose to them, and to our noble consul
Wish we all joy and honor.
...joy and honor!
Flourish cornets. Then they exit. Sicinius and Brutus remain.
Scene 3
...a worthier man.
Enter Coriolanus in a gown of humility, with Menenius.
...him. Content, content.
O sir, you are not right. Have you not known
The worthiest men have done ’t?
...our own drums.”
O me, the gods!
You must not speak of that. You must desire them
To think upon you.
...lose by ’em.
You’ll mar all.
I’ll leave you. Pray you, speak to ’em, I pray you,
In wholesome manner.
He exits.
... Worthy voices!
Enter Menenius, with Brutus and Sicinius.
You have stood your limitation, and the Tribunes
Endue you with the people’s voice. Remains
That in th’ official marks invested, you
Anon do meet the Senate.
...th’ Senate House.
I’ll keep you company.—Will you along?
...Fare you well.
Coriolanus and Menenius exit.
ACT 3
Scene 1
...have goaded onward.
Cornets. Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, all the Gentry, Cominius, Titus Lartius, and other Senators.
...makes this change?
The matter?
...set them on?
Be calm, be calm.
...him for tribune.
Let’s be calm.
...speak ’t again.
Not now, not now.
...given to beggars.
Well, no more.
...people know ’t.
What, what? His choler?
...Sometime in Greece—
Well, well, no more of that.
...peck the eagles.
Come, enough.
...with the Aediles.
On both sides more respect!
...Brutus, Coriolanus, citizens!
Peace, peace, peace! Stay, hold, peace!
What is about to be? I am out of breath.
Confusion’s near. I cannot speak. You, tribunes
To th’ people!—Coriolanus, patience!—
Speak, good Sicinius.
...named for consul.
Fie, fie, fie!
This is the way to kindle, not to quench.
...You so remain.
And so are like to do.
...Yield, Martius, yield!
Hear me one word.
Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word.
... Peace, peace!
Be that you seem, truly your country’s friend,
And temp’rately proceed to what you would
Thus violently redress.
...have seen me.
Down with that sword!—Tribunes, withdraw awhile.
...hands upon him!
Help Martius, help!
You that be noble, help him, young and old!
...down with him!
to Coriolanus
Go, get you to your house. Begone, away.
All will be naught else.
...friends as enemies.
Shall it be put to that?
...cure this cause.
For ’tis a sore upon us
You cannot tent yourself. Begone, beseech you.
...o’ th’ Capitol.
Begone!
Put not your worthy rage into your tongue.
One time will owe another.
...forty of them.
I could myself
Take up a brace o’ th’ best of them, yea, the two tribunes.
...used to bear?
to Coriolanus
Pray you, begone.
I’ll try whether my old wit be in request
With those that have but little. This must be patched
With cloth of any color.
...marred his fortune.
His nature is too noble for the world.
He would not flatter Neptune for his trident
Or Jove for ’s power to thunder. His heart’s his mouth;
What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent,
And, being angry, does forget that ever
He heard the name of death.
A noise within.
Here’s goodly work.
...they were abed!
I would they were in Tiber. What the vengeance,
Could he not speak ’em fair?
...every man himself?
You worthy tribunes—
...sure on ’t.
Sir, sir—
... Peace!
Do not cry havoc where you should but hunt
With modest warrant.
...make this rescue?
Hear me speak.
As I do know the Consul’s worthiness,
So can I name his faults.
...Consul? What consul?
The consul Coriolanus.
...no, no, no!
If, by the Tribunes’ leave, and yours, good people,
I may be heard, I would crave a word or two,
The which shall turn you to no further harm
Than so much loss of time.
...He dies tonight.
Now the good gods forbid
That our renownèd Rome, whose gratitude
Towards her deservèd children is enrolled
In Jove’s own book, like an unnatural dam
Should now eat up her own.
...be cut away.
O, he’s a limb that has but a disease—
Mortal to cut it off; to cure it easy.
What has he done to Rome that’s worthy death?
Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost—
Which I dare vouch is more than that he hath
By many an ounce—he dropped it for his country;
And what is left, to lose it by his country
Were to us all that do ’t and suffer it
A brand to th’ end o’ th’ world.
...nature, Spread further.
One word more, one word!
This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find
The harm of unscanned swiftness, will too late
Tie leaden pounds to ’s heels. Proceed by process,
Lest parties—as he is beloved—break out
And sack great Rome with Romans.
...Ourselves resisted! Come.
Consider this: he has been bred i’ th’ wars
Since he could draw a sword, and is ill schooled
In bolted language; meal and bran together
He throws without distinction. Give me leave,
I’ll go to him and undertake to bring him
Where he shall answer by a lawful form,
In peace, to his utmost peril.
...our first way.
I’ll bring him to you.
To Senators.
Let me desire your company. He must come,
Or what is worst will follow.
...let’s to him.
All exit.
Scene 2
...and burn too.
Enter Menenius with the Senators.
to Coriolanus
Come, come, you have been too rough, something too rough.
You must return and mend it.
...To better vantage.
Well said, noble woman.
Before he should thus stoop to th’ herd—but that
The violent fit o’ th’ time craves it as physic
For the whole state—I would put mine armor on,
Which I can scarcely bear.
...must I do?
Return to th’ Tribunes.
...then? What then?
Repent what you have spoke.
... Tush, tush!
A good demand.
...want might ruin.
Noble lady!—
Come, go with us; speak fair. You may salve so,
Not what is dangerous present, but the loss
Of what is past.
...power and person.
This but done
Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours;
For they have pardons, being asked, as free
As words to little purpose.
...All’s in anger.
Only fair speech.
...in mine honor.
Ay, but mildly.
...it, then. Mildly.
They exit.
Scene 3
...break his neck.
Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, and Cominius, with others (Senators).
...here he comes.
aside to Coriolanus
Calmly, I do beseech you.
... Amen, amen.
A noble wish.
...I am content.
Lo, citizens, he says he is content.
The warlike service he has done, consider. Think
Upon the wounds his body bears, which show
Like graves i’ th’ holy churchyard.
...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 become a soldier
Rather than envy you.
... How? Traitor?
Nay, temperately! Your promise.
...know it. You?
Is this the promise that you made your mother?
...a world elsewhere.
Coriolanus, Cominius, with others (Senators) exit.
ACT 4
Scene 1
...noble tribunes! Come!
Enter Coriolanus, Volumnia, Virgilia, Menenius, Cominius, with the young nobility of Rome.
...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, by the good gods,
I’d with thee every foot.
...thy hand. Come.
They exit.
Scene 2
...comes his mother.
Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Menenius.
...Requite your love!
Peace, peace! Be not so loud.
...bear for Rome!
Come, come, peace.
...heavy to ’t.
You have told them home,
And, by my troth, you have cause. You’ll sup with me?
...Come, come, come.
Fie, fie, fie!
He exits.
Scene 6
...in good time.
Enter Menenius.
...Of late.—Hail, sir.
Hail to you both.
...angry at it.
All’s well, and might have been much better if
He could have temporized.
...he, hear you?
Nay, I hear nothing;
His mother and his wife hear nothing from him.
...throne, without assistance.
I think not so.
...lies before ’em.
’Tis Aufidius,
Who, hearing of our Martius’ banishment,
Thrusts forth his horns again into the world,
Which were inshelled when Martius stood for Rome,
And durst not once peep out.
...break with us.
Cannot be?
We have record that very well it can,
And three examples of the like hath been
Within my age. But reason with the fellow
Before you punish him, where he heard this,
Lest you shall chance to whip your information
And beat the messenger who bids beware
Of what is to be dreaded.
...trick on ’t.
This is unlikely;
He and Aufidius can no more atone
Than violent’st contrariety.
...good work!
What news? What news?
...to your noses—
What’s the news? What’s the news?
...an auger’s bore.
Pray now, your news?—
You have made fair work, I fear me.—Pray, your news?
If Martius should be joined with Volscians—
...butchers killing flies.
to the Tribunes
You have made good work,
You and your apron-men, you that stood so much
Upon the voice of occupation and
The breath of garlic eaters!
...about your ears.
As Hercules did shake down mellow fruit.
You have made fair work.
...something in him.
We are all undone, unless
The noble man have mercy.
...showed like enemies.
’Tis true.
If he were putting to my house the brand
That should consume it, I have not the face
To say “Beseech you, cease.”—You have made fair hands,
You and your crafts! You have crafted fair!
...we brought it.
How? Was ’t we? We loved him, but like beasts
And cowardly nobles, gave way unto your clusters,
Who did hoot him out o’ th’ city.
...troop of Citizens.
Here come the clusters.—
And is Aufidius with him? You are they
That made the air unwholesome when you cast
Your stinking, greasy caps in hooting at
Coriolanus’ exile. Now he’s coming,
And not a hair upon a soldier’s head
Which will not prove a whip. As many coxcombs
As you threw caps up will he tumble down
And pay you for your voices. ’Tis no matter.
If he could burn us all into one coal,
We have deserved it.
...things, you voices!
You have made good work, you and your cry!—
Shall ’s to the Capitol?
...ay, what else?
Both exit.
ACT 5
Scene 1
...art thou mine.
Enter Menenius, Cominius, Sicinius, Brutus (the two Tribunes), with others.
No, I’ll not go. You hear what he hath said
Which was sometime his general, who loved him
In a most dear particular. He called me father,
But what o’ that? Go you that banished him;
A mile before his tent, fall down, and knee
The way into his mercy. Nay, if he coyed
To hear Cominius speak, I’ll keep at home.
...to know me.
Do you hear?
...Of burning Rome.
to the Tribunes
Why, so; you have made good work!
A pair of tribunes that have wracked Rome
To make coals cheap! A noble memory!
...they had punished.
Very well.
Could he say less?
...nose th’ offense.
For one poor grain or two!
I am one of those! His mother, wife, his child,
And this brave fellow too, we are the grains;
You are the musty chaff, and you are smelt
Above the moon. We must be burnt for you.
...stop our countryman.
No, I’ll not meddle.
...go to him.
What should I do?
...Rome, towards Martius.
Well, and say that Martius
Return me, as Cominius is returned, unheard,
What then? But as a discontented friend,
Grief-shot with his unkindness? Say ’t be so?
...you intended well.
I’ll undertake ’t.
I think he’ll hear me. Yet to bite his lip
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 priestlike fasts. Therefore I’ll watch him
Till he be dieted to my request,
And then I’ll set upon him.
...lose your way.
Good faith, I’ll prove him,
Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge
Of my success.
He exits.
Scene 2
...haste them on.
Enter Menenius to the Watch, or Guard.
...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.
...speak with Coriolanus.
Good my friends,
If you have heard your general talk of Rome
And of his friends there, it is lots to blanks
My name hath touched your ears. It is Menenius.
...not here passable.
I tell thee, fellow,
Thy general is my lover. I have been
The book of his good acts, whence men have read
His fame unparalleled happily amplified;
For I have ever verified my friends—
Of whom he’s chief—with all the size that verity
Would without lapsing suffer. Nay, sometimes,
Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground,
I have tumbled past the throw, and in his praise
Have almost stamped the leasing. Therefore, fellow,
I must have leave to pass.
...Therefore, go back.
Prithee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius,
always factionary on the party of your
general.
...Therefore, go back.
Has he dined, can’st thou tell? For I would
not speak with him till after dinner.
...Roman, are you?
I am, as thy general is.
...reprieve and pardon.
Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here, he
would use me with estimation.
...knows you not.
I mean thy general.
...your having. Back!
Nay, but fellow, fellow—
...What’s the matter?
to First Watch
Now, you companion, I’ll
say an errand for you. You shall know now that I
am in estimation; you shall perceive that a Jack
guardant cannot office me from my son Coriolanus.
Guess but by my entertainment with him
if thou stand’st not i’ th’ state of hanging or of some
death more long in spectatorship and crueler in
suffering; behold now presently, and swoon for
what’s to come upon thee. (To Coriolanus.)
The
glorious gods sit in hourly synod about thy particular
prosperity and love thee no worse than thy old
father Menenius does! O my son, my son! (He weeps.)
Thou art preparing fire for us; look thee,
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, this, who, like a block, hath denied
my access to thee.
... Away!
How? Away?
...for thy sake,
He gives Menenius a paper.
...have to swoon?
I neither care for th’ world nor your general.
For such things as you, I can scarce think
there’s any, you’re so slight. He that hath a will to
die by himself fears it not from another. Let your
general do his worst. For you, be that you are,
long; and your misery increase with your age! I say
to you, as I was said to, away!
He exits.
Scene 4
...made this peace.
Enter Menenius and Sicinius.
See you yond coign o’ th’ Capitol, yond
cornerstone?
...what of that?
If it be possible for you to displace it with
your little finger, there is some hope the ladies of
Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with
him. But I say there is no hope in ’t. Our throats
are sentenced and stay upon execution.
...of a man?
There is differency between a grub and a
butterfly, yet your butterfly was a grub. This Martius
is grown from man to dragon. He has wings;
he’s more than a creeping thing.
...his mother dearly.
So did he me; and he no more remembers
his mother now than an eight-year-old horse. The
tartness of his face sours ripe grapes. When he
walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground
shrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a
corslet with his eye, talks like a knell, and his hum
is a battery. He sits in his state as a thing made for
Alexander. What he bids be done is finished with
his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but eternity
and a heaven to throne in.
...report him truly.
I paint him in the character. Mark what
mercy his mother shall bring from him. There is
no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male
tiger. That shall our poor city find, and all this is
long of you.
...good unto us.
No, in such a case the gods will not be good
unto us. When we banished him, we respected not
them; and he returning to break our necks, they
respect not us.
...you!A shout within.
This is good news.
I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia
Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians
A city full; of tribunes such as you
A sea and land full. You have prayed well today.
This morning for ten thousand of your throats
I’d not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy!
...help the joy.
They exit.