You take it off again?
Sic. Anfwer to us.
Cor. Say then: 'tis true, I ought fo.
Sic. We charge you, that you have contriv'd to take From Rome all feafon'd Office, and to wind
Your felf unto a Power tyrannical;
For which you are a traitor to the People.
Cor. How? Traitor?
Men. Nay, temperately: your promise.
Cor. The fires i' th' loweft hell fold in the people!
Call me their traitor ! thou injurious Tribune!
Within thine eyes fate twenty thousand deaths,
In thy hands clutch'd as many millions, in
Thy lying tongue both numbers; I would fay,
Thou lieft, unto thee, with a voice as free,
As I do pray the Gods.
Sic. Mark you this, people?
All. To th' Rock with him.
Sic. Peace:
We need not lay new matter to his charge:
What you have feen him do, and heard him speak,
Beating your Officers, curfing your felves,
Oppofing laws with ftroaks, and here defying
Those whofe great Power must try him, even this
So criminal, and in fuch capital kind,
Deferves th' extreamesft death.
Bru. But fince he hath
Serv'd well for Rome -
Cor. What do you prate of fervice?
Bru. I talk of That, that know it.
Cor. You?
Men. Is this the promise that you
Com. Know, I pray you
Cor. I'll know no farther:
Let them pronounce the teep Tarpeian death,
Vagabond exile, fleaing, pent to linger
But with a grain a-day, I would not buy
Their mercy at the price of one fair word;
Nor check my courage for what they can give,
To hav't with faying, good morrow.
(As much as in him lyes) from time to time
Envy'd against the people; feeking means
To pluck away their Power; as now at laft
Giv'n hoftile ftroaks, and that not in the presence
Of dreaded juftice, but on the Ministers
That do diftribute it; in the Name o'th' People,
And in the Power of us the Tribunes, we
(Ev'n from this inftant) banish him our City;
In peril of precipitation
From off the Rock Tarpeian, never more
To enter our Rome's Gates. I'th' People's Name,
I fay, it fhall be fo.
All. It fhall be fo, it fhall be fo; let him away:
He's banifh'd, and it fhall be fo.
Com. Hear me, my Masters, and my common FriendsSic. He's fentenc'd: no more hearing.
(23) I have been Conful, and can fhew for Rome
Her Enemies' Marks upon me. I do love
My Country's Good, with a refpect more tender,
More holy, and profound, than mine own life,
My dear wife's estimate, her womb's increase,
And treasure of my loins: then if I would
Speak that
Sic. We know your drift. Speak what?
Bru. There's no more to be faid, but he is banish'd As enemy to the People and his Country.
(23) I have been Conful, and can shew from Rome
Her Enemies Marks upon me. ] How, from Rome? Did He receive hoftile Marks from his own Country? No fuch thing: He receiv'd them in the Service of Rome. So, twice in the Beginning of next A&, it is faid of Coriolanus z
To banish him, that struck more Blows for Rome,
Than Thon haft Spoken Words ?
Good Man the Wounds that he does bear for Rome!
All. It fhall be fo, it fhall be fo.
Cor. You common cry of curs, whose breath I hate,
As reek o'th' rotten fenns; whofe loves I prize,
As the dead carkaffes of unburied men,
That do corrupt my air: I banish you:
And here remain with your uncertainty;
Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts;
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,
Fan you into despair: have the power ftill
To banish your Defenders, 'till at length,
Your ignorance (which finds not, 'till it feels;
Making but refervation of your felves
Still your own enemies) deliver you,
As moft abated captives, to fome nation
That won you without blows! Despifing then,
For you, the City, thus I turn my back :
There is a world elsewhere-
[Exeunt Coriolanus, Cominius, and others.
[The people fhout, and throw up their caps.
Ed. The people's enemy is gone, is gone!
All. Our enemy is banish'd; he is gone! Hoo! hoo!
Sic. Go fee him out at gates, and follow him
As he hath follow'd you; with all despight
Give him deferv'd vexation. Let a guard
Attend us through the City.
All. Come, come; let us fee him out at the gates;
The Gods preserve our noble Tribunes !
SCENE, before the Gates of Rome.
Enter Coriolanus, Volumnia, Virgilia, Menenius, Cominius, with the young Nobility of Rome.
Ome, leave your tears: a brief farewel : the beaft
With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother,
Where is your ancient Courage? you were us'd
To fay, Extremity was the trier of fpirits,
That common chances common men could bear;
That, when the Sea was calm, all boats alike
Shew'd mastership in floating. Fortune's blows,
When moft ftruck home, being gently warded, craves
A noble cunning. You were us'd to load me
With precepts, that would make invincible
The heart that conn'd them.
Vir. Oh heav'ns! O heav'ns !
Cor. Nay, I pr'ythee, woman
Vol. Now the red peftilence ftrike all trades in Rome, And occupations perish!
Cor. What! what! what!
I shall be lov'd, when I am lack'd. Nay, mother, Refume that spirit, when you were wont to say, you had been the wife of Hercules,
Six of his labours you'd have done, and fav'd
Your husband fo much fweat. Cominius,
Droop not; adieu : farewel, my wife! my mother!
I'll do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius,
Thy tears are falter than a younger man's,
And venomous to thine eyes. My fometime General,
I've seen thee ftern, and thou haft oft beheld
Heart-hardning fpectacles. Tell these fad women,
'Tis fond to wail inevitable ftroaks,
As 'tis to laugh at 'em. Mother, you wot,
Hy hazards ftill have been your folace; and
Believe't not lightly, (tho' I go alone,
Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen
Makes fear'd, and talk'd of more than feen :) your Son
Will, or exceed the common, or be caught
With cautelous baits and practice.
Where will you go? take good Cominius
With thee a while; determine on fome course,
More than a wild expofure to each chance,
That ftarts i' th' way before thee.
Com. I'll follow thee a month, devife with thee
Where thou fhalt reft, that thou may't hear of us,
And we of thee. So, if the time thruft forth
A Cause for thy Repeal, we shall not fend
O'er the vast world, to feek a fingle man;
And lofe advantage, which doth ever cool
I'th' abfence of the needer.
Thou'st years upon thee, and thou art too full
Of the war's furfeits, to go rove with one
That's yet unbruis'd; bring me but out at gate.
Come, my fweet wife, my deareft mother, and
My friends of noble touch: when I am forth,
Bid me farewel, and smile. I pray you, come.
While I remain above the ground, you fhall
Hear from me ftill, and never of me aught
But what is like me formerly.
Men. That's worthily
As any ear can hear. Come, let's not weep.
If I could fhake off but one feven years
From these old arms and legs, by the good Gods,
I'd with thee every foot.
Enter Sicinius and Brutus, with the Edile.
Sic. Bid them all home, he's gone; and we'll no fur
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