The Works of William Shakespeare

fine spot, in good faith. How does your little son?

Vir. I thank your ladyship; well, good madam.

Vol. He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, than look upon his schoolmaster.

Val. O' my word, the father's son: I'll swear, 'tis a very pretty boy. O' my troth, I looked upon him o' Wednesday half an hour together: has 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 comes, and up again; catched it again; or whether his fall enraged him, or how 'twas, he did so set his teeth and tear it; O, I warrant, how he mammocked it! Vol. One on 's father's moods. Val.

Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child.

Vir. A crack, madam.

Val. Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play the idle huswife with me this after

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small]

Vir. Indeed, madam?

Val. 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, with one part of our Roman power: your lord and Titus Lartius are set down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt prevailing and to make it brief wars. This is true, on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us.

Vir. Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every thing hereafter.

Vol. Let her alone, lady: as she is now, but disease our better mirth. Val.

she will

In troth, I think she would. Fare you well, then. Come, good sweet lady. Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o' door, and go along with us.

121

Vir. No, at a word, madam; indeed, I must
I wish you much mirth.
Val. Well, then, farewell.

not.

[Exeunt.

Lart. My horse to yours, no.

'Tis done.

Mar.
Lart.
Agreed.
Mar. Say, has our general met the enemy?
Mess. They lie in view; but have not spoke
as yet.

Lart. So, the good horse is mine.
Mar.
I'll buy him of you.
Lart. No, I'll nor sell nor give him: lend you
him I will

For half a hundred years. Summon the town.
Mar. How far off lie these armies?
Mess.
Within this mile and half.
Mar. Then shall we hear their 'larum, and
they ours.

Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work, 10 That we with smoking swords may march from hence,

To help our fielded friends! Come, blow thy blast. They sound a parley. Enter two Senators with

others on the walls.

Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls?

First Sen. No, nor a man that fears you less than he,

That's lesser than a little. [Drums afar off.] Hark! our drums

Are bringing forth our youth. We'll break our
walls,
Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates,
Which yet seem shut, we have but pinn'd with
rushes;

They'll open of themselves. [Alarum afar off]
Hark you, far off!
There is Aufidius; list, what work he makes 20
Amongst your cloven army.

Mar.
O, they are at it!
Lart. Their noise be our instruction.
ders, ho!

Lad

Enter the army of the Volsces. Mar. They fear us not, but issue forth their city. Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proof than shields. Advance, brave Titus:

They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, Which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on, my fellows:

He that retires, I'll take him for a Volsce,
And he shall feel mine edge.

Alarum. The Romans are beat back to their trenches. Re-enter MARCIUS, cursing. Mar. All the contagion of the south light on

More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue From every meaner man.

Mar.

Enter MARCIUS.

Come I too late?

him up in their arms, and cast up their
caps.

O, me alone! make you a sword of me?
If these shows be not outward, which of you
But is four Volsces? none of you but is

Com. Ay, if you come not in the blood of Able to bear against the great Aufidius

others,

He did inform the truth: but for our gentlemen,
The common file-a plague! tribunes for them!
The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat as they did
budge

From rascals worse than they.
Com.

But how prevail'd you? Mar. Will the time serve to tell? I do not think.

Where is the enemy? are you lords o' the field?
If not, why cease you till you are so?
Com.

Marcius,

We have at disadvantage fought and did
Retire to win our purpose.

Mar. How lies their battle? know you on which side

They have placed their men of trust?
Com.

As I guess, Marcius,
Their bands i' the vaward are the Antiates,
Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius,
Their very heart of hope.

Mar. I do beseech you, By all the battles wherein we have fought, By the blood we have shed together, by the vows We have made to endure friends, that you directly Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates; And that you not delay the present, but, Filling the air with swords advanced and darts, We prove this very hour.

Com.

Though I could wish You were conducted to a gentle bath And balms applied to you, yet dare I never Deny your asking: take your choice of those That best can aid your action.

Mar.

Those are they That most are willing. If any such be here-As it were sin to doubt that love this painting Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear Lesser his person than an ill report;

If any think brave death outweighs bad life
And that his country's dearer than himself;
Let him alone, or so many so minded,
Wave thus, to express his disposition,
And follow Marcius.

A shield as hard as his. A certain number, Though thanks to all, must I select from all: the

SCENE VII. The gates of Corioli. TITUS LARTIUS, having set a guard upon Corioli, going with drum and trumpet toward COMINIUS and CAIUS MARCIUS, enters with a Lieutenant, other Soldiers, and a Scout. Lart. So, let the ports be guarded: keep your duties,

As I have set them down. If I do send, dispatch
Those centuries to our aid; the rest will serve
For a short holding: if we lose the field,
We cannot keep the town.

Lieu.
Fear not our care, sir.
Lart. Hence, and shut your gates upon's.
Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct
[Exeunt.

us.

Holloa me like a hare.

Mar.

If I fly, Marcius,

Within these three hours, Tullus, Alone I fought in your Corioli walls,

And made what work I pleased: 'tis not my blood
Wherein thou seest me mask'd; for thy revenge
Wrench up thy power to the highest.
Auf.
Wert thou the Hector 11
That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny,
Thou shouldst not scape me here.

[They fight, and certain Volsces come in the
aid of Aufidius. Marcius fights till they
be driven in breathless.

Officious, and not valiant, you have shamed me In your condemned seconds.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IX. The Roman camp. 70 Flourish. Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter, from one side, COMINIUS with the Romans; from the other side, MARCIUS, with his arm in a scarf.

[They all shout and wave their swords, take

Com. If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work,

Thou❜ldst not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it
Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles,
Where great patricians shall attend and shrug,
I' the end admire, where ladies shall be frighted,
And, gladly quaked, hear more; where the dull
tribunes,

That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours,
Shall say against their hearts 'We thank the gods
Our Rome hath such a soldier.'

Yet camest thou to a morsel of this feast,
Having fully dined before.

Enter TITUS LARTIUS, with his power, from
the pursuit.

Lart.

O general,

Here is the steed, we the caparison:
Hadst thou beheld-

Mar.

Pray now, no more: my mother,
Who has a charter to extol her blood,
When she does 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:
He that has but effected his good will
Hath overta'en mine act.

Com.

You shall not be

The grave of your deserving; Rome must know
The value of her own: 'twere a concealment
Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement,
To hide your doings; and to silence that,
Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd,
Would seem but modest: therefore, I beseech
you-

In sign of what you are, not to reward
What you have done-before our army hear me.
Mar. I have some wounds upon me, and they

smart

To hear themselves remember'd.
Com.

Should they not,
Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude,
And tent themselves with death. Of all the
horses,

Whereof we have ta'en good and good store,
of all

The treasure in this field achieved and city,
We render you the tenth, to be ta'en forth,
Before the common distribution, at
Your only choice.
Mar.

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.

you,

Like one that means his proper harm, in manacles,

Then reason safely with you. Therefore, be it
known,

As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius 59
Wears this war's garland: in token of the which,
My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him,
With all his trim belonging; and from this time,
For what he did before Corioli, call him,
With all the applause and clamour of the host,
CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS! Bear
The addition nobly ever!

[Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums.
All. Caius Marcius Coriolanus !
Cor. I will go wash;

And when my face is fair, you shall perceive
Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thank you. 70
I mean to stride your steed, and at all times
To undercrest your good addition
To the fairness of my power.
Com.
So, to our tent;
Where, ere we do repose us, we will write
To Rome of our success. You, Titus Lartius,
Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome
The best, with whom we may articulate,
For their own good and ours.

Lart.
I shall, my lord.
Cor. The gods begin to mock me. I, that now
Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg &
Of my lord general.

Com.
Take't; 'tis yours. What is't?
Cor. I sometime lay here in Corioli
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 o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you
To give my poor host freedom.
Com.
O, well begg'd!
Were he the butcher of my son, he should
Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus.
Lart. Marcius, his name?
Cor.

By Jupiter! forgot.
I am weary; yea, my memory is tired.
Have we no wine here?

Com.
Go we to our tent:
[A long flourish. They all cry 'Marcius! The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time
Marcius!' cast up their caps and lances: | It should be look'd to: come.
Cominius and Lartius stand bare.

Mar. May these same instruments, which you profane,

[Exeunt.

SCENE X. The camp of the Volsces.

Never sound more! when drums and trumpets A flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS,

Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour's poison'd

With only suffering stain by him; for him
Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep nor sanctuary,
Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol,
The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice,
Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up
Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst
My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it
At home, upon my brother's guard, even there,
Against the hospitable canon, would I
Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to the
city;

Learn how 'tis held; and what they are that

SCENE I. Rome. A public place.

Men. Because you talk of pride now,-will you not be angry?

Both. Well, well, sir, well.

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 the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you in being so. You blame Marcius for being proud?

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 napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O that you could! Bru. What then, sir?

Men. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates, alias fools, as 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 in't; said to be something imperfect in favouring 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 can't 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,

Enter MENENIUS with the two Tribunes of the yet they lie deadly that tell you you have good

people, SICINIUS and BRUTUS.

Bru. Good or bad?

faces. If you see this in the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known well enough

Men. The augurer tells me we shall have too? what harm can your bisson conspectuities news to-night. glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too? Bru. enough.

Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius.

Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.

Men. Pray you, who does the wolf love?
Sic. The lamb.

Men. Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius.

Come, sir, come, we know you well

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 orangewife and a fosset-seller; and then rejourn the controversy of three pence 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.

Bru. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table than a necessary bencher in the Capitol.

Men. Our very priests must become mockers, if they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as When you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging of your beards;

you are.

« Zurück Weiter »

Books