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.

Mar.

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.

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.

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40

[A long flourish. They all cry' Marcius! Marcius!' cast up their caps and lances: Cominius and Lartius stand bare.

Mar. May these same instruments, which you profane,
Never sound more! when drums and trumpets shall
I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be
Made all of false-faced soothing!

When steel grows soft as the parasite's silk,
Let him be made a coverture for the wars!
No more, I say! For that I have not wash'd
My nose that bled, or foil'd some debile wretch,

Com.

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.

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Too modest are you;
More cruel to your good report than grateful
To us that give you truly: by your patience,
If 'gainst yourself you be incensed, we 'll put 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
Wears this war's garland: in token of the which, 60
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;

Com.

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.

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

Lart.

For their own good and ours.

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.

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Take 't; 'tis yours. What is 't?

Cor. I sometime lay here in Corioli

Com.

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.

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.

Com.

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

Go we to our tent:

The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time
It should be look'd to: come.

Scene X.

The camp of the Volsces.

90

[Exeunt.

A flourish. Cornets. Enter Tullus Aufidius, bloody, with two or three Soldiers.

Auf. The town is ta'en!

First Sol. "Twill be deliver'd back on good condition.
Auf. Condition!

I would I were a Roman; for I cannot,

Being a Volsce, 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 hast thou beat me;
And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter
As often as we eat. By the elements,

If e'er again I meet him beard to beard,

He's mine, or I am his: mine emulation

Hath not that honour 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.

First Sol.

He's the devil.

ΙΟ

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

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Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to the city;
Learn how 'tis held, and what they are that must

Be hostages for Rome.

First Sol.

Will not you go?

Auf. I am attended at the cypress grove: I pray you- 30

'Tis south the city mills-bring me word thither
How the world goes, that the pace of it

I may spur on my journey.

First Sol.

I shall, sir.

[Exeunt.

ACT SECOND.

Scene I.

Rome. A public place.

Enter Menenius, with the two Tribunes of the people, Sicinius and Brutus.

Men. The augurer tells me we shall have news to

night.

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.
Men. Pray you, who does the wolf love?

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.
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

two have not in abundance?

Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all.
Sic. Especially in pride.

Bru. And topping all others in boasting.

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 file? do you?

Both. Why, how are we censured?

ΙΟ

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