First Citizen:
Before we proceed any further, hear me speak.
All:
Speak, speak.
First Citizen:
You are all resolved rather to die than to famish?
All:
Resolved. resolved.
First Citizen:
First, you know Caius Marcius is chief enemy to the people.
All:
We know’t, we know’t.
First Citizen:
Let us kill him, and we’ll have corn at our own price.
Is’t a verdict?
All:
No more talking on’t; let it be done: away, away!
Second Citizen:
One word, good citizens.
First Citizen:
We are accounted poor citizens, the patricians good.
What authority surfeits on would relieve us: if they
would yield us but the superfluity, while it were
wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely;
but they think we are too dear: the leanness that
afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an
inventory to particularise their abundance; our
sufferance is a gain to them Let us revenge this with
our pikes, ere we become rakes: for the gods know I
speak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge.
Second Citizen:
Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcius?
All:
Against him first: he’s a very dog to the commonalty.
Second Citizen:
Consider you what services he has done for his country?
First Citizen:
Very well; and could be content to give him good
report fort, but that he pays himself with being proud.
Second Citizen:
Nay, but speak not maliciously.
First Citizen:
I say unto you, what he hath done famously, he did
it to that end: though soft-conscienced men can be
content to say it was for his country he did it to
please his mother and to be partly proud; which he
is, even till the altitude of his virtue.
Second Citizen:
What he cannot help in his nature, you account a
vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous.
First Citizen:
If I must not, I need not be barren of accusations;
he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition.
What shouts are these? The other side o’ the city
is risen: why stay we prating here? to the Capitol!
All:
Come, come.
First Citizen:
Soft! who comes here?
Second Citizen:
Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath always loved
the people.
First Citizen:
He’s one honest enough: would all the rest were so!
MENENIUS:
What work’s, my countrymen, in hand? where go you
With bats and clubs? The matter? speak, I pray you.
First Citizen:
Our business is not unknown to the senate; they have
had inkling this fortnight what we intend to do,
which now we’ll show ’em in deeds. They say poor
suitors have strong breaths: they shall know we
have strong arms too.
MENENIUS:
Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbours,
Will you undo yourselves?
First Citizen:
We cannot, sir, we are undone already.
MENENIUS:
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’ the state, who care for you like fathers,
When you curse them as enemies.
First Citizen:
Care for us! True, indeed! They ne’er cared for us
yet: suffer us to famish, and their store-houses
crammed with grain; make edicts for usury, to
support usurers; repeal daily any wholesome act
established against the rich, and provide more
piercing statutes daily, to chain up and restrain
the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and
there’s all the love they bear us.
MENENIUS:
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.
First Citizen:
Well, I’ll hear it, sir: yet you must not think to
fob off our disgrace with a tale: but, an ‘t please
you, deliver.
MENENIUS:
There was a time when all the body’s members
Rebell’d against the belly, thus accused it:
That only like a gulf it did remain
I’ the midst o’ the body, idle and unactive,
Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing
Like labour with the rest, where the 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 answer’d–
First Citizen:
Well, sir, what answer made the belly?
MENENIUS:
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 the 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.
First Citizen:
Your belly’s answer? What!
The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye,
The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier,
Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter.
With other muniments and petty helps
In this our fabric, if that they–
MENENIUS:
What then?
‘Fore me, this fellow speaks! What then? what then?
First Citizen:
Should by the cormorant belly be restrain’d,
Who is the sink o’ the body,–
MENENIUS:
Well, what then?
First Citizen:
The former agents, if they did complain,
What could the belly answer?
MENENIUS:
I will tell you
If you’ll bestow a small–of what you have little–
Patience awhile, you’ll hear the belly’s answer.
First Citizen:
Ye’re long about it.
MENENIUS:
Note me this, good friend;
Your most grave belly was deliberate,
Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer’d:
‘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 store-house 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 the seat o’ the 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,–
First Citizen:
Ay, sir; well, well.
MENENIUS:
‘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?
First Citizen:
It was an answer: how apply you this?
MENENIUS:
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’ the 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?
First Citizen:
I the great toe! why the great toe?
MENENIUS:
For that, being one o’ the lowest, basest, poorest,
Of this most wise rebellion, thou go’st 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.
Hail, noble Marcius!
MARCIUS:
Thanks. What’s the matter, you dissentious rogues,
That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,
Make yourselves scabs?
First Citizen:
We have ever your good word.
MARCIUS:
He that will give good words to thee will flatter
Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs,
That like nor peace nor war? the one affrights you,
The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you,
Where he should find you lions, finds you hares;
Where foxes, geese: you are no surer, no,
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,
Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is
To make him worthy whose offence subdues him
And curse that justice did it.
Who deserves greatness
Deserves your hate; and your affections are
A sick man’s appetite, who desires most that
Which would increase his evil. He that depends
Upon your favours swims with fins of lead
And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust Ye?
With every minute you do change a mind,
And call him noble that was now your hate,
Him vile that was your garland. What’s the matter,
That in these several places of the city
You cry against the noble senate, who,
Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else
Would feed on one another? What’s their seeking?
MENENIUS:
For corn at their own rates; whereof, they say,
The city is well stored.
MARCIUS:
Hang ’em! They say!
They’ll sit by the fire, and presume to know
What’s done i’ the Capitol; who’s like to rise,
Who thrives and who declines; side factions
and give out
Conjectural marriages; making parties strong
And feebling such as stand not in their liking
Below their cobbled shoes. They say there’s
grain enough!
Would the nobility lay aside their ruth,
And let me use my sword, I’ll make a quarry
With thousands of these quarter’d slaves, as high
As I could pick my lance.
MENENIUS:
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?
MARCIUS:
They are dissolved: hang ’em!
They said they were an-hungry; sigh’d forth proverbs,
That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat,
That meat was made for mouths, that the gods sent not
Corn for the rich men only: with these shreds
They vented their complainings; which being answer’d,
And a petition granted them, a strange one–
To break the heart of generosity,
And make bold power look pale–they threw their caps
As they would hang them on the horns o’ the moon,
Shouting their emulation.
MENENIUS:
What is granted them?
MARCIUS:
Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms,
Of their own choice: one’s Junius Brutus,
Sicinius Velutus, and I know not–‘Sdeath!
The rabble should have first unroof’d the city,
Ere so prevail’d with me: it will in time
Win upon power and throw forth greater themes
For insurrection’s arguing.
MENENIUS:
This is strange.
MARCIUS:
Go, get you home, you fragments!
Messenger:
Where’s Caius Marcius?
MARCIUS:
Here: what’s the matter?
Messenger:
The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms.
MARCIUS:
I am glad on ‘t: then we shall ha’ means to vent
Our musty superfluity. See, our best elders.
First Senator:
Marcius, ’tis true that you have lately told us;
The Volsces are in arms.
MARCIUS:
They have a leader,
Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to ‘t.
I sin in envying his nobility,
And were I any thing but what I am,
I would wish me only he.
COMINIUS:
You have fought together.
MARCIUS:
Were half to half the world by the ears and he.
Upon my party, I’ld revolt to make
Only my wars with him: he is a lion
That I am proud to hunt.
First Senator:
Then, worthy Marcius,
Attend upon Cominius to these wars.
COMINIUS:
It is your former promise.
MARCIUS:
Sir, it is;
And I am constant. Titus Lartius, thou
Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus’ face.
What, art thou stiff? stand’st out?
TITUS:
No, Caius Marcius;
I’ll lean upon one crutch and fight with t’other,
Ere stay behind this business.
MENENIUS:
O, true-bred!
First Senator:
Your company to the Capitol; where, I know,
Our greatest friends attend us.
TITUS:
COMINIUS:
Noble Marcius!
First Senator:
MARCIUS:
Nay, let them follow:
The Volsces have much corn; take these rats thither
To gnaw their garners. Worshipful mutiners,
Your valour puts well forth: pray, follow.
SICINIUS:
Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius?
BRUTUS:
He has no equal.
SICINIUS:
When we were chosen tribunes for the people,–
BRUTUS:
Mark’d you his lip and eyes?
SICINIUS:
Nay. but his taunts.
BRUTUS:
Being moved, he will not spare to gird the gods.
SICINIUS:
Be-mock the modest moon.
BRUTUS:
The present wars devour him: he is grown
Too proud to be so valiant.
SICINIUS:
Such a nature,
Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow
Which he treads on at noon: but I do wonder
His insolence can brook to be commanded
Under Cominius.
BRUTUS:
Fame, at the which he aims,
In whom already he’s well graced, can not
Better be held nor more attain’d than by
A place below the first: for what miscarries
Shall be the general’s fault, though he perform
To the utmost of a man, and giddy censure
Will then cry out of Marcius ‘O if he
Had borne the business!’
SICINIUS:
Besides, if things go well,
Opinion that so sticks on Marcius shall
Of his demerits rob Cominius.
BRUTUS:
Come:
Half all Cominius’ honours are to Marcius.
Though Marcius earned them not, and all his faults
To Marcius shall be honours, though indeed
In aught he merit not.
SICINIUS:
Let’s hence, and hear
How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion,
More than his singularity, he goes
Upon this present action.
BRUTUS:
Lets along.
First Senator:
So, your opinion is, Aufidius,
That they of Rome are entered in our counsels
And know how we proceed.
AUFIDIUS:
Is it not yours?
What ever have been thought on in this state,
That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome
Had circumvention? ‘Tis not four days gone
Since I heard thence; these are the words: I think
I have the letter here; yes, here it is.
‘They have press’d a power, but it is not known
Whether for east or west: the dearth is great;
The people mutinous; and it is rumour’d,
Cominius, Marcius your old enemy,
Who is of Rome worse hated than of you,
And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman,
These three lead on this preparation
Whither ’tis bent: most likely ’tis for you:
Consider of it.’
First Senator:
Our army’s in the field
We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready
To answer us.
AUFIDIUS:
Nor did you think it folly
To keep your great pretences veil’d till when
They needs must show themselves; which
in the hatching,
It seem’d, appear’d to Rome. By the discovery.
We shall be shorten’d in our aim, which was
To take in many towns ere almost Rome
Should know we were afoot.
Second Senator:
Noble Aufidius,
Take your commission; hie you to your bands:
Let us alone to guard Corioli:
If they set down before ‘s, for the remove
Bring your army; but, I think, you’ll find
They’ve not prepared for us.
AUFIDIUS:
O, doubt not that;
I speak from certainties. Nay, more,
Some parcels of their power are forth already,
And only hitherward. I leave your honours.
If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet,
‘Tis sworn between us we shall ever strike
Till one can do no more.
All:
The gods assist you!
AUFIDIUS:
And keep your honours safe!
First Senator:
Farewell.
Second Senator:
Farewell.
All:
Farewell.
VOLUMNIA:
I pray you, daughter, sing; or express yourself in a
more comfortable sort: if my son were my husband, I
should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he
won honour than in the embracements of his bed where
he would show most love. When yet he was but
tender-bodied and the only son of my womb, when
youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way, when
for a day of kings’ entreaties a mother should not
sell him an hour from her beholding, I, considering
how honour would become such a person. that it was
no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if
renown made it not stir, was pleased to let him seek
danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel
war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows
bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not
more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child
than now in first seeing he had proved himself a
man.
VIRGILIA:
But had he died in the business, madam; how then?
VOLUMNIA:
Then his good report should have been my son; I
therein would have found issue. Hear me profess
sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love
alike and none less dear than thine and my good
Marcius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their
country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.
Gentlewoman:
Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you.
VIRGILIA:
Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.
VOLUMNIA:
Indeed, you shall not.
Methinks I hear hither your husband’s drum,
See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair,
As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning him:
Methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus:
‘Come on, you cowards! you were got in fear,
Though you were born in Rome:’ his bloody brow
With his mail’d hand then wiping, forth he goes,
Like to a harvest-man that’s task’d to mow
Or all or lose his hire.
VIRGILIA:
His bloody brow! O Jupiter, no blood!
VOLUMNIA:
Away, you fool! it more becomes a man
Than gilt his trophy: the breasts of Hecuba,
When she did suckle Hector, look’d not lovelier
Than Hector’s forehead when it spit forth blood
At Grecian sword, contemning. Tell Valeria,
We are fit to bid her welcome.
VIRGILIA:
Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!
VOLUMNIA:
He’ll beat Aufidius ‘head below his knee
And tread upon his neck.
VALERIA:
My ladies both, good day to you.
VOLUMNIA:
Sweet madam.
VIRGILIA:
I am glad to see your ladyship.
VALERIA:
How do you both? you are manifest house-keepers.
What are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good
faith. How does your little son?
VIRGILIA:
I thank your ladyship; well, good madam.
VOLUMNIA:
He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, than
look upon his school-master.
VALERIA:
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 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 it, how he mammocked
it!
VOLUMNIA:
One on ‘s father’s moods.
VALERIA:
Indeed, la, ’tis a noble child.
VIRGILIA:
A crack, madam.
VALERIA:
Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play
the idle husewife with me this afternoon.
VIRGILIA:
No, good madam; I will not out of doors.
VALERIA:
Not out of doors!
VOLUMNIA:
She shall, she shall.
VIRGILIA:
Indeed, no, by your patience; I’ll not over the
threshold till my lord return from the wars.
VALERIA:
Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably: come,
you must go visit the good lady that lies in.
VIRGILIA:
I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with
my prayers; but I cannot go thither.
VOLUMNIA:
Why, I pray you?
VIRGILIA:
‘Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love.
VALERIA:
You would be another Penelope: yet, they say, all
the yarn she spun in Ulysses’ absence did but fill
Ithaca full of moths. Come; I would your cambric
were sensible as your finger, that you might leave
pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us.
VIRGILIA:
No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth.
VALERIA:
In truth, la, go with me; and I’ll tell you
excellent news of your husband.
VIRGILIA:
O, good madam, there can be none yet.
VALERIA:
Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from
him last night.
VIRGILIA:
Indeed, madam?
VALERIA:
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.
VIRGILIA:
Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every
thing hereafter.
VOLUMNIA:
Let her alone, lady: as she is now, she will but
disease our better mirth.
VALERIA:
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.
VIRGILIA:
No, at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish
you much mirth.
VALERIA:
Well, then, farewell.
MARCIUS:
Yonder comes news. A wager they have met.
LARTIUS:
My horse to yours, no.
MARCIUS:
‘Tis done.
LARTIUS:
Agreed.
MARCIUS:
Say, has our general met the enemy?
Messenger:
They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet.
LARTIUS:
So, the good horse is mine.
MARCIUS:
I’ll buy him of you.
LARTIUS:
No, I’ll nor sell nor give him: lend you him I will
For half a hundred years. Summon the town.
MARCIUS:
How far off lie these armies?
Messenger:
Within this mile and half.
MARCIUS:
Then shall we hear their ‘larum, and they ours.
Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work,
That we with smoking swords may march from hence,
To help our fielded friends! Come, blow thy blast.
Tutus Aufidius, is he within your walls?
First Senator:
No, nor a man that fears you less than he,
That’s lesser than a little.
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.
Hark you. far off!
There is Aufidius; list, what work he makes
Amongst your cloven army.
MARCIUS:
O, they are at it!
LARTIUS:
Their noise be our instruction. Ladders, ho!
MARCIUS:
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.
MARCIUS:
All the contagion of the south light on you,
You shames of Rome! you herd of–Boils and plagues
Plaster you o’er, that you may be abhorr’d
Further than seen and one infect another
Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese,
That bear the shapes of men, how have you run
From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell!
All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale
With flight and agued fear! Mend and charge home,
Or, by the fires of heaven, I’ll leave the foe
And make my wars on you: look to’t: come on;
If you’ll stand fast, we’ll beat them to their wives,
As they us to our trenches followed.
So, now the gates are ope: now prove good seconds:
‘Tis for the followers fortune widens them,
Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like.
First Soldier:
Fool-hardiness; not I.
Second Soldier:
Nor I.
First Soldier:
See, they have shut him in.
All:
To the pot, I warrant him.
LARTIUS:
What is become of Marcius?
All:
Slain, sir, doubtless.
First Soldier:
Following the fliers at the very heels,
With them he enters; who, upon the sudden,
Clapp’d to their gates: he is himself alone,
To answer all the city.
LARTIUS:
O noble fellow!
Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword,
And, when it bows, stands up. Thou art left, Marcius:
A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art,
Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier
Even to Cato’s wish, not fierce and terrible
Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks and
The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds,
Thou madst thine enemies shake, as if the world
Were feverous and did tremble.
First Soldier:
Look, sir.
LARTIUS:
O,’tis Marcius!
Let’s fetch him off, or make remain alike.
First Roman:
This will I carry to Rome.
Second Roman:
And I this.
Third Roman:
A murrain on’t! I took this for silver.
MARCIUS:
See here these movers that do prize their hours
At a crack’d drachm! Cushions, leaden spoons,
Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would
Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves,
Ere yet the fight be done, pack up: down with them!
And hark, what noise the general makes! To him!
There is the man of my soul’s hate, Aufidius,
Piercing our Romans: then, valiant Titus, take
Convenient numbers to make good the city;
Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste
To help Cominius.
LARTIUS:
Worthy sir, thou bleed’st;
Thy exercise hath been too violent for
A second course of fight.
MARCIUS:
Sir, praise me not;
My work hath yet not warm’d me: fare you well:
The blood I drop is rather physical
Than dangerous to me: to Aufidius thus
I will appear, and fight.
LARTIUS:
Now the fair goddess, Fortune,
Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms
Misguide thy opposers’ swords! Bold gentleman,
Prosperity be thy page!
MARCIUS:
Thy friend no less
Than those she placeth highest! So, farewell.
LARTIUS:
Thou worthiest Marcius!
Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place;
Call thither all the officers o’ the town,
Where they shall know our mind: away!
COMINIUS:
Breathe you, my friends: well fought;
we are come off
Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands,
Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, sirs,
We shall be charged again. Whiles we have struck,
By interims and conveying gusts we have heard
The charges of our friends. Ye Roman gods!
Lead their successes as we wish our own,
That both our powers, with smiling
fronts encountering,
May give you thankful sacrifice.
Thy news?
Messenger:
The citizens of Corioli have issued,
And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle:
I saw our party to their trenches driven,
And then I came away.
COMINIUS:
Though thou speak’st truth,
Methinks thou speak’st not well.
How long is’t since?
Messenger:
Above an hour, my lord.
COMINIUS:
‘Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums:
How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour,
And bring thy news so late?
Messenger:
Spies of the Volsces
Held me in chase, that I was forced to wheel
Three or four miles about, else had I, sir,
Half an hour since brought my report.
COMINIUS:
Who’s yonder,
That does appear as he were flay’d? O gods
He has the stamp of Marcius; and I have
Before-time seen him thus.
MARCIUS:
COMINIUS:
The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabour
More than I know the sound of Marcius’ tongue
From every meaner man.
MARCIUS:
Come I too late?
COMINIUS:
Ay, if you come not in the blood of others,
But mantled in your own.
MARCIUS:
O, let me clip ye
In arms as sound as when I woo’d, in heart
As merry as when our nuptial day was done,
And tapers burn’d to bedward!
COMINIUS:
Flower of warriors,
How is it with Titus Lartius?
MARCIUS:
As with a man busied about decrees:
Condemning some to death, and some to exile;
Ransoming him, or pitying, threatening the other;
Holding Corioli in the name of Rome,
Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash,
To let him slip at will.
COMINIUS:
Where is that slave
Which told me they had beat you to your trenches?
Where is he? call him hither.
MARCIUS:
Let him alone;
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.
COMINIUS:
But how prevail’d you?
MARCIUS:
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?
COMINIUS:
Marcius,
We have at disadvantage fought and did
Retire to win our purpose.
MARCIUS:
How lies their battle? know you on which side
They have placed their men of trust?
COMINIUS:
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.
MARCIUS:
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.
COMINIUS:
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.
MARCIUS:
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.
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
Able to bear against the great Aufidius
A shield as hard as his. A certain number,
Though thanks to all, must I select
from all: the rest
Shall bear the business in some other fight,
As cause will be obey’d. Please you to march;
And four shall quickly draw out my command,
Which men are best inclined.
COMINIUS:
March on, my fellows:
Make good this ostentation, and you shall
Divide in all with us.
LARTIUS:
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.
Lieutenant:
Fear not our care, sir.
LARTIUS:
Hence, and shut your gates upon’s.
Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct us.
MARCIUS:
I’ll fight with none but thee; for I do hate thee
Worse than a promise-breaker.
AUFIDIUS:
We hate alike:
Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor
More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot.
MARCIUS:
Let the first budger die the other’s slave,
And the gods doom him after!
AUFIDIUS:
If I fly, Marcius,
Holloa me like a hare.
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.
AUFIDIUS:
Wert thou the Hector
That was the whip of your bragg’d progeny,
Thou shouldst not scape me here.
Officious, and not valiant, you have shamed me
In your condemned seconds.
COMINIUS:
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.
LARTIUS:
O general,
Here is the steed, we the caparison:
Hadst thou beheld–
MARCIUS:
Pray now, no more: my mother,
Who has a