The Tragedy of Coriolanus by William Shakespeare (scary books to read txt) 📖

before Rome. The Guards at their station.

[Enter to them MENENIUS.]

FIRST GUARD. Stay: whence are you?

SECOND GUARD. Stand, and go back.

MENENIUS. You guard like men; 'tis well: but, by your leave, I am an officer of state, and come To speak with Coriolanus.

FIRST GUARD. From whence?

MENENIUS. From Rome.

FIRST GUARD. You may not pass; you must return: our general Will no more hear from thence.

SECOND GUARD. You'll see your Rome embrac'd with fire before You'll speak with Coriolanus.

MENENIUS. 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 touch'd your ears: it is Menenius.

FIRST GUARD. Be it so; go back: the virtue of your name Is not here passable.

MENENIUS. I tell thee, fellow, Thy general is my lover: I have been The book of his good acts, whence men have read His fame unparallel'd, haply 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 stamp'd the leasing: therefore, fellow, I must have leave to pass.

FIRST GUARD. Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies in his behalf as you have uttered words in your own, you should not pass here: no, though it were as virtuous to lie as to live chastely. Therefore, go back.

MENENIUS. Pr'ythee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius, always factionary on the party of your general.

SECOND GUARD. Howsoever you have been his liar, - as you say you have, I am one that, telling true under him, must say you cannot pass. Therefore go back.

MENENIUS. Has he dined, canst thou tell? For I would not speak with him till after dinner.

FIRST GUARD. You are a Roman, are you?

MENENIUS. I am as thy general is.

FIRST GUARD. Then you should hate Rome, as he does. Can you, when you have pushed out your gates the very defender of them, and in a violent popular ignorance, given your enemy your shield, think to front his revenges with the easy groans of old women, the virginal palms of your daughters, or with the palsied intercession of such a decayed dotant as you seem to be? Can you think to blow out the intended fire your city is ready to flame in, with such weak breath as this? No, you are deceived; therefore back to Rome, and prepare for your execution: you are condemned; our general has sworn you out of reprieve and pardon.

MENENIUS. Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here he would use me with estimation.

SECOND GUARD. Come, my captain knows you not.

MENENIUS. I mean thy general.

FIRST GUARD. My general cares not for you. Back, I say; go, lest I let forth your half pint of blood; - back; that's the utmost of your having: - back.

MENENIUS. Nay, but fellow, fellow, -

[Enter CORIOLANUS with AUFIDIUS.]

CORIOLANUS. What's the matter?

MENENIUS. 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 standest not i' the state of hanging, or of some death more long in spectatorship and crueller in suffering; behold now presently, and swoon for what's to come upon thee. - 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! 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.

CORIOLANUS. Away!

MENENIUS. How! away!

CORIOLANUS. Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs Are servanted to others: though I owe My revenge properly, my remission lies In Volscian breasts. That we have been familiar, Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison, rather Than pity note how much. - Therefore be gone. Mine ears against your suits are stronger than Your gates against my force. Yet, for I lov'd thee, Take this along; I writ it for thy sake,

[Gives a letter.]

And would have sent it. Another word, Menenius, I will not hear thee speak. - This man, Aufidius, Was my beloved in Rome: yet thou behold'st!

AUFIDIUS. You keep a constant temper.

[Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS.]

FIRST GUARD. Now, sir, is your name Menenius?

SECOND GUARD. 'Tis a spell, you see, of much power: you know the way home again.

FIRST GUARD. Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your greatness back?

SECOND GUARD. What cause, do you think, I have to swoon?

MENENIUS. I neither care for the world nor your general; for such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, y'are 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!

[Exit.]

FIRST GUARD. A noble fellow, I warrant him.

SECOND GUARD. The worthy fellow is our general: he is the rock, the oak not to be wind-shaken.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE III. The tent of CORIOLANUS.

[Enter CORIOLANUS, AUFIDIUS, and others.]

CORIOLANUS. We will before the walls of Rome to-morrow Set down our host. - My partner in this action, You must report to the Volscian lords how plainly I have borne this business.

AUFIDIUS. Only their ends You have respected; stopped your ears against The general suit of Rome; never admitted A private whisper, no, not with such friends That thought them sure of you.

CORIOLANUS. This last old man, Whom with crack'd heart I have sent to Rome, Lov'd me above the measure of a father; Nay, godded me indeed. Their latest refuge Was to send him; for whose old love I have, - Though I show'd sourly to him, - once more offer'd The first conditions, which they did refuse, And cannot now accept, to grace him only, That thought he could do more, a very little I have yielded to: fresh embassies and suits, Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafter Will I lend ear to. -

[Shout within.]

Ha! what shout is this? Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow In the same time 'tis made? I will not.

[Enter, in mourning habits, VIRGILIA, VOLUMNIA, leading YOUNG MARCIUS, VALERIA, and attendants.]

My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mould Wherein this trunk was fram'd, and in her hand The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affection! All bond and privilege of nature, break! Let it be virtuous to be obstinate. - What is that curt'sy worth? or those doves' eyes, Which can make gods forsworn? - I melt, and am not Of stronger earth than others. - My mother bows, As if Olympus to a molehill should In supplication nod: and my young boy Hath an aspect of intercession which Great nature cries "Deny not.' - Let the Volsces Plough Rome and harrow Italy: I'll never Be such a gosling to obey instinct; but stand, As if a man were author of himself, And knew no other kin.

VIRGILIA. My lord and husband!

CORIOLANUS. These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome.

VIRGILIA. The sorrow that delivers us thus chang'd Makes you think so.

CORIOLANUS. Like a dull actor now, I have forgot my part and I am out, Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh, Forgive my tyranny; but do not say, For that, 'Forgive our Romans.' - O, a kiss Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge; Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip Hath virgin'd it e'er since. - You gods! I prate, And the most noble mother of the world Leave unsaluted: sink, my knee, i' the earth;

[Kneels.]

Of thy deep duty more impression show Than that of common sons.

VOLUMNIA. O, stand up bless'd! Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint, I kneel before thee; and unproperly Show duty, as mistaken all this while Between the child and parent.

[Kneels.]

CORIOLANUS. What is this? Your knees to me? to your corrected son? Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun,; Murdering impossibility, to make What cannot be, slight work.

VOLUMNIA. Thou art my warrior; I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady?

CORIOLANUS. The noble sister of Publicola, The moon of Rome; chaste as the icicle That's curded by the frost from purest snow, And hangs on Dian's temple: - dear Valeria!

VOLUMNIA. This is a poor epitome of yours, Which, by the interpretation of full time, May show like all yourself.

CORIOLANUS. The god of soldiers, With the consent of supreme Jove, inform Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou mayst prove To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' the wars Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw, And saving those that eye thee!

VOLUMNIA. Your knee, sirrah.

CORIOLANUS. That's my brave boy.

VOLUMNIA. Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself, Are suitors to you.

CORIOLANUS. I beseech you, peace: Or, if you'd ask, remember this before, - The thing I have forsworn to grant may never Be held by you denials. Do not bid me Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate Again with Rome's mechanics. - Tell me not Wherein I seem unnatural: desire not To allay my rages and revenges with Your colder reasons.

VOLUMNIA. O, no more, no more! You have said you will not grant us anything; For we have nothing else to ask but that Which you deny already: yet we will ask; That, if you fail in our request, the blame May hang upon your hardness; therefore hear us.

CORIOLANUS. Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark: for we'll Hear nought from Rome in private. - Your request?

VOLUMNIA. Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment And state of bodies would bewray what life We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself, How more unfortunate than all living women Are we come hither: since that thy sight, which should Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts, Constrains them weep, and shake with fear and sorrow; Making the mother, wife, and child, to see The son, the husband, and the father, tearing His country's bowels out. And to poor we, Thine enmity's most capital: thou barr'st us Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort That all but we enjoy; for how can we, Alas, how can we for our country pray, Whereto we are bound, - together with thy victory, Whereto we are bound? alack, or we must lose The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person, Our comfort in the country. We must find An evident calamity, though we had Our wish, which