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CORIOLANUS: O, You have, I know, petition'd all the gods For my prosperity!

VOLUMNIA: Nay, my good soldier, up; My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and By deed-achieving honour newly named,-- What is it?--Coriolanus must I call thee?-- But O, thy wife!

CORIOLANUS: My gracious silence, hail! Wouldst thou have laugh'd had I come coffin'd home, That weep'st to see me triumph? Ay, my dear, Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear, And mothers that lack sons.

MENENIUS: Now, the gods crown thee!

CORIOLANUS: And live you yet? O my sweet lady, pardon.

VOLUMNIA: I know not where to turn: O, welcome home: And welcome, general: and ye're welcome all.

MENENIUS: A hundred thousand welcomes. I could weep And I could laugh, I am light and heavy. Welcome. A curse begin at very root on's heart, That is not glad to see thee! You are three That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith of men, We have some old crab-trees here at home that will not Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors: We call a nettle but a nettle and The faults of fools but folly.

COMINIUS: Ever right.

CORIOLANUS: Menenius ever, ever.

Herald: Give way there, and go on!

CORIOLANUS:

VOLUMNIA: I have lived To see inherited my very wishes And the buildings of my fancy: only There's one thing wanting, which I doubt not but Our Rome will cast upon thee.

CORIOLANUS: Know, good mother, I had rather be their servant in my way, Than sway with them in theirs.

COMINIUS: On, to the Capitol!

BRUTUS: All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights Are spectacled to see him: your prattling nurse Into a rapture lets her baby cry While she chats him: the kitchen malkin pins Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck, Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks, windows, Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges horsed With variable complexions, all agreeing In earnestness to see him: seld-shown flamens Do press among the popular throngs and puff To win a vulgar station: or veil'd dames Commit the war of white and damask in Their nicely-gawded cheeks to the wanton spoil Of Phoebus' burning kisses: such a pother As if that whatsoever god who leads him Were slily crept into his human powers And gave him graceful posture.

SICINIUS: On the sudden, I warrant him consul.

BRUTUS: Then our office may, During his power, go sleep.

SICINIUS: He cannot temperately transport his honours From where he should begin and end, but will Lose those he hath won.

BRUTUS: In that there's comfort.

SICINIUS: Doubt not The commoners, for whom we stand, but they Upon their ancient malice will forget With the least cause these his new honours, which That he will give them make I as little question As he is proud to do't.

BRUTUS: I heard him swear, Were he to stand for consul, never would he Appear i' the market-place nor on him put The napless vesture of humility; Nor showing, as the manner is, his wounds To the people, beg their stinking breaths.

SICINIUS: 'Tis right.

BRUTUS: It was his word: O, he would miss it rather Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him, And the desire of the nobles.

SICINIUS: I wish no better Than have him hold that purpose and to put it In execution.

BRUTUS: 'Tis most like he will.

SICINIUS: It shall be to him then as our good wills, A sure destruction.

BRUTUS: So it must fall out To him or our authorities. For an end, We must suggest the people in what hatred He still hath held them; that to's power he would Have made them mules, silenced their pleaders and Dispropertied their freedoms, holding them, In human action and capacity, Of no more soul nor fitness for the world Than camels in the war, who have their provand Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows For sinking under them.

SICINIUS: This, as you say, suggested At some time when his soaring insolence Shall touch the people--which time shall not want, If he be put upon 't; and that's as easy As to set dogs on sheep--will be his fire To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze Shall darken him for ever.

BRUTUS: What's the matter?

Messenger: You are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis thought That Marcius shall be consul: I have seen the dumb men throng to see him and The blind to bear him speak: matrons flung gloves, Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers, Upon him as he pass'd: the nobles bended, As to Jove's statue, and the commons made A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts: I never saw the like.

BRUTUS: Let's to the Capitol; And carry with us ears and eyes for the time, But hearts for the event.

SICINIUS: Have with you.

First Officer: Come, come, they are almost here. How many stand for consulships?

Second Officer: Three, they say: but 'tis thought of every one Coriolanus will carry it.

First Officer: That's a brave fellow; but he's vengeance proud, and loves not the common people.

Second Officer: Faith, there had been many great men that have flattered the people, who ne'er loved them; and there be many that they have loved, they know not wherefore: so that, if they love they know not why, they hate upon no better a ground: therefore, for Coriolanus neither to care whether they love or hate him manifests the true knowledge he has in their disposition; and out of his noble carelessness lets them plainly see't.

First Officer: If he did not care whether he had their love or no, he waved indifferently 'twixt doing them neither good nor harm: but he seeks their hate with greater devotion than can render it him; and leaves nothing undone that may fully discover him their opposite. Now, to seem to affect the malice and displeasure of the people is as bad as that which he dislikes, to flatter them for their love.

Second Officer: He hath deserved worthily of his country: and his ascent is not by such easy degrees as those who, having been supple and courteous to the people, bonneted, without any further deed to have them at an into their estimation and report: but he hath so planted his honours in their eyes, and his actions in their hearts, that for their tongues to be silent, and not confess so much, were a kind of ingrateful injury; to report otherwise, were a malice, that, giving itself the lie, would pluck reproof and rebuke from every ear that heard it.

First Officer: No more of him; he is a worthy man: make way, they are coming.

MENENIUS: Having determined of the Volsces and To send for Titus Lartius, it remains, As the main point of this our after-meeting, To gratify his noble service that Hath thus stood for his country: therefore, please you, Most reverend and grave elders, to desire The present consul, and last general In our well-found successes, to report A little of that worthy work perform'd By Caius Marcius Coriolanus, whom We met here both to thank and to remember With honours like himself.

First Senator: Speak, good Cominius: Leave nothing out for length, and make us think Rather our state's defective for requital Than we to stretch it out. Masters o' the people, We do request your kindest ears, and after, Your loving motion toward the common body, To yield what passes here.

SICINIUS: We are convented Upon a pleasing treaty, and have hearts Inclinable to honour and advance The theme of our assembly.

BRUTUS: Which the rather We shall be blest to do, if he remember A kinder value of the people than He hath hereto prized them at.

MENENIUS: That's off, that's off; I would you rather had been silent. Please you To hear Cominius speak?

BRUTUS: Most willingly; But yet my caution was more pertinent Than the rebuke you give it.

MENENIUS: He loves your people But tie him not to be their bedfellow. Worthy Cominius, speak. Nay, keep your place.

First Senator: Sit, Coriolanus; never shame to hear What you have nobly done.

CORIOLANUS: Your horror's pardon: I had rather have my wounds to heal again Than hear say how I got them.

BRUTUS: Sir, I hope My words disbench'd you not.

CORIOLANUS: No, sir: yet oft, When blows have made me stay, I fled from words. You soothed not, therefore hurt not: but your people, I love them as they weigh.

MENENIUS: Pray now, sit down.

CORIOLANUS: I had rather have one scratch my head i' the sun When the alarum were struck than idly sit To hear my nothings monster'd.

MENENIUS: Masters of the people, Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter-- That's thousand to one good one--when you now see He had rather venture all his limbs for honour Than one on's ears to hear it? Proceed, Cominius.

COMINIUS: I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus Should not be utter'd feebly. It is held That valour is the chiefest virtue, and Most dignifies the haver: if it be, The man I speak of cannot in the world Be singly counterpoised. At sixteen years, When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought Beyond the mark of others: our then dictator, Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight, When with his Amazonian chin he drove The bristled lips before him: be bestrid An o'er-press'd Roman and i' the consul's view Slew three opposers: Tarquin's self he met, And struck him on his knee: in that day's feats, When he might act the woman in the scene, He proved best man i' the field, and for his meed Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age Man-enter'd thus, he waxed like a sea, And in the brunt of seventeen battles since He lurch'd all swords of the garland. For this last, Before and in Corioli, let me say, I cannot speak him home: he stopp'd the fliers; And by his rare example made the coward Turn terror into sport: as weeds before A vessel under sail, so men obey'd And fell below his stem: his sword, death's stamp, Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot He was a thing of blood, whose every motion Was timed with dying cries: alone he enter'd The mortal gate of the city, which he painted With shunless destiny; aidless came off, And with a sudden reinforcement struck Corioli like a planet: now all's his: When, by and by, the din of war gan pierce His ready sense; then straight his doubled spirit Re-quicken'd what in flesh was fatigate, And to the battle came he; where he did Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if 'Twere a perpetual spoil: and till we call'd Both field and city ours, he never stood To ease his breast with panting.

MENENIUS: Worthy man!

First Senator: He cannot but with measure fit the honours Which we devise him.

COMINIUS: Our spoils he kick'd at, And look'd upon things precious as they were The common muck of the world: he covets less Than misery itself would give; rewards His deeds with doing them, and is content To spend the time to end it.

MENENIUS: He's right noble: Let him be call'd for.

First Senator: Call Coriolanus.

Officer: He doth appear.

MENENIUS: The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleased To make thee consul.

CORIOLANUS: I do owe them still My life and services.

MENENIUS: It then remains That you do speak to the people.

CORIOLANUS: I do beseech you, Let me o'erleap that custom, for I cannot Put on the gown, stand naked and entreat them, For my wounds' sake, to give their suffrage: please you That I may pass this doing.

SICINIUS: Sir, the people Must have their voices; neither will they bate One jot of ceremony.

MENENIUS: Put them not to't: Pray you, go fit you to the custom and Take to you, as your predecessors have, Your honour with your form.

CORIOLANUS: It is apart That I shall blush in acting, and might well Be taken from the people.

BRUTUS: Mark you that?

CORIOLANUS: To brag unto them, thus I did, and thus; Show them the unaching scars which I should hide, As if I had received them for the hire Of their breath only!

MENENIUS: Do not stand upon't. We recommend to you, tribunes of the people, Our purpose to them: and to our noble consul Wish we all joy and honour.

Senators: To Coriolanus come all joy and honour!

BRUTUS: You see how he intends to use the people.

SICINIUS: May they perceive's intent! He will require them, As if he did contemn what he requested Should be in them to give.

BRUTUS: Come, we'll inform them Of our proceedings here: on the marketplace, I know, they do attend us.

First Citizen: Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him.

Second Citizen: We may, sir, if we will.

Third Citizen: We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a power that we have no power to do; for if he show us his wounds and tell us his deeds, we are to put our tongues into those wounds and speak for them; so, if he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is monstrous, and for the multitude to be ingrateful, were to make a monster of the multitude: of the which we being members, should bring ourselves to be monstrous members.

First Citizen: And to make us no better thought of, a little help will serve; for once we stood up about the corn, he himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude.

Third Citizen: We have been called so of many; not that our heads are some brown, some black, some auburn, some bald, but that our wits are so diversely coloured: and truly I think if all our wits were to issue out of one skull, they would fly east, west, north, south, and their consent of one direct way should be at once to all the points o' the compass.

Second Citizen: Think you so? Which way do you judge my wit would fly?

Third Citizen: Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another man's will;'tis strongly wedged up in a block-head, but if it were at liberty, 'twould, sure, southward.

Second Citizen: Why that way?

Third Citizen: To lose itself in a fog, where being three parts melted away with rotten dews, the fourth would return for conscience sake, to help to get thee a wife.

Second Citizen: You are never without your tricks: you may, you may.

Third Citizen: Are you all resolved to give your voices? But that's no matter, the greater part carries it. I say, if he would incline to the people, there was never a worthier man. Here he comes, and in the gown of humility: mark his behavior. We are not to stay all together, but to come by him where he stands, by ones, by twos, and by threes. He's to make his requests by particulars; wherein every one of us has a single honour, in giving him our own voices with our own tongues: therefore follow me, and I direct you how you shall go by him.

All: Content, content.

MENENIUS: O sir, you are not right: have you not known The worthiest men have done't?

CORIOLANUS: What must I say? 'I Pray, sir'--Plague upon't! I cannot bring My tongue to such a pace:--'Look, sir, my wounds! I got them in my country's service, when Some certain of your brethren roar'd and ran From the noise of our own drums.'

MENENIUS: O me, the gods! You must not speak of that: you must desire them To think upon you.

CORIOLANUS: Think upon me! hang 'em! I would they would forget me, like the virtues Which our divines lose by 'em.

MENENIUS: You'll mar all: I'll leave you: pray you, speak to 'em, I pray you, In wholesome manner.

CORIOLANUS: Bid them wash their faces And keep their teeth clean. So, here comes a brace. You know the cause, air, of my standing here.

Third Citizen: We do, sir; tell us what hath brought you to't.

CORIOLANUS: Mine own desert.

Second Citizen: Your own desert!

CORIOLANUS: Ay, but not mine own desire.

Third Citizen: How not your own desire?

CORIOLANUS: No, sir,'twas never my desire yet to trouble the poor with begging.

Third Citizen: You must think, if we give you any thing, we hope to gain by you.

CORIOLANUS: Well then, I pray, your price o' the consulship?