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MENENIUS: O, he's a limb that has but a disease; Mortal, to cut it off; to cure it, easy. What has he done to Rome that's worthy death? Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost-- Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he hath, By many an ounce--he dropp'd it for his country; And what is left, to lose it by his country, Were to us all, that do't and suffer it, A brand to the end o' the world.

SICINIUS: This is clean kam.

BRUTUS: Merely awry: when he did love his country, It honour'd him.

MENENIUS: The service of the foot Being once gangrened, is not then respected For what before it was.

BRUTUS: We'll hear no more. Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence: Lest his infection, being of catching nature, Spread further.

MENENIUS: One word more, one word. This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find The harm of unscann'd swiftness, will too late Tie leaden pounds to's heels. Proceed by process; Lest parties, as he is beloved, break out, And sack great Rome with Romans.

BRUTUS: If it were so,--

SICINIUS: What do ye talk? Have we not had a taste of his obedience? Our aediles smote? ourselves resisted? Come.

MENENIUS: Consider this: he has been bred i' the wars Since he could draw a sword, and is ill school'd In bolted language; meal and bran together He throws without distinction. Give me leave, I'll go to him, and undertake to bring him Where he shall answer, by a lawful form, In peace, to his utmost peril.

First Senator: Noble tribunes, It is the humane way: the other course Will prove too bloody, and the end of it Unknown to the beginning.

SICINIUS: Noble Menenius, Be you then as the people's officer. Masters, lay down your weapons.

BRUTUS: Go not home.

SICINIUS: Meet on the market-place. We'll attend you there: Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed In our first way.

MENENIUS: I'll bring him to you. Let me desire your company: he must come, Or what is worst will follow.

First Senator: Pray you, let's to him.

CORIOLANUS: Let them puff all about mine ears, present me Death on the wheel or at wild horses' heels, Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, That the precipitation might down stretch Below the beam of sight, yet will I still Be thus to them.

A Patrician: You do the nobler.

CORIOLANUS: I muse my mother Does not approve me further, who was wont To call them woollen vassals, things created To buy and sell with groats, to show bare heads In congregations, to yawn, be still and wonder, When one but of my ordinance stood up To speak of peace or war. I talk of you: Why did you wish me milder? would you have me False to my nature? Rather say I play The man I am.

VOLUMNIA: O, sir, sir, sir, I would have had you put your power well on, Before you had worn it out.

CORIOLANUS: Let go.

VOLUMNIA: You might have been enough the man you are, With striving less to be so; lesser had been The thwartings of your dispositions, if You had not show'd them how ye were disposed Ere they lack'd power to cross you.

CORIOLANUS: Let them hang.

A Patrician: Ay, and burn too.

MENENIUS: Come, come, you have been too rough, something too rough; You must return and mend it.

First Senator: There's no remedy; Unless, by not so doing, our good city Cleave in the midst, and perish.

VOLUMNIA: Pray, be counsell'd: I have a heart as little apt as yours, But yet a brain that leads my use of anger To better vantage.

MENENIUS: Well said, noble woman? Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but that The violent fit o' the time craves it as physic For the whole state, I would put mine armour on, Which I can scarcely bear.

CORIOLANUS: What must I do?

MENENIUS: Return to the tribunes.

CORIOLANUS: Well, what then? what then?

MENENIUS: Repent what you have spoke.

CORIOLANUS: For them! I cannot do it to the gods; Must I then do't to them?

VOLUMNIA: You are too absolute; Though therein you can never be too noble, But when extremities speak. I have heard you say, Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends, I' the war do grow together: grant that, and tell me, In peace what each of them by the other lose, That they combine not there.

CORIOLANUS: Tush, tush!

MENENIUS: A good demand.

VOLUMNIA: If it be honour in your wars to seem The same you are not, which, for your best ends, You adopt your policy, how is it less or worse, That it shall hold companionship in peace With honour, as in war, since that to both It stands in like request?

CORIOLANUS: Why force you this?

VOLUMNIA: Because that now it lies you on to speak To the people; not by your own instruction, Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you, But with such words that are but rooted in Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables Of no allowance to your bosom's truth. Now, this no more dishonours you at all Than to take in a town with gentle words, Which else would put you to your fortune and The hazard of much blood. I would dissemble with my nature where My fortunes and my friends at stake required I should do so in honour: I am in this, Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles; And you will rather show our general louts How you can frown than spend a fawn upon 'em, For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard Of what that want might ruin.

MENENIUS: Noble lady! Come, go with us; speak fair: you may salve so, Not what is dangerous present, but the loss Of what is past.

VOLUMNIA: I prithee now, my son, Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand; And thus far having stretch'd it--here be with them-- Thy knee bussing the stones--for in such business Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant More learned than the ears--waving thy head, Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart, Now humble as the ripest mulberry That will not hold the handling: or say to them, Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils Hast not the soft way which, thou dost confess, Were fit for thee to use as they to claim, In asking their good loves, but thou wilt frame Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far As thou hast power and person.

MENENIUS: This but done, Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours; For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free As words to little purpose.

VOLUMNIA: Prithee now, Go, and be ruled: although I know thou hadst rather Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf Than flatter him in a bower. Here is Cominius.

COMINIUS: I have been i' the market-place; and, sir,'tis fit You make strong party, or defend yourself By calmness or by absence: all's in anger.

MENENIUS: Only fair speech.

COMINIUS: I think 'twill serve, if he Can thereto frame his spirit.

VOLUMNIA: He must, and will Prithee now, say you will, and go about it.

CORIOLANUS: Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce? Must I with base tongue give my noble heart A lie that it must bear? Well, I will do't: Yet, were there but this single plot to lose, This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grind it And throw't against the wind. To the market-place! You have put me now to such a part which never I shall discharge to the life.

COMINIUS: Come, come, we'll prompt you.

VOLUMNIA: I prithee now, sweet son, as thou hast said My praises made thee first a soldier, so, To have my praise for this, perform a part Thou hast not done before.

CORIOLANUS: Well, I must do't: Away, my disposition, and possess me Some harlot's spirit! my throat of war be turn'd, Which quired with my drum, into a pipe Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice That babies lulls asleep! the smiles of knaves Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys' tears take up The glasses of my sight! a beggar's tongue Make motion through my lips, and my arm'd knees, Who bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his That hath received an alms! I will not do't, Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth And by my body's action teach my mind A most inherent baseness.

VOLUMNIA: At thy choice, then: To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour Than thou of them. Come all to ruin; let Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear Thy dangerous stoutness, for I mock at death With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it from me, But owe thy pride thyself.

CORIOLANUS: Pray, be content: Mother, I am going to the market-place; Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves, Cog their hearts from them, and come home beloved Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going: Commend me to my wife. I'll return consul; Or never trust to what my tongue can do I' the way of flattery further.

VOLUMNIA: Do your will.

COMINIUS: Away! the tribunes do attend you: arm yourself To answer mildly; for they are prepared With accusations, as I hear, more strong Than are upon you yet.

CORIOLANUS: The word is 'mildly.' Pray you, let us go: Let them accuse me by invention, I Will answer in mine honour.

MENENIUS: Ay, but mildly.

CORIOLANUS: Well, mildly be it then. Mildly!

BRUTUS: In this point charge him home, that he affects Tyrannical power: if he evade us there, Enforce him with his envy to the people, And that the spoil got on the Antiates Was ne'er distributed. What, will he come?

AEdile: He's coming.

BRUTUS: How accompanied?

AEdile: With old Menenius, and those senators That always favour'd him.

SICINIUS: Have you a catalogue Of all the voices that we have procured Set down by the poll?

AEdile: I have; 'tis ready.

SICINIUS: Have you collected them by tribes?

AEdile: I have.

SICINIUS: Assemble presently the people hither; And when they bear me say 'It shall be so I' the right and strength o' the commons,' be it either For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them If I say fine, cry 'Fine;' if death, cry 'Death.' Insisting on the old prerogative And power i' the truth o' the cause.

AEdile: I shall inform them.

BRUTUS: And when such time they have begun to cry, Let them not cease, but with a din confused Enforce the present execution Of what we chance to sentence.

AEdile: Very well.

SICINIUS: Make them be strong and ready for this hint, When we shall hap to give 't them.

BRUTUS: Go about it. Put him to choler straight: he hath been used Ever to conquer, and to have his worth Of contradiction: being once chafed, he cannot Be rein'd again to temperance; then he speaks What's in his heart; and that is there which looks With us to break his neck.

SICINIUS: Well, here he comes.

MENENIUS: Calmly, I do beseech you.

CORIOLANUS: Ay, as an ostler, that for the poorest piece Will bear the knave by the volume. The honour'd gods Keep Rome in safety, and the chairs of justice Supplied with worthy men! plant love among 's! Throng our large temples with the shows of peace, And not our streets with war!

First Senator: Amen, amen.

MENENIUS: A noble wish.

SICINIUS: Draw near, ye people.

AEdile: List to your tribunes. Audience: peace, I say!

CORIOLANUS: First, hear me speak.

Both Tribunes: Well, say. Peace, ho!

CORIOLANUS: Shall I be charged no further than this present? Must all determine here?

SICINIUS: I do demand, If you submit you to the people's voices, Allow their officers and are content To suffer lawful censure for such faults As shall be proved upon you?

CORIOLANUS: I am content.

MENENIUS: Lo, citizens, he says he is content: The warlike service he has done, consider; think Upon the wounds his body bears, which show Like graves i' the holy churchyard.

CORIOLANUS: Scratches with briers, Scars to move laughter only.

MENENIUS: Consider further, That when he speaks not like a citizen, You find him like a soldier: do not take His rougher accents for malicious sounds, But, as I say, such as become a soldier, Rather than envy you.

COMINIUS: Well, well, no more.

CORIOLANUS: What is the matter That being pass'd for consul with full voice, I am so dishonour'd that the very hour You take it off again?

SICINIUS: Answer to us.

CORIOLANUS: Say, then: 'tis true, I ought so.

SICINIUS: We charge you, that you have contrived to take From Rome all season'd office and to wind Yourself into a power tyrannical; For which you are a traitor to the people.

CORIOLANUS: How! traitor!

MENENIUS: Nay, temperately; your promise.

CORIOLANUS: The fires i' the lowest hell fold-in the people! Call me their traitor! Thou injurious tribune! Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, In thy hand clutch'd as many millions, in Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say 'Thou liest' unto thee with a voice as free As I do pray the gods.

SICINIUS: Mark you this, people?

Citizens: To the rock, to the rock with him!

SICINIUS: Peace! We need not put new matter to his charge: What you have seen him do and heard him speak, Beating your officers, cursing yourselves, Opposing laws with strokes and here defying Those whose great power must try him; even this, So criminal and in such capital kind, Deserves the extremest death.

BRUTUS: But since he hath Served well for Rome,--

CORIOLANUS: What do you prate of service?

BRUTUS: I talk of that, that know it.