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The Tragedy of Coriolanus: Act 2 Scene 1

Scene I Rome. A public place.

[Enter MENENIUS with the two Tribunes of the people,

SICINIUS and BRUTUS.]

MENENIUS

The augurer tells me we shall have news to-night.

BRUTUS

Good or bad?

MENENIUS

Not according to the prayer of the people, for they

love not Marcius.

SICINIUS

Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.

MENENIUS

Pray you, who does the wolf love?

SICINIUS

The lamb.

MENENIUS

Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the

noble Marcius.

BRUTUS

He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear.

MENENIUS

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.

MENENIUS

In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two

have not in abundance?

BRUTUS

He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all.

SICINIUS

Especially in pride.

BRUTUS

And topping all others in boasting.

MENENIUS

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?

MENENIUS

Because you talk of pride now,--will you not be angry?

BOTH

Well, well, sir, well.

MENENIUS

Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of

occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience:

give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at

your pleasures; at the least if you take it as a

pleasure to you in being so. You blame Marcius for

being proud?

BRUTUS

We do it not alone, sir.

MENENIUS

I know you can do very little alone; for your helps

are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous

single: your abilities are too infant-like for

doing much alone. You talk of pride: O that you

could turn your eyes toward the napes of your necks,

and make but an interior survey of your good selves!

O that you could!

BRUTUS

What then, sir?

MENENIUS

Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting,

proud, violent, testy magistrates, alias fools, as

any in Rome.

SICINIUS

Menenius, you are known well enough too.

MENENIUS

I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that

loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying

Tiber in't; said to be something imperfect in

favouring the first complaint; hasty and tinder-like

upon too trivial motion; one that converses more

with the buttock of the night than with the forehead

of the morning: what I think I utter, and spend my

malice in my breath. Meeting two such wealsmen as

you are--I cannot call you Lycurguses--if the drink

you give me touch my palate adversely, I make a

crooked face at it. I can't say your worships have

delivered the matter well, when I find the ass in

compound with the major part of your syllables: and

though I must be content to bear with those that say

you are reverend grave men, yet they lie deadly that

tell you you have good faces. If you see this in

the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known

well enough too? what barm can your bisson

conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be

known well enough too?

BRUTUS

Come, sir, come, we know you well enough.

MENENIUS

You know neither me, yourselves nor any thing. You

are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs: you

wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a

cause between an orange wife and a fosset-seller;

and then rejourn the controversy of three pence to a

second day of audience. When you are hearing a

matter between party and party, if you chance to be

pinched with the colic, you make faces like

mummers; set up the bloody flag against all

patience; and, in roaring for a chamber-pot,

dismiss the controversy bleeding the more entangled

by your hearing: all the peace you make in their

cause is, calling both the parties knaves. You are

a pair of strange ones.

BRUTUS

Come, come, you are well understood to be a

perfecter giber for the table than a necessary

bencher in the Capitol.

MENENIUS

Our very priests must become mockers, if they shall

encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When

you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the

wagging of your beards; and your beards deserve not

so honourable a grave as to stuff a botcher's

cushion, or to be entombed in an ass's pack-

saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is proud;

who in a cheap estimation, is worth predecessors

since Deucalion, though peradventure some of the

best of 'em were hereditary hangmen. God-den to

your worships: more of your conversation would

infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly

plebeians: I will be bold to take my leave of you.

[BRUTUS and SICINIUS go aside]

[Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and VALERIA]

How now, my as fair as noble ladies,--and the moon,

were she earthly, no nobler,--whither do you follow

your eyes so fast?

VOLUMNIA

Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for

the love of Juno, let's go.

MENENIUS

Ha! Marcius coming home!

VOLUMNIA

Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosperous

approbation.

MENENIUS

Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee. Hoo!

Marcius coming home!

VOLUMNIA / VIRGILIA

Nay,'tis true.

VOLUMNIA

Look, here's a letter from him: the state hath

another, his wife another; and, I think, there's one

at home for you.

MENENIUS

I will make my very house reel tonight: a letter for

me!

VIRGILIA

Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw't.

MENENIUS

A letter for me! it gives me an estate of seven

years' health; in which time I will make a lip at

the physician: the most sovereign prescription in

Galen is but empiricutic, and, to this preservative,

of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he

not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded.

VIRGILIA

O, no, no, no.

VOLUMNIA

O, he is wounded; I thank the gods for't.

MENENIUS

So do I too, if it be not too much: brings a'

victory in his pocket? the wounds become him.

VOLUMNIA

On's brows: Menenius, he comes the third time home

with the oaken garland.

MENENIUS

Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly?

VOLUMNIA

Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but

Aufidius got off.

MENENIUS

And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that:

an he had stayed by him, I would not have been so

fidiused for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold

that's in them. Is the senate possessed of this?

VOLUMNIA

Good ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes; the senate

has letters from the general, wherein he gives my

son the whole name of the war: he hath in this

action outdone his former deeds doubly

VALERIA

In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him.

MENENIUS

Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without his

true purchasing.

VIRGILIA

The gods grant them true!

VOLUMNIA

True! pow, wow.

MENENIUS

True! I'll be sworn they are true.

Where is he wounded?

[To the Tribunes]

God save your good worships! Marcius is coming

home: he has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded?

VOLUMNIA

I' the shoulder and i' the left arm there will be

large cicatrices to show the people, when he shall

stand for his place. He received in the repulse of

Tarquin seven hurts i' the body.

MENENIUS

One i' the neck, and two i' the thigh,--there's

nine that I know.

VOLUMNIA

He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five

wounds upon him.

MENENIUS

Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave.

[A shout and flourish]

Hark! the trumpets.

VOLUMNIA

These are the ushers of Marcius: before him he

carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears:

Death, that dark spirit, in 's nervy arm doth lie;

Which, being advanced, declines, and then men die.

[A sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter COMINIUS the

general, and TITUS LARTIUS; between them, CORIOLANUS,

crowned with an oaken garland; with Captains and

Soldiers, and a Herald]

HERALD

Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight

Within Corioli gates: where he hath won,

With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these

In honour follows Coriolanus.

Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!

[Flourish]

ALL

Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!

CORIOLANUS

No more of this; it does offend my heart:

Pray now, no more.

COMINIUS

Look, sir, your mother!

CORIOLANUS

O,

You have, I know, petition'd all the gods

For my prosperity!

[Kneels]

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?

[To VALERIA]

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

[To VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA] Your hand, and yours:

Ere in our own house I do shade my head,

The good patricians must be visited;

From whom I have received not only greetings,

But with them change of honours.

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!

[Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before.

BRUTUS and SICINIUS come forward]

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.

[Enter a Messenger]

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.

[Exeunt]