ACT V. SCENE I. Rome. A public place  Enter MENENIUS, COMINIUS, SICINIUS and BRUTUS, the two Tribunes, with others    MENENIUS. No, I'll not go. You hear what he hath said     Which was sometime his general, who lov'd him     In a most dear particular. He call'd me father;     But what o' that? Go, you that banish'd him:     A mile before his tent fall down, and knee     The way into his mercy. Nay, if he coy'd     To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home.   COMINIUS. He would not seem to know me.   MENENIUS. Do you hear?   COMINIUS. Yet one time he did call me by my name.     I urg'd our old acquaintance, and the drops     That we have bled together. 'Coriolanus'     He would not answer to; forbid all names;     He was a kind of nothing, titleless,     Till he had forg'd himself a name i' th' fire     Of burning Rome.   MENENIUS. Why, so! You have made good work.     A pair of tribunes that have wrack'd for Rome     To make coals cheap- a noble memory!   COMINIUS. I minded him how royal 'twas to pardon     When it was less expected; he replied,     It was a bare petition of a state     To one whom they had punish'd.   MENENIUS. Very well.     Could he say less?   COMINIUS. I offer'd to awaken his regard     For's private friends; his answer to me was,     He could not stay to pick them in a pile     Of noisome musty chaff. He said 'twas folly,     For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt     And still to nose th' offence.   MENENIUS. For one poor grain or two!     I am one of those. His mother, wife, his child,     And this brave fellow too- we are the grains:     You are the musty chaff, and you are smelt     Above the moon. We must be burnt for you.   SICINIUS. Nay, pray be patient; if you refuse your aid     In this so never-needed help, yet do not     Upbraid's with our distress. But sure, if you     Would be your country's pleader, your good tongue,     More than the instant army we can make,     Might stop our countryman.   MENENIUS. No; I'll not meddle.   SICINIUS. Pray you go to him.   MENENIUS. What should I do?   BRUTUS. Only make trial what your love can do     For Rome, towards Marcius.   MENENIUS. Well, and say that Marcius     Return me, as Cominius is return'd,     Unheard- what then?     But as a discontented friend, grief-shot     With his unkindness? Say't be so?   SICINIUS. Yet your good will     Must have that thanks from Rome after the measure     As you intended well.   MENENIUS. I'll undertake't;     I think he'll hear me. Yet to bite his lip     And hum at good Cominius much unhearts me.     He was not taken well: he had not din'd;     The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then     We pout upon the morning, are unapt     To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd     These pipes and these conveyances of our blood     With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls     Than in our priest-like fasts. Therefore I'll watch him     Till he be dieted to my request,     And then I'll set upon him.   BRUTUS. You know the very road into his kindness     And cannot lose your way.   MENENIUS. Good faith, I'll prove him,     Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge     Of my success.                                          Exit   COMINIUS. He'll never hear him.   SICINIUS. Not?   COMINIUS. I tell you he does sit in gold, his eye     Red as 'twould burn Rome, and his injury     The gaoler to his pity. I kneel'd before him;     'Twas very faintly he said 'Rise'; dismiss'd me     Thus with his speechless hand. What he would do,     He sent in writing after me; what he would not,     Bound with an oath to yield to his conditions;     So that all hope is vain,     Unless his noble mother and his wife,     Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him     For mercy to his country. Therefore let's hence,     And with our fair entreaties haste them on.           Exeunt     SCENE II. The Volscian camp before Rome  Enter MENENIUS to the WATCH on guard    FIRST WATCH. Stay. Whence are you?   SECOND WATCH. 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 WATCH. From whence?   MENENIUS. From Rome.   FIRST WATCH. YOU may not pass; you must return. Our general     Will no more hear from thence.   SECOND WATCH. 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 WATCH. 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 WATCH. 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. Prithee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius, always     factionary on the party of your general.   SECOND WATCH. 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 din'd, canst thou tell? For I would not speak with     him till after dinner.   FIRST WATCH. You are a Roman, are you?   MENENIUS. I am as thy general is.   FIRST WATCH. Then you should hate Rome, as he does. Can you, when     you have push'd 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 decay'd 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 deceiv'd; therefore     back to Rome and prepare for your execution. You are condemn'd;     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.   FIRST WATCH. Come, my captain knows you not.   MENENIUS. I mean thy general.   FIRST WATCH. 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 stand'st not i' th' 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 belov'd in Rome; yet thou behold'st.   AUFIDIUS. You keep a constant temper.                                   Exeunt CORIOLANUS and Aufidius   FIRST WATCH. Now, sir, is your name Menenius?   SECOND WATCH. 'Tis a spell, you see, of much power! You know the     way home again.   FIRST WATCH. Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your     greatness back?   SECOND WATCH. What cause, do you think, I have to swoon?   MENENIUS. I neither care for th' 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 WATCH. A noble fellow, I warrant him.   SECOND WATCH. The worthy fellow is our general; he's 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 th' Volscian lords how plainly     I have borne this business.   AUFIDIUS. Only their ends     You have respected; stopp'd 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, VALERIA,                    YOUNG MARCIUS, with 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 curtsy 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' th' earth;       [Kneels]     Of thy deep duty more impression show     Than that of common sons.   VOLUMNIA. O, stand up blest!     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's 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,     Murd'ring 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 curdied by the frost from purest snow,     And hangs on Dian's temple- dear Valeria!   VOLUMNIA. This is a poor epitome of yours,     Which by th' 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' th' 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     T'allay my rages and revenges with     Your colder reasons.   VOLUMNIA. O, no more, no more!     You have said you will not grant us any thing-     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 bar'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 side should win; for either thou     Must as a foreign recreant be led     With manacles through our streets, or else     Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin,     And bear the palm for having bravely shed     Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son,     I purpose not to wait on fortune till     These wars determine; if I can not persuade thee     Rather to show a noble grace to both parts     Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner     March to assault thy country than to tread-     Trust to't, thou shalt not- on thy mother's womb     That brought thee to this world.   VIRGILIA. Ay, and mine,     That brought you forth this boy to keep your name     Living to time.   BOY. 'A shall not tread on me!     I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I'll fight.   CORIOLANUS. Not of a woman's tenderness to be     Requires nor child nor woman's face to see.     I have sat too long.                                [Rising]   VOLUMNIA. Nay, go not from us thus.     If it were so that our request did tend     To save the Romans, thereby to destroy     The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us     As poisonous of your honour. No, our suit     Is that you reconcile them: while the Volsces     May say 'This mercy we have show'd,' the Romans     'This we receiv'd,' and each in either side     Give the all-hail to thee, and cry 'Be blest     For making up this peace!' Thou know'st, great son,     The end of war's uncertain; but this certain,     That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit     Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name     Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses;     Whose chronicle thus writ: 'The man was noble,     But with his last attempt he wip'd it out,     Destroy'd his country, and his name remains     To th' ensuing age abhorr'd.' Speak to me, son.     Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour,     To imitate the graces of the gods,     To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' th' air,     And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt     That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak?     Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man     Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speak you:     He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy;     Perhaps thy childishness will move him more     Than can our reasons. There's no man in the world     More bound to's mother, yet here he lets me prate     Like one i' th' stocks. Thou hast never in thy life     Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy,     When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood,     Has cluck'd thee to the wars, and safely home     Loaden with honour. Say my request's unjust,     And spurn me back; but if it he not so,     Thou art not honest, and the gods will plague thee,     That thou restrain'st from me the duty which     To a mother's part belongs. He turns away.     Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees.     To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride     Than pity to our prayers. Down. An end;     This is the last. So we will home to Rome,     And die among our neighbours. Nay, behold's!     This boy, that cannot tell what he would have     But kneels and holds up hands for fellowship,     Does reason our petition with more strength     Than thou hast to deny't. Come, let us go.     This fellow had a Volscian to his mother;     His wife is in Corioli, and his child     Like him by chance. Yet give us our dispatch.     I am hush'd until our city be afire,     And then I'll speak a little.                               [He holds her by the hand, silent]   CORIOLANUS. O mother, mother!     What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope,     The gods look down, and this unnatural scene     They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O!     You have won a happy victory to Rome;     But for your son- believe it, O, believe it!-     Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd,     If not most mortal to him. But let it come.     Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars,     I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius,     Were you in my stead, would you have heard     A mother less, or granted less, Aufidius?   AUFIDIUS. I was mov'd withal.   CORIOLANUS. I dare be sworn you were!     And, sir, it is no little thing to make     Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir,     What peace you'fl make, advise me. For my part,     I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and pray you     Stand to me in this cause. O mother! wife!   AUFIDIUS.  [Aside]  I am glad thou hast set thy mercy and thy       honour     At difference in thee. Out of that I'll work     Myself a former fortune.   CORIOLANUS.  [To the ladies]  Ay, by and by;     But we will drink together; and you shall bear     A better witness back than words, which we,     On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd.     Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve     To have a temple built you. All the swords     In Italy, and her confederate arms,     Could not have made this peace.                       Exeunt     SCENE IV. Rome. A public place  Enter MENENIUS and SICINIUS    MENENIUS. See you yond coign o' th' Capitol, yond cornerstone?   SICINIUS. Why, what of that?   MENENIUS. If it be possible for you to displace it with your little     finger, there is some hope the ladies of Rome, especially his     mother, may prevail with him. But I say there is no hope in't;     our throats are sentenc'd, and stay upon execution.   SICINIUS. Is't possible that so short a time can alter the     condition of a man?   MENENIUS. There is differency between a grub and a butterfly; yet     your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown from man to     dragon; he has wings, he's more than a creeping thing.   SICINIUS. He lov'd his mother dearly.   MENENIUS. So did he me; and he no more remembers his mother now     than an eight-year-old horse. The tartness of his face sours ripe     grapes; when he walks, he moves like an engine and the ground     shrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corslet with     his eye, talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He sits in     his state as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done is     finish'd with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but     eternity, and a heaven to throne in.   SICINIUS. Yes- mercy, if you report him truly.   MENENIUS. I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his mother     shall bring from him. There is no more mercy in him than there is     milk in a male tiger; that shall our poor city find. And all this     is 'long of you.   SICINIUS. The gods be good unto us!   MENENIUS. No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us.     When we banish'd him we respected not them; and, he returning to     break our necks, they respect not us.                             Enter a MESSENGER    MESSENGER. Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to your house.     The plebeians have got your fellow tribune     And hale him up and down; all swearing if     The Roman ladies bring not comfort home     They'll give him death by inches.                           Enter another MESSENGER    SICINIUS. What's the news?   SECOND MESSENGER. Good news, good news! The ladies have prevail'd,     The Volscians are dislodg'd, and Marcius gone.     A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,     No, not th' expulsion of the Tarquins.   SICINIUS. Friend,     Art thou certain this is true? Is't most certain?   SECOND MESSENGER. As certain as I know the sun is fire.     Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it?     Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide     As the recomforted through th' gates. Why, hark you!                   [Trumpets, hautboys, drums beat, all together]     The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes,     Tabors and cymbals, and the shouting Romans,     Make the sun dance. Hark you!               [A shout within]   MENENIUS. This is good news.     I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia     Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians,     A city full; of tribunes such as you,     A sea and land full. You have pray'd well to-day:     This morning for ten thousand of your throats     I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy!                                    [Sound still with the shouts]   SICINIUS. First, the gods bless you for your tidings; next,     Accept my thankfulness.   SECOND MESSENGER. Sir, we have all     Great cause to give great thanks.   SICINIUS. They are near the city?   MESSENGER. Almost at point to enter.   SICINIUS. We'll meet them,     And help the joy.                                     Exeunt     SCENE V. Rome. A street near the gate  Enter two SENATORS With VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, VALERIA, passing over the stage, 'With other LORDS    FIRST SENATOR. Behold our patroness, the life of Rome!     Call all your tribes together, praise the gods,     And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before them.     Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius,     Repeal him with the welcome of his mother;   ALL. Welcome, ladies, welcome!                     [A flourish with drums and trumpets. Exeunt]     SCENE VI. Corioli. A public place  Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS with attendents    AUFIDIUS. Go tell the lords o' th' city I am here;     Deliver them this paper' having read it,     Bid them repair to th' market-place, where I,     Even in theirs and in the commons' ears,     Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse     The city ports by this hath enter'd and     Intends t' appear before the people, hoping     To purge himself with words. Dispatch.                                                Exeunt attendants             Enter three or four CONSPIRATORS of AUFIDIUS' faction      Most welcome!   FIRST CONSPIRATOR. How is it with our general?   AUFIDIUS. Even so     As with a man by his own alms empoison'd,     And with his charity slain.   SECOND CONSPIRATOR. Most noble sir,     If you do hold the same intent wherein     You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you     Of your great danger.   AUFIDIUS. Sir, I cannot tell;     We must proceed as we do find the people.   THIRD CONSPIRATOR. The people will remain uncertain whilst     'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either     Makes the survivor heir of all.   AUFIDIUS. I know it;     And my pretext to strike at him admits     A good construction. I rais'd him, and I pawn'd     Mine honour for his truth; who being so heighten'd,     He watered his new plants with dews of flattery,     Seducing so my friends; and to this end     He bow'd his nature, never known before     But to be rough, unswayable, and free.   THIRD CONSPIRATOR. Sir, his stoutness     When he did stand for consul, which he lost     By lack of stooping-   AUFIDIUS. That I would have spoken of.     Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth,     Presented to my knife his throat. I took him;     Made him joint-servant with me; gave him way     In all his own desires; nay, let him choose     Out of my files, his projects to accomplish,     My best and freshest men; serv'd his designments     In mine own person; holp to reap the fame     Which he did end all his, and took some pride     To do myself this wrong. Till, at the last,     I seem'd his follower, not partner; and     He wag'd me with his countenance as if     I had been mercenary.   FIRST CONSPIRATOR. So he did, my lord.     The army marvell'd at it; and, in the last,     When he had carried Rome and that we look'd     For no less spoil than glory-   AUFIDIUS. There was it;     For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him.     At a few drops of women's rheum, which are     As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour     Of our great action; therefore shall he die,     And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark!                                                       [Drums and                 trumpets sound, with great shouts of the people]   FIRST CONSPIRATOR. Your native town you enter'd like a post,     And had no welcomes home; but he returns     Splitting the air with noise.   SECOND CONSPIRATOR. And patient fools,     Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear     With giving him glory.   THIRD CONSPIRATOR. Therefore, at your vantage,     Ere he express himself or move the people     With what he would say, let him feel your sword,     Which we will second. When he lies along,     After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury     His reasons with his body.   AUFIDIUS. Say no more:     Here come the lords.                       Enter the LORDS of the city    LORDS. You are most welcome home.   AUFIDIUS. I have not deserv'd it.     But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused     What I have written to you?   LORDS. We have.   FIRST LORD. And grieve to hear't.     What faults he made before the last, I think     Might have found easy fines; but there to end     Where he was to begin, and give away     The benefit of our levies, answering us     With our own charge, making a treaty where     There was a yielding- this admits no excuse.   AUFIDIUS. He approaches; you shall hear him.              Enter CORIOLANUS, marching with drum and colours;                       the commoners being with him    CORIOLANUS. Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier;     No more infected with my country's love     Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting     Under your great command. You are to know     That prosperously I have attempted, and     With bloody passage led your wars even to     The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home     Doth more than counterpoise a full third part     The charges of the action. We have made peace     With no less honour to the Antiates     Than shame to th' Romans; and we here deliver,     Subscrib'd by th' consuls and patricians,     Together with the seal o' th' Senate, what     We have compounded on.   AUFIDIUS. Read it not, noble lords;     But tell the traitor in the highest degree     He hath abus'd your powers.   CORIOLANUS. Traitor! How now?   AUFIDIUS. Ay, traitor, Marcius.   CORIOLANUS. Marcius!   AUFIDIUS. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius! Dost thou think     I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name     Coriolanus, in Corioli?     You lords and heads o' th' state, perfidiously     He has betray'd your business and given up,     For certain drops of salt, your city Rome-     I say your city- to his wife and mother;     Breaking his oath and resolution like     A twist of rotten silk; never admitting     Counsel o' th' war; but at his nurse's tears     He whin'd and roar'd away your victory,     That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart     Look'd wond'ring each at others.   CORIOLANUS. Hear'st thou, Mars?   AUFIDIUS. Name not the god, thou boy of tears-   CORIOLANUS. Ha!   AUFIDIUS. -no more.   CORIOLANUS. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart     Too great for what contains it. 'Boy'! O slave!     Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever     I was forc'd to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords,     Must give this cur the lie; and his own notion-     Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him, that     Must bear my beating to his grave- shall join     To thrust the lie unto him.   FIRST LORD. Peace, both, and hear me speak.   CORIOLANUS. Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and lads,     Stain all your edges on me. 'Boy'! False hound!     If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there     That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I     Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli.     Alone I did it. 'Boy'!   AUFIDIUS. Why, noble lords,     Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune,     Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart,     Fore your own eyes and ears?   CONSPIRATORS. Let him die for't.   ALL THE PEOPLE. Tear him to pieces. Do it presently. He kill'd my     son. My daughter. He kill'd my cousin Marcus. He kill'd my     father.   SECOND LORD. Peace, ho! No outrage- peace!     The man is noble, and his fame folds in     This orb o' th' earth. His last offences to us     Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius,     And trouble not the peace.   CORIOLANUS. O that I had him,     With six Aufidiuses, or more- his tribe,     To use my lawful sword!   AUFIDIUS. Insolent villain!   CONSPIRATORS. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him!            [The CONSPIRATORS draw and kill CORIOLANUS,who falls.                                          AUFIDIUS stands on him]   LORDS. Hold, hold, hold, hold!   AUFIDIUS. My noble masters, hear me speak.   FIRST LORD. O Tullus!   SECOND LORD. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep.   THIRD LORD. Tread not upon him. Masters all, be quiet;     Put up your swords.   AUFIDIUS. My lords, when you shall know- as in this rage,     Provok'd by him, you cannot- the great danger     Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice     That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours     To call me to your Senate, I'll deliver     Myself your loyal servant, or endure     Your heaviest censure.   FIRST LORD. Bear from hence his body,     And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded     As the most noble corse that ever herald     Did follow to his um.   SECOND LORD. His own impatience     Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.     Let's make the best of it.   AUFIDIUS. My rage is gone,     And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up.     Help, three o' th' chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.     Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully;     Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he     Hath widowed and unchilded many a one,     Which to this hour bewail the injury,     Yet he shall have a noble memory.     Assist.               Exeunt, bearing the body of CORIOLANUS                                           [A dead march sounded]   THE END