Complete Plays, The (182 page)

Third Servingman

What fellow’s this?

First Servingman

A strange one as ever I looked on: I cannot get him out of the house: prithee, call my master to him.

Retires

Third Servingman

What have you to do here, fellow? Pray you, avoid the house.

Coriolanus

Let me but stand; I will not hurt your hearth.

Third Servingman

What are you?

Coriolanus

A gentleman.

Third Servingman

A marvellous poor one.

Coriolanus

True, so I am.

Third Servingman

Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other station; here’s no place for you; pray you, avoid: come.

Coriolanus

Follow your function, go, and batten on cold bits.

Pushes him away

Third Servingman

What, you will not? Prithee, tell my master what a strange guest he has here.

Second Servingman

And I shall.

Exit

Third Servingman

Where dwellest thou?

Coriolanus

Under the canopy.

Third Servingman

Under the canopy!

Coriolanus

Ay.

Third Servingman

Where’s that?

Coriolanus

I’ the city of kites and crows.

Third Servingman

I’ the city of kites and crows! What an ass it is!
Then thou dwellest with daws too?

Coriolanus

No, I serve not thy master.

Third Servingman

How, sir! do you meddle with my master?

Coriolanus

Ay; ’tis an honester service than to meddle with thy mistress. Thou pratest, and pratest; serve with thy trencher, hence!

Beats him away. Exit third Servingman

Enter Aufidius with the second Servingman

Aufidius

Where is this fellow?

Second Servingman

Here, sir: I’ld have beaten him like a dog, but for disturbing the lords within.

Retires

Aufidius

Whence comest thou? what wouldst thou? thy name?
Why speak’st not? speak, man: what’s thy name?

Coriolanus

If, Tullus,

Unmuffling

Not yet thou knowest me, and, seeing me, dost not
Think me for the man I am, necessity
Commands me name myself.

Aufidius

What is thy name?

Coriolanus

A name unmusical to the Volscians’ ears,
And harsh in sound to thine.

Aufidius

Say, what’s thy name?
Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face
Bears a command in’t; though thy tackle’s torn.
Thou show’st a noble vessel: what’s thy name?

Coriolanus

Prepare thy brow to frown: know’st thou me yet?

Aufidius

I know thee not: thy name?

Coriolanus

My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done
To thee particularly and to all the Volsces
Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may
My surname, Coriolanus: the painful service,
The extreme dangers and the drops of blood
Shed for my thankless country are requited
But with that surname; a good memory,
And witness of the malice and displeasure
Which thou shouldst bear me: only that name remains;
The cruelty and envy of the people,
Permitted by our dastard nobles, who
Have all forsook me, hath devour’d the rest;
And suffer’d me by the voice of slaves to be
Whoop’d out of Rome. Now this extremity
Hath brought me to thy hearth; not out of hope —
Mistake me not — to save my life, for if
I had fear’d death, of all the men i’ the world
I would have ’voided thee, but in mere spite,
To be full quit of those my banishers,
Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast
A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge
Thine own particular wrongs and stop those maims
Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee straight,
And make my misery serve thy turn: so use it
That my revengeful services may prove
As benefits to thee, for I will fight
Against my canker’d country with the spleen
Of all the under fiends. But if so be
Thou darest not this and that to prove more fortunes
Thou’rt tired, then, in a word, I also am
Longer to live most weary, and present
My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice;
Which not to cut would show thee but a fool,
Since I have ever follow’d thee with hate,
Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country’s breast,
And cannot live but to thy shame, unless
It be to do thee service.

Aufidius

O Marcius, Marcius!
Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart
A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter
Should from yond cloud speak divine things,
And say ’Tis true,’ I’ld not believe them more
Than thee, all noble Marcius. Let me twine
Mine arms about that body, where against
My grained ash an hundred times hath broke
And scarr’d the moon with splinters: here I clip
The anvil of my sword, and do contest
As hotly and as nobly with thy love
As ever in ambitious strength I did
Contend against thy valour. Know thou first,
I loved the maid I married; never man
Sigh’d truer breath; but that I see thee here,
Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart
Than when I first my wedded mistress saw
Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell thee,
We have a power on foot; and I had purpose
Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn,
Or lose mine arm fort: thou hast beat me out
Twelve several times, and I have nightly since
Dreamt of encounters ’twixt thyself and me;
We have been down together in my sleep,
Unbuckling helms, fisting each other’s throat,
And waked half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius,
Had we no quarrel else to Rome, but that
Thou art thence banish’d, we would muster all
From twelve to seventy, and pouring war
Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,
Like a bold flood o’er-bear. O, come, go in,
And take our friendly senators by the hands;
Who now are here, taking their leaves of me,
Who am prepared against your territories,
Though not for Rome itself.

Coriolanus

You bless me, gods!

Aufidius

Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt have
The leading of thine own revenges, take
The one half of my commission; and set down —
As best thou art experienced, since thou know’st
Thy country’s strength and weakness,— thine own ways;
Whether to knock against the gates of Rome,
Or rudely visit them in parts remote,
To fright them, ere destroy. But come in:
Let me commend thee first to those that shall
Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes!
And more a friend than e’er an enemy;
Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand: most welcome!

Exeunt Coriolanus and Aufidius. The two Servingmen come forward

First Servingman

Here’s a strange alteration!

Second Servingman

By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with a cudgel; and yet my mind gave me his clothes made a false report of him.

First Servingman

What an arm he has! he turned me about with his finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top.

Second Servingman

Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in him: he had, sir, a kind of face, methought,— I cannot tell how to term it.

First Servingman

He had so; looking as it were — would I were hanged, but I thought there was more in him than I could think.

Second Servingman

So did I, I’ll be sworn: he is simply the rarest man i’ the world.

First Servingman

I think he is: but a greater soldier than he you wot on.

Second Servingman

Who, my master?

First Servingman

Nay, it’s no matter for that.

Second Servingman

Worth six on him.

First Servingman

Nay, not so neither: but I take him to be the greater soldier.

Second Servingman

Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that: for the defence of a town, our general is excellent.

First Servingman

Ay, and for an assault too.

Re-enter third Servingman

Third Servingman

O slaves, I can tell you news,— news, you rascals!

First Servingman

Second Servingman

What, what, what? let’s partake.

Third Servingman

I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as lieve be a condemned man.

First Servingman

Second Servingman

Wherefore? wherefore?

Third Servingman

Why, here’s he that was wont to thwack our general,
Caius Marcius.

First Servingman

Why do you say ’thwack our general ’?

Third Servingman

I do not say ’thwack our general;’ but he was always good enough for him.

Second Servingman

Come, we are fellows and friends: he was ever too hard for him; I have heard him say so himself.

First Servingman

He was too hard for him directly, to say the troth on’t: before Corioli he scotched him and notched him like a carbon ado.

Second Servingman

An he had been cannibally given, he might have broiled and eaten him too.

First Servingman

But, more of thy news?

Third Servingman

Why, he is so made on here within, as if he were son and heir to Mars; set at upper end o’ the table; no question asked him by any of the senators, but they stand bald before him: our general himself makes a mistress of him: sanctifies himself with’s hand and turns up the white o’ the eye to his discourse. But the bottom of the news is that our general is cut i’ the middle and but one half of what he was yesterday; for the other has half, by the entreaty and grant of the whole table. He’ll go, he says, and sowl the porter of Rome gates by the ears: he will mow all down before him, and leave his passage polled.

Second Servingman

And he’s as like to do’t as any man I can imagine.

Third Servingman

Do’t! he will do’t; for, look you, sir, he has as many friends as enemies; which friends, sir, as it were, durst not, look you, sir, show themselves, as we term it, his friends whilst he’s in directitude.

First Servingman

Directitude! what’s that?

Third Servingman

But when they shall see, sir, his crest up again, and the man in blood, they will out of their burrows, like conies after rain, and revel all with him.

First Servingman

But when goes this forward?

Third Servingman

To-morrow; to-day; presently; you shall have the drum struck up this afternoon: ’tis, as it were, a parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips.

Second Servingman

Why, then we shall have a stirring world again. This peace is nothing, but to rust iron, increase tailors, and breed ballad-makers.

First Servingman

Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as day does night; it’s spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more bastard children than war’s a destroyer of men.

Second Servingman

’Tis so: and as war, in some sort, may be said to be a ravisher, so it cannot be denied but peace is a great maker of cuckolds.

First Servingman

Ay, and it makes men hate one another.

Third Servingman

Reason; because they then less need one another. The wars for my money. I hope to see Romans as cheap as Volscians. They are rising, they are rising.

All

In, in, in, in!

Exeunt

S
CENE
VI. R
OME
. A
PUBLIC
PLACE
.

Enter Sicinius and Brutus

Sicinius

We hear not of him, neither need we fear him;
His remedies are tame i’ the present peace
And quietness of the people, which before
Were in wild hurry. Here do we make his friends
Blush that the world goes well, who rather had,
Though they themselves did suffer by’t, behold
Dissentious numbers pestering streets than see
Our tradesmen with in their shops and going
About their functions friendly.

Brutus

We stood to’t in good time.

Enter Menenius

Is this Menenius?

Sicinius

’Tis he,’tis he: O, he is grown most kind of late.

Both Tribunes

Hail sir!

Menenius

 
Hail to you both!

Sicinius

Your Coriolanus
Is not much miss’d, but with his friends:
The commonwealth doth stand, and so would do,
Were he more angry at it.

Menenius

All’s well; and might have been much better, if
He could have temporized.

Sicinius

Where is he, hear you?

Menenius

Nay, I hear nothing: his mother and his wife
Hear nothing from him.

Enter three or four Citizens

Citizens

The gods preserve you both!

Sicinius

God-den, our neighbours.

Brutus

God-den to you all, god-den to you all.

First Citizen

Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our knees,
Are bound to pray for you both.

Sicinius

Live, and thrive!

Brutus

Farewell, kind neighbours: we wish’d Coriolanus
Had loved you as we did.

Citizens

Now the gods keep you!

Both Tribunes

Farewell, farewell.

Exeunt Citizens