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Come, come, they are almost here. How many stand for consulships?
Come on, they’re almost here. How many are running for consul?
Three, they say: but ’tis thought of every one Coriolanus will carry it.
Three, they say: but everyone thinks Coriolanus will win.
That’s a brave fellow; but he’s vengeance proud, and loves not the common people.
He’s a brave guy; but he’s proud and vengeful, and doesn’t care for the common people.
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.
Honestly, many great men have flattered the people, and they’ve never liked them; and there are many that they’ve liked, but they don’t even know why. So if they love, it’s for no reason, and if they hate, it’s for no better reason: that’s why, for Coriolanus not caring whether they love or hate shows that he really understands their nature; and his noble indifference lets them see it clearly.
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.
If he didn’t care whether they loved him or not, he’d be indifferent, doing neither good nor bad to them. But he seeks their hate more passionately than he could ever get it; and does everything possible to show them he’s their enemy. Now, pretending to enjoy the people’s malice and dislike is just as bad as what he hates, which is flattering them to gain their love.
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.
He has truly earned his country’s respect: his rise isn’t as easy as those who, having been polite and friendly to the people, without doing anything else, manage to win their favor and reputation. But Coriolanus has earned his honor through his actions, which are deeply rooted in the people’s hearts, so that for them to stay quiet about it, and not acknowledge his worth, would be an act of ingratitude; to say otherwise would be a malicious lie that, if challenged, would bring shame to anyone who repeated it.
No more of him; he is a worthy man: make way, they are coming.
No more about him; he’s a worthy man. Make way, they’re coming.
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.
After deciding on the Volsces and sending for Titus Lartius, the next thing to do, as the main point of this meeting, is to honor his great service to his country: therefore, I ask you, Most respected and wise elders, to request the current consul, and the last general in our recent successes, to speak a little about the excellent work done by Caius Marcius Coriolanus, whom we’re here to thank and remember with honors fitting his greatness.
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.
Speak, good Cominius: Don’t leave anything out, and make us think that the fault is in our state’s rewards rather than that we should stretch them too far.
Masters o’ the people, We do request your kindest ears, and after, Your loving motion toward the common body, To yield what passes here.
Masters of the people, We ask for your kind attention, and afterward, your support for the common good, to allow what happens here.
We are convented Upon a pleasing treaty, and have hearts Inclinable to honour and advance The theme of our assembly.
We are gathered for a favorable purpose, and have hearts ready to honor and advance the reason for our meeting.
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.
Which we’ll be glad to do, if he values the people more kindly than he has done in the past.
That’s off, that’s off; I would you rather had been silent. Please you To hear Cominius speak?
That’s enough, that’s enough; I wish you’d stayed silent. Do you want to hear Cominius speak?
Most willingly; But yet my caution was more pertinent Than the rebuke you give it.
Very willingly; But my caution was more important Than the criticism you’re giving it.
He loves your people But tie him not to be their bedfellow. Worthy Cominius, speak.
He loves your people But don’t make him their close companion. The honorable Cominius, speak.
Nay, keep your place.
No, stay where you are.
Sit, Coriolanus; never shame to hear What you have nobly done.
Sit down, Coriolanus; never be ashamed to hear About the noble things you’ve done.
Your horror’s pardon: I had rather have my wounds to heal again Than hear say how I got them.
I forgive your disgust: I’d rather let my wounds heal again Than hear people talk about how I got them.
Sir, I hope My words disbench’d you not.
Sir, I hope My words didn’t offend you.
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.
No, sir: but often, When physical blows made me stay, I ran from words. You didn’t comfort me, so you didn’t hurt me: but your people, I love them as much as they deserve.
Pray now, sit down.
Please, sit down.
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.
I’d rather have someone scratch my head in the sun When the alarm sounds than sit idly Listening to people twist my words.
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.
Masters of the people, How can he flatter your multiplying followers-- That’s a thousand to one chance he gets one right-- When you see He’d rather risk his limbs for honor Than risk his ears just to hear it? Go on, 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.
I’ll lose my voice: Coriolanus’ deeds Should not be spoken weakly. It’s believed That bravery is the greatest virtue, and Most honors the one who has it: if that’s true, The man I’m talking about cannot be matched in the world. At sixteen, When Tarquin led an army against Rome, he fought Far beyond what others did: our dictator at the time, Whom I praise greatly, saw him fight, When with his Amazon-like chin he drove The enemy before him: he stood over A fallen Roman, and in full view of the consul Killed three opponents: he faced Tarquin himself, And struck him on the knee: in that day’s battle, When he could have acted like a woman in the situation, He proved himself the best man on the field, and for his reward He was crowned with an oak wreath. As he grew older, He became even greater, and in the heat of seventeen battles since, He surpassed all others. For this last battle, Before and at Corioli, let me say, I can’t fully describe him: he stopped the fleeing soldiers; And by his incredible example turned the coward Into someone who found joy in fear: like weeds before A ship under sail, so men obeyed And fell beneath his leadership: his sword, death’s mark, Where it struck, it took; from head to toe He was covered in blood, with every move Timed with dying screams: alone, he entered The city gates, which he painted With inevitable fate; he left without help, And with a sudden reinforcements, attacked Corioli like a powerful force: now everything was his: When, soon after, the sounds of war pierced His alert senses; then, his doubled spirit Reinvigorated what had been exhausted in his body, And he came back to the battle; where he did Rush through men’s lives, as though It were a constant victory: and until we claimed Both the field and the city, he never stopped To catch his breath.
Worthy man!
What an incredible man!
He cannot but with measure fit the honours Which we devise him.
He’s deserving of the honors We intend to give him.
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.
He kicked aside our spoils, And looked at precious things as if they were Just common dirt: he wants less Than misery itself would offer; he rewards His deeds by doing more, and is content To spend the time until it’s finished.
He’s right noble: Let him be call’d for.
He’s truly noble: Let him be called in.
Call Coriolanus.
Call Coriolanus.
He doth appear.
He is here.
The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleased To make thee consul.
The senate, Coriolanus, are happy To make you consul.
I do owe them still My life and services.
I still owe them My life and my services.
It then remains That you do speak to the people.
It then remains That you speak to the people.
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.
I beg you, Let me skip that tradition, because I can’t Put on the robe, stand there bare and beg them, Just because of my wounds, to give their vote: please Let me skip this step.
Sir, the people Must have their voices; neither will they bate One jot of ceremony.
Sir, the people Must have their say; and they won’t reduce Even a tiny bit of ceremony.
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.
Don’t avoid it: Please, go get ready for the tradition and Take on, as your predecessors did, Your honor with your appearance.
It is apart That I shall blush in acting, and might well Be taken from the people.
It’s part of it That I’ll feel embarrassed doing this, and it could easily Be seen as a disrespect to the people.
Mark you that?
Do you hear that?
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!
To boast to them, like this, I did this, and I did that; Show them my unhealed scars that I should cover, As if I got them just for the sake Of their applause alone!
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.
Don’t focus on it. We will explain to the people, tribunes, Our intentions: and to our noble consul We wish all joy and honor.
To Coriolanus come all joy and honour!
May all joy and honor come to Coriolanus!
You see how he intends to use the people.
You see how he plans to manipulate the people.
May they perceive’s intent! He will require them, As if he did contemn what he requested Should be in them to give.
I hope they realize his intentions! He’ll demand from them, As if he looked down on what he’s asking Should be something they can give.
Come, we’ll inform them Of our proceedings here: on the marketplace, I know, they do attend us.
Come on, we’ll tell them About what we’ve been doing here: I know, They’re waiting for us in the marketplace.