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Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him.
Once, if he asks for our votes, we shouldn’t deny him.
We may, sir, if we will.
We can, sir, if we want to.
We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a power that we have no power to do; for if he show us his wounds and tell us his deeds, we are to put our tongues into those wounds and speak for them; so, if he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is monstrous, and for the multitude to be ingrateful, were to make a monster of the multitude: of the which we being members, should bring ourselves to be monstrous members.
We have the power to do it, but it’s a power we can’t really use; because if he shows us his wounds and tells us what he’s done, we have to put our words into those wounds and speak on his behalf; so, if he tells us about his noble actions, we have to tell him how much we admire them. Ingratitude is terrible, and if the people were ungrateful, it would turn them into monsters: and as members of that people, we would make ourselves monstrous too.
And to make us no better thought of, a little help will serve; for once we stood up about the corn, he himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude.
And to make us look better, a little help will do; because when we once protested about the grain, he didn’t hesitate to call us the many-headed mob.
We have been called so of many; not that our heads are some brown, some black, some auburn, some bald, but that our wits are so diversely coloured: and truly I think if all our wits were to issue out of one skull, they would fly east, west, north, south, and their consent of one direct way should be at once to all the points o’ the compass.
We’ve been called that by many; not because our heads are all different colors—some brown, some black, some red, some bald, but because our minds are so varied: and honestly, I think if all our brains came from one skull, they would scatter in every direction—east, west, north, south, and they would agree on one thing: to go in every direction at once.
Think you so? Which way do you judge my wit would fly?
Do you think so? Which way do you think my mind would go?
Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another man’s will;’tis strongly wedged up in a block-head, but if it were at liberty, ’twould, sure, southward.
Well, your mind wouldn’t be the first to escape; it’s tightly stuck in a thick head, but if it were free, it would probably go south.
Why that way?
Why south?
To lose itself in a fog, where being three parts melted away with rotten dews, the fourth would return for conscience sake, to help to get thee a wife.
To get lost in a fog, where, after being mostly melted away by damp air, the last part would come back for conscience sake, to help you find a wife.
You are never without your tricks: you may, you may.
You always have your jokes: you may be right.
Are you all resolved to give your voices? But that’s no matter, the greater part carries it. I say, if he would incline to the people, there was never a worthier man.
Are you all ready to cast your votes? But it doesn’t matter, the majority will decide. I say, if he would just show some favor to the people, there was never a better man.
Here he comes, and in the gown of humility: mark his behavior. We are not to stay all together, but to come by him where he stands, by ones, by twos, and by threes. He’s to make his requests by particulars; wherein every one of us has a single honour, in giving him our own voices with our own tongues: therefore follow me, and I direct you how you shall go by him.
Here he comes, wearing the gown of humility: pay attention to his behavior. We don’t all need to stay together, but we’ll approach him one by one, in pairs, or in threes. He’s supposed to make his requests individually; in that way, each of us gets a chance to show our personal respect by giving him our own vote with our own words: so follow me, and I’ll show you how to approach him.
Content, content.
Fine, fine.
O sir, you are not right: have you not known The worthiest men have done’t?
Oh, sir, you’re wrong: haven’t you heard that the best men have done this before?
What must I say? ’I Pray, sir’--Plague upon’t! I cannot bring My tongue to such a pace:--’Look, sir, my wounds! I got them in my country’s service, when Some certain of your brethren roar’d and ran From the noise of our own drums.’
What do you want me to say? ’I pray, sir’--Damn it! I can’t get my tongue to move that slowly:--’Look, sir, my wounds! I got them in my country’s service, when some of your people shouted and ran from the sound of our own drums.’
O me, the gods! You must not speak of that: you must desire them To think upon you.
Oh, my gods! You mustn’t talk about that: you need to ask them to think about you.
Think upon me! hang ’em! I would they would forget me, like the virtues Which our divines lose by ’em.
Think about me! Forget them! I wish they would forget me, just like the good qualities that our religious people lose because of them.
You’ll mar all: I’ll leave you: pray you, speak to ’em, I pray you, In wholesome manner.
You’ll ruin everything: I’ll leave you now: please, speak to them, I beg you, in a decent way.
Bid them wash their faces And keep their teeth clean.
Tell them to wash their faces and brush their teeth.
So, here comes a brace.
So, here come two of them.
You know the cause, air, of my standing here.
You know why I’m standing here.
We do, sir; tell us what hath brought you to’t.
We do, sir; tell us what has brought you here.
Mine own desert.
My own actions.
Your own desert!
Your own actions!
Ay, but not mine own desire.
Yes, but not my own wish.
How not your own desire?
How is it not your own wish?
No, sir,’twas never my desire yet to trouble the poor with begging.
No, sir, it was never my wish to bother the poor with asking for charity.
You must think, if we give you any thing, we hope to gain by you.
You must think that if we give you anything, we expect to get something in return from you.
Well then, I pray, your price o’ the consulship?
Well then, I ask you, what’s your price for supporting my candidacy?
The price is to ask it kindly.
The price is asking for it nicely.
Kindly! Sir, I pray, let me ha’t: I have wounds to show you, which shall be yours in private. Your good voice, sir; what say you?
Nicely! Sir, I ask you kindly: I have wounds to show you, which I’ll reveal to you privately. Your support, sir; what do you say?
You shall ha’ it, worthy sir.
You’ll have it, worthy sir.
A match, sir. There’s in all two worthy voices begged. I have your alms: adieu.
A deal, sir. That’s two worthy votes begged for. I’ve received your charity: goodbye.
But this is something odd.
But this is a bit strange.
An ’twere to give again,--but ’tis no matter.
If it were to be given back, -- but it doesn’t matter.
Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your voices that I may be consul, I have here the customary gown.
Please, if it’s okay with the mood of your voices that I be consul, I have the traditional robe here.
You have deserved nobly of your country, and you have not deserved nobly.
You’ve earned a lot of respect from your country, and you haven’t earned respect at all.
Your enigma?
What’s that supposed to mean?
You have been a scourge to her enemies, you have been a rod to her friends; you have not indeed loved the common people.
You’ve been a punishment to her enemies, you’ve been a punishment to her friends; you really haven’t loved the common people.
You should account me the more virtuous that I have not been common in my love. I will, sir, flatter my sworn brother, the people, to earn a dearer estimation of them; ’tis a condition they account gentle: and since the wisdom of their choice is rather to have my hat than my heart, I will practise the insinuating nod and be off to them most counterfeitly; that is, sir, I will counterfeit the bewitchment of some popular man and give it bountiful to the desirers. Therefore, beseech you, I may be consul.
You should consider me more virtuous because I haven’t been ordinary in my love. I’ll, sir, flatter my sworn brother, the people, to earn a greater respect from them; it’s a trait they consider noble: and since their choice is more about having my approval than my affection, I’ll play the part of the flattering leader and pretend to be one of them; that is, sir, I’ll imitate the charm of a popular man and give it generously to those who want it. So, I beg you, let me be consul.
We hope to find you our friend; and therefore give you our voices heartily.
We hope to find you as our friend, so we give you our votes with all our hearts.
You have received many wounds for your country.
You’ve taken many wounds for your country.
I will not seal your knowledge with showing them. I will make much of your voices, and so trouble you no further.
I won’t prove your point by showing them. I’ll accept your votes, and won’t bother you any more.
The gods give you joy, sir, heartily!
May the gods bless you, sir, with joy!
Most sweet voices! Better it is to die, better to starve, Than crave the hire which first we do deserve. Why in this woolvish toge should I stand here, To beg of Hob and Dick, that do appear, Their needless vouches? Custom calls me to’t: What custom wills, in all things should we do’t, The dust on antique time would lie unswept, And mountainous error be too highly heapt For truth to o’er-peer. Rather than fool it so, Let the high office and the honour go To one that would do thus. I am half through; The one part suffer’d, the other will I do.
What sweet voices! It’s better to die, better to starve, Than beg for the reward that we’ve already earned. Why should I stand here in this woolen robe, Begging from every common man, who just show up And give their pointless endorsements? Tradition calls me to do it: What tradition wants, we should all follow, Or else the dust of ancient customs will remain untouched, And foolish mistakes will pile up so high That truth won’t be able to reach it. Better than acting like a fool, Let the high office and honor go To someone who’s willing to do it this way. I’m halfway done; I’ve suffered one part, now I’ll do the other.
Here come more voices. Your voices: for your voices I have fought; Watch’d for your voices; for Your voices bear Of wounds two dozen odd; battles thrice six I have seen and heard of; for your voices have Done many things, some less, some more your voices: Indeed I would be consul.
Now here come more votes. Your votes: for your votes, I’ve fought; Watched for your votes; for your votes, I’ve earned A couple dozen wounds; fought in many battles I’ve seen and heard about; because of your votes, I’ve Done so many things, some less, some more, thanks to your votes: Honestly, I would be consul.
He has done nobly, and cannot go without any honest man’s voice.
He’s acted nobly, and no honest person can deny his worth.
Therefore let him be consul: the gods give him joy, and make him good friend to the people!
So let him be consul: may the gods give him joy, and make him a good friend to the people!
Amen, amen. God save thee, noble consul!
Amen, amen. God save you, noble consul!
Worthy voices!
Good voices!
You have stood your limitation; and the tribunes Endue you with the people’s voice: remains That, in the official marks invested, you Anon do meet the senate.
You’ve completed your duty; and the tribunes Have given you the people’s approval: the only thing left Is that, once you’re formally marked, you Quickly go to the senate.
Is this done?
Is this done?
The custom of request you have discharged: The people do admit you, and are summon’d To meet anon, upon your approbation.
You’ve fulfilled the usual request: The people accept you, and are called To meet soon, once you are officially approved.
Where? at the senate-house?
Where? At the senate-house?
There, Coriolanus.
Yes, Coriolanus.
May I change these garments?
Can I change my clothes?
You may, sir.
Yes, you can, sir.
That I’ll straight do; and, knowing myself again, Repair to the senate-house.
I’ll do that right away; and, once I recognize myself again, I’ll go to the senate-house.
I’ll keep you company. Will you along?
I’ll come with you. Will you go too?
We stay here for the people.
We’ll stay here for the people.
Fare you well.
Goodbye.
He has it now, and by his looks methink ’Tis warm at ’s heart.
He has it now, and from the look on his face, I think It’s something he feels strongly about.
With a proud heart he wore his humble weeds. will you dismiss the people?
He wore his humble clothes with pride. Will you send the people away?
How now, my masters! have you chose this man?
So, what’s the matter, my friends? Did you choose this man?
He has our voices, sir.
He has our support, sir.
We pray the gods he may deserve your loves.
We pray the gods that he may deserve your love.
Amen, sir: to my poor unworthy notice, He mock’d us when he begg’d our voices.
Amen, sir: to my poor, unworthy opinion, He mocked us when he begged for our votes.
Certainly He flouted us downright.
Definitely He insulted us directly.
No,’tis his kind of speech: he did not mock us.
No, that’s just the way he talks: he didn’t mock us.
Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says He used us scornfully: he should have show’d us His marks of merit, wounds received for’s country.
No one except you, sir, says he didn’t mock us. He should have shown us His signs of honor, wounds he got for his country.
Why, so he did, I am sure.
Well, I’m sure he did.
No, no; no man saw ’em.
No, no; no one saw them.
He said he had wounds, which he could show in private; And with his hat, thus waving it in scorn, ’I would be consul,’ says he: ’aged custom, But by your voices, will not so permit me; Your voices therefore.’ When we granted that, Here was ’I thank you for your voices: thank you: Your most sweet voices: now you have left your voices, I have no further with you.’ Was not this mockery?
He said he had wounds, which he could show in private; And with his hat, waving it in scorn, "I would be consul," says he: "But the old customs Won’t allow it. So, I need your votes." When we gave him that, He said, "Thank you for your votes. Thank you: Your sweet voices: now that you’ve given them, I have no more use for you." Wasn’t that mockery?
Why either were you ignorant to see’t, Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness To yield your voices?
Why, were you too ignorant to see it, Or, if you saw it, too childish and friendly To refuse to give him your votes?
Could you not have told him As you were lesson’d, when he had no power, But was a petty servant to the state, He was your enemy, ever spake against Your liberties and the charters that you bear I’ the body of the weal; and now, arriving A place of potency and sway o’ the state, If he should still malignantly remain Fast foe to the plebeii, your voices might Be curses to yourselves? You should have said That as his worthy deeds did claim no less Than what he stood for, so his gracious nature Would think upon you for your voices and Translate his malice towards you into love, Standing your friendly lord.
Couldn’t you have told him As you were taught, that when he had no power, But was just a minor servant of the state, He was your enemy, always speaking against Your freedoms and the rights you have As part of the body of the state? And now, having arrived At a position of power and control over the state, If he still remains hostile to the common people, Your votes might turn into curses for yourselves. You should have said That while his deeds deserved what he sought, His gracious nature would make him thank you for your votes, And turn his hostility into love, Becoming your loyal lord.
Thus to have said, As you were fore-advised, had touch’d his spirit And tried his inclination; from him pluck’d Either his gracious promise, which you might, As cause had call’d you up, have held him to Or else it would have gall’d his surly nature, Which easily endures not article Tying him to aught; so putting him to rage, You should have ta’en the advantage of his choler And pass’d him unelected.
If you had said that, As you were advised, it would have affected him And tested his attitude. From him, you could have pulled Either his gracious promise, which you could have held him to, Or else, it would have made him angry, Which he can’t easily stand. By making him angry, you could have taken advantage of his rage And left him unelected.
Did you perceive He did solicit you in free contempt When he did need your loves, and do you think That his contempt shall not be bruising to you, When he hath power to crush? Why, had your bodies No heart among you? or had you tongues to cry Against the rectorship of judgment?
Didn’t you notice He treated you with open contempt When he needed your support, and do you think His contempt won’t hurt you When he has the power to crush you? Why, didn’t you have Any backbone? Or did you not speak up Against such unfair judgment?
Have you Ere now denied the asker? and now again Of him that did not ask, but mock, bestow Your sued-for tongues?
Have you Ever refused the person asking before? And now again Are you giving your support to someone who didn’t ask, but mocked you, by giving Your tongues that you begged for?
He’s not confirm’d; we may deny him yet.
He’s not confirmed yet; we can still deny him.
And will deny him: I’ll have five hundred voices of that sound.
And we will deny him: I’ll get five hundred voices to oppose him.
I twice five hundred and their friends to piece ’em.
I’ll get another five hundred, and their friends, to break him down.
Get you hence instantly, and tell those friends, They have chose a consul that will from them take Their liberties; make them of no more voice Than dogs that are as often beat for barking As therefore kept to do so.
Get out of here right now, and tell those people, They have chosen a consul who will take Away their freedoms; make them as voiceless As dogs, who are punished for barking But are kept around to do so anyway.
Let them assemble, And on a safer judgment all revoke Your ignorant election; enforce his pride, And his old hate unto you; besides, forget not With what contempt he wore the humble weed, How in his suit he scorn’d you; but your loves, Thinking upon his services, took from you The apprehension of his present portance, Which most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion After the inveterate hate he bears you.
Let them gather, And with a clearer judgment, all take back Your foolish decision; force his arrogance, And his old hatred towards you; also, don’t forget How he wore his humble clothing with disdain, How he mocked you in his suit; but your affection, Remembering his past services, made you forget The way he currently presents himself, Which he shamelessly and disrespectfully shaped In the way of his deep-rooted hate for you.
Lay A fault on us, your tribunes; that we laboured, No impediment between, but that you must Cast your election on him.
Blame Us, your tribunes, for working so hard, With no obstacles in the way, but that you had to Choose him for consul.
Say, you chose him More after our commandment than as guided By your own true affections, and that your minds, Preoccupied with what you rather must do Than what you should, made you against the grain To voice him consul: lay the fault on us.
Say you chose him More because we told you to, than because of your own true feelings, And that your minds, Already influenced by what you had to do Rather than what you should do, made you go along with it, Even though it went against your will. Blame us for the decision.
Ay, spare us not. Say we read lectures to you. How youngly he began to serve his country, How long continued, and what stock he springs of, The noble house o’ the Marcians, from whence came That Ancus Marcius, Numa’s daughter’s son, Who, after great Hostilius, here was king; Of the same house Publius and Quintus were, That our beat water brought by conduits hither; And [Censorinus,] nobly named so, Twice being [by the people chosen] censor, Was his great ancestor.
Yes, don’t hold back. Say we lectured you. How young he was when he first served the country, How long he served, and what noble family he comes from, The great house of the Marcians, from which came Ancus Marcius, son of Numa’s daughter, Who, after Hostilius, was king here; From the same family came Publius and Quintus, Whose water was brought here through aqueducts; And [Censorinus,] greatly honored, Twice chosen censor by the people, Was his great ancestor.
One thus descended, That hath beside well in his person wrought To be set high in place, we did commend To your remembrances: but you have found, Scaling his present bearing with his past, That he’s your fixed enemy, and revoke Your sudden approbation.
One so well-born, Who has also shown himself worthy to be elevated To high office, we reminded you of; but now you’ve seen, By comparing his current behavior with his past, That he is your fixed enemy, and you should take back Your sudden approval.
Say, you ne’er had done’t-- Harp on that still--but by our putting on; And presently, when you have drawn your number, Repair to the Capitol.
Say, you never would’ve done it-- Keep saying that--except for our urging; And right now, when you’ve gathered your votes, Go to the Capitol.
We will so: almost all Repent in their election.
We will: almost all Regret our decision to elect him.
Let them go on; This mutiny were better put in hazard, Than stay, past doubt, for greater: If, as his nature is, he fall in rage With their refusal, both observe and answer The vantage of his anger.
Let them go; It’s better to risk this rebellion now, Than let it stay and cause even bigger problems: If, as he often does, he gets enraged By their refusal, both watch and respond To the advantage of his anger.
To the Capitol, come: We will be there before the stream o’ the people; And this shall seem, as partly ’tis, their own, Which we have goaded onward.
To the Capitol, come: We’ll be there ahead of the crowd; And this will seem, as it partly is, their own decision, Which we’ve pushed them toward.