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Go tell the lords o’ the city I am here: Deliver them this paper: having read it, Bid them repair to the 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 to appear before the people, hoping To purge herself with words: dispatch.
Go tell the lords of the city I am here: Give them this paper; after they have read it, Tell them to go to the marketplace, where I, In front of both them and the common people, Will confirm the truth of it. I accuse him, By this document, of entering the city gates And planning to appear before the people, hoping To clear himself with words. Hurry.
Most welcome!
Most welcome!
How is it with our general?
How is it with our general?
Even so As with a man by his own alms empoison’d, And with his charity slain.
Even so, As with a man poisoned by his own alms, And killed by the charity he gave.
Most noble sir, If you do hold the same intent wherein You wish’d us parties, we’ll deliver you Of your great danger.
Most noble sir, If you still have the same intention as before, Wherein you wanted us as allies, we’ll free you From your great danger.
Sir, I cannot tell: We must proceed as we do find the people.
Sir, I cannot say: We must proceed as we find the people.
The people will remain uncertain whilst ’Twixt you there’s difference; but the fall of either Makes the survivor heir of all.
The people will stay uncertain as long as There is conflict between you; but the downfall of either Makes the survivor the heir of everything.
I know it; And my pretext to strike at him admits A good construction. I raised him, and I pawn’d Mine honour for his truth: who being so heighten’d, He water’d 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.
I know it; And my reason for striking at him can be seen in a good light. I raised him, and I pledged my honor for his truth: But when he rose to such a high position, He watered his new power with flattery, Leading my friends astray; and, to achieve this, He changed his nature, which had never been known before Except as rough, stubborn, and free.
Sir, his stoutness When he did stand for consul, which he lost By lack of stooping,--
Sir, his boldness When he ran for consul, which he lost By not lowering himself.
That I would have spoke 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; served 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 waged me with his countenance, as if I had been mercenary.
That I would have spoken of: Being banished for it, he came to my home; Offered his throat to my knife: I took him in; Made him my equal, gave him free rein In all his desires; even let him choose From my resources, the best and most capable men, To carry out his plans; served his ambitions With my own efforts; helped him gain the fame He ended up claiming as his own; and I even took pride In doing myself this wrong. Until, at last, I seemed like his follower, not his partner, and He treated me with contempt, as if I had been a mercenary.
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,--
So he did, my lord: The army marveled at it, and, in the end, When he had conquered Rome and we expected Nothing less than both spoil and glory.
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!
There it was: For which my strength will be used against him. For a few tears from women, which are As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and effort Of our great achievement: therefore, he shall die, And I’ll renew myself in his downfall. But, listen!
Your native town you enter’d like a post, And had no welcomes home: but he returns, Splitting the air with noise.
You entered your hometown like a stranger, And received no warm welcome; but he returns, Splitting the air with his loud noise.
And patient fools, Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear With giving him glory.
And patient fools, Whose children he has slain, tear their own throats By giving him glory.
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 pronounced shall bury His reasons with his body.
Therefore, at your advantage, Before he can speak or sway the people With what he intends to say, let him feel your sword, Which we will support. When he falls, After you’ve struck, his story will be buried Along with his reasons and his body.
Say no more: Here come the lords.
Say no more: Here come the lords.
You are most welcome home.
You are most welcome home.
I have not deserved it. But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused What I have written to you?
I have not deserved it. But, worthy lords, have you carefully read What I have written to you?
We have.
We have.
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.
And grieve to hear it. The faults he made before the end, I think, Might have been forgiven easily: but to end Where he should have begun, and give away The benefit of our levies, answering us With our own resources, making a treaty where There was no real surrender—this admits no excuse.
He approaches: you shall hear him.
He approaches: you shall hear him.
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 Do 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 the Romans: and we here deliver, Subscribed by the consuls and patricians, Together with the seal o’ the senate, what We have compounded on.
Hail, lords! I have returned as your soldier, No more affected by my country’s love Than when I left, but still serving Under your great command. You should know That I have successfully carried out my mission and With bloody steps led your wars right to The gates of Rome. The spoils we brought home More than cover a third of the costs of the action. We have made peace With as much honor to the Antiates As shame to the Romans. And here we present, Signed by the consuls and patricians, Along with the seal of the Senate, what We have agreed upon.
Read it not, noble lords; But tell the traitor, in the high’st degree He hath abused your powers.
Do not read it, noble lords; But tell the traitor, in the highest degree, That he has abused your powers.
Traitor! how now!
Traitor! how now!
Ay, traitor, Marcius!
Ay, traitor, Marcius!
Marcius!
Marcius!
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’ the 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’ the war, but at his nurse’s tears He whined and roar’d away your victory, That pages blush’d at him and men of heart Look’d wondering each at other.
Yes, Marcius, Caius Marcius: do you think I’ll honor you with that stolen title, Coriolanus, in Corioli? You lords and leaders of the state, he has deceitfully Betrayed your cause, giving up, For mere drops of salt, your city Rome— I say your city, to his wife and mother. He broke his oath and resolve like A piece of rotten silk, never listening To the counsel of war, but at his nurse’s tears He wept and roared away your victory, Until even servants were embarrassed by him, And men of courage looked at each other in disbelief.
Hear’st thou, Mars?
Do you hear, Mars?
Name not the god, thou boy of tears!
Do not mention the god, you boy of tears!
Ha!
Ha!
No more.
No more.
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 forced 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.
Unmeasurable liar, you have made my heart Too great for what it can hold. Boy! Oh, slave! Forgive me, lords, this is the first time I’ve ever had to scold. Your judgments, my honorable lords, Must contradict this dog’s lies: and his own actions— Who bears my marks upon him; Who must carry my punishment to his grave— Will join in proving the lie he tells.
Peace, both, and hear me speak.
Calm down, both of you, and listen to me.
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!
Cut me to pieces, Volscians; all of you, young and old, Use your swords on me. Boy! You traitor! If your history is correct, it says that I, Like an eagle in a dove’s nest, Scared your Volscian soldiers in Corioli. I did it all by myself. Boy!
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?
Why, noble lords, Will you let this shameless boastful man remind you of his luck, Which brought you shame, right in front of your own eyes and ears?
Let him die for’t.
Let him die for it.
’Tear him to pieces.’ ’Do it presently.’ ’He kill’d my son.’ ’My daughter.’ ’He killed my cousin Marcus.’ ’He killed my father.’
‘Tear him apart.’ ‘Do it right now.’ ‘He killed my son.’ ‘My daughter.’ ‘He killed my cousin, Marcus.’ ‘He killed my father.’
Peace, ho! no outrage: peace! The man is noble and his fame folds-in This orb o’ the earth. His last offences to us Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius, And trouble not the peace.
Stop! No violence! Peace! This man is noble, and his reputation stretches Across the entire world. His recent wrongs against us Will be fairly judged. Stand down, Aufidius, And don’t disturb the peace.
O that I had him, With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, To use my lawful sword!
Oh, if only I had him, Along with six more like Aufidius and his people, To fight with my rightful sword!
Insolent villain!
Insolent villain!
Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him!
Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him!
Hold, hold, hold, hold!
Hold, hold, hold, hold!
My noble masters, hear me speak.
My noble masters, let me speak.
O Tullus,--
O Tullus,--
Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep.
TYou have done something that even courage itself will mourn.
Tread not upon him. Masters all, be quiet; Put up your swords.
Don’t step on him. Everyone, be quiet; Put away your swords.
My lords, when you shall know--as in this rage, Provoked 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.
My lords, when you understand--though in your anger, Which he provoked, you cannot see it right now-- The great danger this man’s life posed to you, You will be glad that he’s been removed. If you would like, call me to the senate, And I will prove myself your loyal servant, Or accept whatever punishment you think I deserve.
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 urn.
Take his body away from here, And mourn for him. Let him be remembered As the most honorable dead man ever Who a herald has led to his final resting place.
His own impatience Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame. Let’s make the best of it.
His own impatience Takes away much of the blame from Aufidius. Let’s make the most of this situation.
My rage is gone; And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up. Help, three o’ the chiefest soldiers; I’ll be one. Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully: Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he Hath widow’d and unchilded many a one, Which to this hour bewail the injury, Yet he shall have a noble memory. Assist.
My anger is gone, And now I am filled with sorrow. Lift him up. Help me, three of the top soldiers; I’ll be one of them. Beat the drum slowly, so it sounds mournful. Drag your spears along the ground. Though in this city he Has left many widows and orphans, Who still mourn the harm he caused, He will still be remembered with honor. Help me.