Second Servingman in Coriolanus

The Second Servingman is one of three household servants attending Aufidius in Antium, and his primary function in Act 4, Scene 5 is to represent the common soldier’s perspective on Coriolanus’ mysterious arrival. When an unknown ragged man appears at Aufidius’ house during a feast, the Second Servingman is tasked with turning away this apparent beggar—a role he executes with the casual dismissal of one accustomed to maintaining household order. His lines reveal the practical, unsentimental view of servants: he threatens to beat the stranger and repeatedly insists he leave, caring nothing for dignity or circumstance. What makes this character significant is his sudden shift when Coriolanus reveals his identity. The Second Servingman becomes one of the first to recognize the magnitude of what has just occurred, marveling at the transformation before him and engaging in shrewd commentary about the power dynamics now reshaping the Volscian camp.

Though his total speaking part is modest—fewer than twenty lines across a single scene—the Second Servingman serves a crucial function as a barometer of how Coriolanus is perceived by ordinary soldiers and household folk. After the initial confrontation, he participates in the amazed discussion among the three servants, noting that despite the stranger’s tattered appearance, something in his bearing and bearing suggested nobility. His observation that he “would have beaten him like a dog, but for disturbing the lords within” hints at the hierarchical constraints that govern even a servant’s violence. When he observes that the man “turned me about with his finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top,” he captures Coriolanus’ raw physical power and the awe it inspires, even in those of humble station.

The Second Servingman’s presence also grounds the play’s larger themes in the everyday world. While senators and generals debate honor, mercy, and betrayal in lofty terms, these servants see the immediate, tangible reality: a man of extraordinary presence has arrived with the potential to reshape their master’s fortunes. His casual assessment that there is “a greater soldier than he you wot on”—namely Aufidius himself—reflects the competitive, pragmatic world of military service. By play’s end, when Aufidius orchestrates Coriolanus’ murder, the Second Servingman has already witnessed the seeds of that tragedy: a man so great that ordinary people can barely comprehend his nature, yet so bound by pride and circumstance that even recognition and welcome cannot save him from destruction.