Act IV, Scene I — The same…

Act IV, Scene I — The same

Enter Merchant, Angelo and an Officer.

MERCHANT. You know since Pentecost the sum is due, And since I have not much importun’d you, Nor now I had not, but that I am bound To Persia, and want guilders for my voyage; Therefore make present satisfaction, Or I’ll attach you by this officer.

ANGELO. Even just the sum that I do owe to you Is growing to me by Antipholus, And in the instant that I met with you He had of me a chain; at five o’clock I shall receive the money for the same. Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house, I will discharge my bond, and thank you too.

Enter Antipholus of Ephesus and Dromio of Ephesus from the Courtesan’s.

OFFICER. That labour may you save. See where he comes.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. While I go to the goldsmith’s house, go thou And buy a rope’s end; that will I bestow Among my wife and her confederates For locking me out of my doors by day. But soft, I see the goldsmith; get thee gone; Buy thou a rope, and bring it home to me.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. I buy a thousand pound a year! I buy a rope!

[Exit Dromio.]

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. A man is well holp up that trusts to you, I promised your presence and the chain, But neither chain nor goldsmith came to me. Belike you thought our love would last too long If it were chain’d together, and therefore came not.

ANGELO. Saving your merry humour, here’s the note How much your chain weighs to the utmost carat, The fineness of the gold, and chargeful fashion, Which doth amount to three odd ducats more Than I stand debted to this gentleman. I pray you, see him presently discharg’d, For he is bound to sea, and stays but for it.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. I am not furnished with the present money; Besides, I have some business in the town. Good signior, take the stranger to my house, And with you take the chain, and bid my wife Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof; Perchance I will be there as soon as you.

ANGELO. Then you will bring the chain to her yourself.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. No, bear it with you, lest I come not time enough.

ANGELO. Well, sir, I will. Have you the chain about you?

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. And if I have not, sir, I hope you have, Or else you may return without your money.

ANGELO. Nay, come, I pray you, sir, give me the chain; Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman, And I, to blame, have held him here too long.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Good Lord, you use this dalliance to excuse Your breach of promise to the Porpentine. I should have chid you for not bringing it, But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl.

MERCHANT. The hour steals on; I pray you, sir, dispatch.

ANGELO. You hear how he importunes me. The chain!

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Why, give it to my wife, and fetch your money.

ANGELO. Come, come, you know I gave it you even now. Either send the chain or send by me some token.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Fie, now you run this humour out of breath. Come, where’s the chain? I pray you, let me see it.

MERCHANT. My business cannot brook this dalliance. Good sir, say whe’er you’ll answer me or no; If not, I’ll leave him to the officer.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. I answer you? What should I answer you?

ANGELO. The money that you owe me for the chain.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. I owe you none till I receive the chain.

ANGELO. You know I gave it you half an hour since.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. You gave me none. You wrong me much to say so.

ANGELO. You wrong me more, sir, in denying it. Consider how it stands upon my credit.

MERCHANT. Well, officer, arrest him at my suit.

OFFICER. I do, and charge you in the duke’s name to obey me.

ANGELO. This touches me in reputation. Either consent to pay this sum for me, Or I attach you by this officer.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Consent to pay thee that I never had? Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou dar’st.

ANGELO. Here is thy fee; arrest him, officer. I would not spare my brother in this case If he should scorn me so apparently.

OFFICER. I do arrest you, sir. You hear the suit.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. I do obey thee till I give thee bail. But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear As all the metal in your shop will answer.

ANGELO. Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephesus, To your notorious shame, I doubt it not.

Enter Dromio of Syracuse from the bay.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Master, there’s a bark of Epidamnum That stays but till her owner comes aboard, And then, sir, bears away. Our fraughtage, sir, I have convey’d aboard, and I have bought The oil, the balsamum, and aqua-vitae. The ship is in her trim; the merry wind Blows fair from land; they stay for nought at all But for their owner, master, and yourself.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. How now? a madman? Why, thou peevish sheep, What ship of Epidamnum stays for me?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. A ship you sent me to, to hire waftage.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for a rope, And told thee to what purpose and what end.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. You sent me for a rope’s end as soon. You sent me to the bay, sir, for a bark.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. I will debate this matter at more leisure, And teach your ears to list me with more heed. To Adriana, villain, hie thee straight: Give her this key, and tell her in the desk That’s cover’d o’er with Turkish tapestry There is a purse of ducats; let her send it. Tell her I am arrested in the street, And that shall bail me. Hie thee, slave; be gone. On, officer, to prison till it come.

[Exeunt Merchant, Angelo, Officer and Antipholus of Ephesus.]

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. To Adriana, that is where we din’d, Where Dowsabel did claim me for her husband. She is too big, I hope, for me to compass. Thither I must, although against my will, For servants must their masters’ minds fulfil.

[Exit.]

Act IV, Scene II — The same

Enter Adriana and Luciana.

ADRIANA. Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so? Might’st thou perceive austerely in his eye That he did plead in earnest, yea or no? Look’d he or red or pale, or sad or merrily? What observation mad’st thou in this case Of his heart’s meteors tilting in his face?

LUCIANA. First he denied you had in him no right.

ADRIANA. He meant he did me none; the more my spite.

LUCIANA. Then swore he that he was a stranger here.

ADRIANA. And true he swore, though yet forsworn he were.

LUCIANA. Then pleaded I for you.

ADRIANA. And what said he?

LUCIANA. That love I begg’d for you he begg’d of me.

ADRIANA. With what persuasion did he tempt thy love?

LUCIANA. With words that in an honest suit might move. First he did praise my beauty, then my speech.

ADRIANA. Did’st speak him fair?

LUCIANA. Have patience, I beseech.

ADRIANA. I cannot, nor I will not hold me still. My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will. He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere, Ill-fac’d, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere; Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind, Stigmatical in making, worse in mind.

LUCIANA. Who would be jealous then of such a one? No evil lost is wail’d when it is gone.

ADRIANA. Ah, but I think him better than I say, And yet would herein others’ eyes were worse: Far from her nest the lapwing cries away; My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse.

Enter Dromio of Syracuse.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Here, go; the desk, the purse, sweet now, make haste.

LUCIANA. How hast thou lost thy breath?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. By running fast.

ADRIANA. Where is thy master, Dromio? is he well?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. No, he’s in Tartar limbo, worse than hell. A devil in an everlasting garment hath him, One whose hard heart is button’d up with steel; A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough; A wolf, nay worse, a fellow all in buff; A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that countermands The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow lands; A hound that runs counter, and yet draws dryfoot well, One that, before the judgement, carries poor souls to hell.

ADRIANA. Why, man, what is the matter?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. I do not know the matter. He is ’rested on the case.

ADRIANA. What, is he arrested? Tell me at whose suit?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. I know not at whose suit he is arrested, well; But he’s in a suit of buff which ’rested him, that can I tell. Will you send him, mistress, redemption, the money in his desk?

ADRIANA. Go fetch it, sister. This I wonder at,

[Exit Luciana.]

Thus he unknown to me should be in debt. Tell me, was he arrested on a band?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing; A chain, a chain. Do you not hear it ring?

ADRIANA. What, the chain?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. No, no, the bell, ’tis time that I were gone. It was two ere I left him, and now the clock strikes one.

ADRIANA. The hours come back! That did I never hear.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. O yes, if any hour meet a sergeant, ’a turns back for very fear.

ADRIANA. As if time were in debt. How fondly dost thou reason!

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Time is a very bankrupt, and owes more than he’s worth to season. Nay, he’s a thief too. Have you not heard men say That time comes stealing on by night and day? If he be in debt and theft, and a sergeant in the way, Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day?

Enter Luciana.

ADRIANA. Go, Dromio, there’s the money, bear it straight, And bring thy master home immediately. Come, sister, I am press’d down with conceit; Conceit, my comfort and my injury.

[Exeunt.]

Act IV, Scene III — The same

Enter Antipholus of Syracuse.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. There’s not a man I meet but doth salute me As if I were their well-acquainted friend, And everyone doth call me by my name. Some tender money to me, some invite me; Some other give me thanks for kindnesses; Some offer me commodities to buy. Even now a tailor call’d me in his shop, And show’d me silks that he had bought for me, And therewithal took measure of my body. Sure, these are but imaginary wiles, And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here.

Enter Dromio of Syracuse.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Master, here’s the gold you sent me for. What, have you got the picture of old Adam new apparelled?

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. What gold is this? What Adam dost thou mean?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Not that Adam that kept the paradise, but that Adam that keeps the prison; he that goes in the calf’s skin that was killed for the Prodigal; he that came behind you, sir, like an evil angel, and bid you forsake your liberty.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. I understand thee not.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. No? Why, ’tis a plain case: he that went like a bass-viol in a case of leather; the man, sir, that, when gentlemen are tired, gives them a sob, and ’rests them; he, sir, that takes pity on decayed men and gives them suits of durance; he that sets up his rest to do more exploits with his mace than a morris-pike.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. What! thou mean’st an officer?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Ay, sir, the sergeant of the band; he that brings any man to answer it that breaks his band; one that thinks a man always going to bed, and says, “God give you good rest.”

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Well, sir, there rest in your foolery. Is there any ship puts forth tonight? may we be gone?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Why, sir, I brought you word an hour since that the bark Expedition put forth tonight, and then were you hindered by the sergeant to tarry for the hoy Delay. Here are the angels that you sent for to deliver you.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. The fellow is distract, and so am I, And here we wander in illusions. Some blessed power deliver us from hence!

Enter a Courtesan.

COURTESAN. Well met, well met, Master Antipholus. I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now. Is that the chain you promis’d me today?

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Satan, avoid! I charge thee, tempt me not.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Master, is this Mistress Satan?

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. It is the devil.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Nay, she is worse, she is the devil’s dam; and here she comes in the habit of a light wench, and thereof comes that the wenches say “God damn me”, that’s as much to say, “God make me a light wench.” It is written they appear to men like angels of light. Light is an effect of fire, and fire will burn; ergo, light wenches will burn. Come not near her.

COURTESAN. Your man and you are marvellous merry, sir. Will you go with me? We’ll mend our dinner here.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Master, if you do, expect spoon-meat, or bespeak a long spoon.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Why, Dromio?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Marry, he must have a long spoon that must eat with the devil.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Avoid then, fiend! What tell’st thou me of supping? Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress. I conjure thee to leave me and be gone.

COURTESAN. Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner, Or, for my diamond, the chain you promis’d, And I’ll be gone, sir, and not trouble you.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Some devils ask but the paring of one’s nail, A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin, A nut, a cherry-stone; but she, more covetous, Would have a chain. Master, be wise; and if you give it her, The devil will shake her chain and fright us with it.

COURTESAN. I pray you, sir, my ring, or else the chain; I hope you do not mean to cheat me so.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Avaunt, thou witch! Come, Dromio, let us go.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Fly pride, says the peacock. Mistress, that you know.

[Exeunt Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse.]

COURTESAN. Now, out of doubt Antipholus is mad, Else would he never so demean himself. A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats, And for the same he promis’d me a chain; Both one and other he denies me now. The reason that I gather he is mad, Besides this present instance of his rage, Is a mad tale he told today at dinner Of his own doors being shut against his entrance. Belike his wife, acquainted with his fits, On purpose shut the doors against his way. My way is now to hie home to his house, And tell his wife that, being lunatic, He rush’d into my house and took perforce My ring away. This course I fittest choose, For forty ducats is too much to lose.

[Exit.]

Act IV, Scene IV — The same

Enter Antipholus of Ephesus with an Officer.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Fear me not, man, I will not break away: I’ll give thee ere I leave thee so much money, To warrant thee, as I am ’rested for. My wife is in a wayward mood today, And will not lightly trust the messenger That I should be attach’d in Ephesus; I tell you ’twill sound harshly in her ears.

Enter Dromio of Ephesus with a rope’s end.

Here comes my man. I think he brings the money. How now, sir! have you that I sent you for?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Here’s that, I warrant you, will pay them all.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. But where’s the money?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Why, sir, I gave the money for the rope.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Five hundred ducats, villain, for a rope?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. I’ll serve you, sir, five hundred at the rate.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. To a rope’s end, sir; and to that end am I return’d.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. And to that end, sir, I will welcome you.

[Beating him.]

OFFICER. Good sir, be patient.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Nay, ’tis for me to be patient. I am in adversity.

OFFICER. Good now, hold thy tongue.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Nay, rather persuade him to hold his hands.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Thou whoreson, senseless villain.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. I would I were senseless, sir, that I might not feel your blows.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Thou art sensible in nothing but blows, and so is an ass.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. I am an ass indeed; you may prove it by my long ears. I have served him from the hour of my nativity to this instant, and have nothing at his hands for my service but blows. When I am cold, he heats me with beating; when I am warm he cools me with beating. I am waked with it when I sleep, raised with it when I sit, driven out of doors with it when I go from home, welcomed home with it when I return. Nay, I bear it on my shoulders as a beggar wont her brat; and I think when he hath lamed me, I shall beg with it from door to door.

Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtesan and a Schoolmaster called Pinch.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Come, go along, my wife is coming yonder.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Mistress, respice finem, respect your end, or rather, the prophesy like the parrot, “Beware the rope’s end.”

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Wilt thou still talk?

[Beats him.]

COURTESAN. How say you now? Is not your husband mad?

ADRIANA. His incivility confirms no less. Good Doctor Pinch, you are a conjurer; Establish him in his true sense again, And I will please you what you will demand.

LUCIANA. Alas, how fiery and how sharp he looks!

COURTESAN. Mark how he trembles in his ecstasy.

PINCH. Give me your hand, and let me feel your pulse.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. There is my hand, and let it feel your ear.

PINCH. I charge thee, Satan, hous’d within this man, To yield possession to my holy prayers, And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight. I conjure thee by all the saints in heaven.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Peace, doting wizard, peace; I am not mad.

ADRIANA. O, that thou wert not, poor distressed soul!

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. You minion, you, are these your customers? Did this companion with the saffron face Revel and feast it at my house today, Whilst upon me the guilty doors were shut, And I denied to enter in my house?

ADRIANA. O husband, God doth know you din’d at home, Where would you had remain’d until this time, Free from these slanders and this open shame.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Din’d at home? Thou villain, what sayest thou?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Sir, sooth to say, you did not dine at home.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Were not my doors lock’d up and I shut out?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Perdy, your doors were lock’d, and you shut out.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. And did not she herself revile me there?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Sans fable, she herself revil’d you there.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Did not her kitchen-maid rail, taunt, and scorn me?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Certes, she did, the kitchen-vestal scorn’d you.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. And did not I in rage depart from thence?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. In verity, you did; my bones bear witness, That since have felt the vigour of his rage.

ADRIANA. Is’t good to soothe him in these contraries?

PINCH. It is no shame; the fellow finds his vein, And yielding to him, humours well his frenzy.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Thou hast suborn’d the goldsmith to arrest me.

ADRIANA. Alas! I sent you money to redeem you By Dromio here, who came in haste for it.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Money by me? Heart and goodwill you might, But surely, master, not a rag of money.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Went’st not thou to her for a purse of ducats?

ADRIANA. He came to me, and I deliver’d it.

LUCIANA. And I am witness with her that she did.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. God and the rope-maker bear me witness That I was sent for nothing but a rope.

PINCH. Mistress, both man and master is possess’d, I know it by their pale and deadly looks. They must be bound and laid in some dark room.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Say, wherefore didst thou lock me forth today, And why dost thou deny the bag of gold?

ADRIANA. I did not, gentle husband, lock thee forth.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. And gentle master, I receiv’d no gold; But I confess, sir, that we were lock’d out.

ADRIANA. Dissembling villain, thou speak’st false in both.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all, And art confederate with a damned pack To make a loathsome abject scorn of me. But with these nails I’ll pluck out these false eyes That would behold in me this shameful sport.

[_Enter three or four, and offer to bind him. He strives. _]

ADRIANA. O, bind him, bind him; let him not come near me.

PINCH. More company; the fiend is strong within him.

LUCIANA. Ay me, poor man, how pale and wan he looks!

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. What, will you murder me? Thou jailer, thou, I am thy prisoner. Wilt thou suffer them To make a rescue?

OFFICER. Masters, let him go. He is my prisoner, and you shall not have him.

PINCH. Go, bind this man, for he is frantic too.

ADRIANA. What wilt thou do, thou peevish officer? Hast thou delight to see a wretched man Do outrage and displeasure to himself?

OFFICER. He is my prisoner. If I let him go, The debt he owes will be requir’d of me.

ADRIANA. I will discharge thee ere I go from thee; Bear me forthwith unto his creditor, And knowing how the debt grows, I will pay it. Good master doctor, see him safe convey’d Home to my house. O most unhappy day!

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. O most unhappy strumpet!

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Master, I am here enter’d in bond for you.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Out on thee, villain! wherefore dost thou mad me?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Will you be bound for nothing? Be mad, good master; cry, “the devil”.

LUCIANA. God help, poor souls, how idly do they talk!

ADRIANA. Go bear him hence. Sister, go you with me.

[Exeunt Pinch and Assistants, with Antipholus of Ephesus and Dromio of Ephesus.]

Say now, whose suit is he arrested at?

OFFICER. One Angelo, a goldsmith; do you know him?

ADRIANA. I know the man. What is the sum he owes?

OFFICER. Two hundred ducats.

ADRIANA. Say, how grows it due?

OFFICER. Due for a chain your husband had of him.

ADRIANA. He did bespeak a chain for me, but had it not.

COURTESAN. When as your husband, all in rage, today Came to my house and took away my ring, The ring I saw upon his finger now, Straight after did I meet him with a chain.

ADRIANA. It may be so, but I did never see it. Come, jailer, bring me where the goldsmith is, I long to know the truth hereof at large.

Enter Antipholus of Syracuse with his rapier drawn, and Dromio of Syracuse.

LUCIANA. God, for thy mercy, they are loose again!

ADRIANA. And come with naked swords. Let’s call more help To have them bound again.

OFFICER. Away, they’ll kill us.

[Exeunt, as fast as may be, frighted.]

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. I see these witches are afraid of swords.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. She that would be your wife now ran from you.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Come to the Centaur, fetch our stuff from thence. I long that we were safe and sound aboard.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Faith, stay here this night, they will surely do us no harm; you saw they speak us fair, give us gold. Methinks they are such a gentle nation that, but for the mountain of mad flesh that claims marriage of me, I could find in my heart to stay here still and turn witch.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. I will not stay tonight for all the town; Therefore away, to get our stuff aboard.

[Exeunt.]

Act V, Scene I — The same

Enter Merchant and Angelo.

ANGELO. I am sorry, sir, that I have hinder’d you, But I protest he had the chain of me, Though most dishonestly he doth deny it.

MERCHANT. How is the man esteem’d here in the city?

ANGELO. Of very reverend reputation, sir, Of credit infinite, highly belov’d, Second to none that lives here in the city. His word might bear my wealth at any time.

MERCHANT. Speak softly. Yonder, as I think, he walks.

Enter Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse.

ANGELO. ’Tis so; and that self chain about his neck Which he forswore most monstrously to have. Good sir, draw near to me, I’ll speak to him. Signior Antipholus, I wonder much That you would put me to this shame and trouble, And not without some scandal to yourself, With circumstance and oaths so to deny This chain, which now you wear so openly. Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment, You have done wrong to this my honest friend, Who, but for staying on our controversy, Had hoisted sail and put to sea today. This chain you had of me, can you deny it?

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. I think I had: I never did deny it.

MERCHANT. Yes, that you did, sir, and forswore it too.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Who heard me to deny it or forswear it?

MERCHANT. These ears of mine, thou know’st, did hear thee. Fie on thee, wretch. ’Tis pity that thou liv’st To walk where any honest men resort.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Thou art a villain to impeach me thus; I’ll prove mine honour and mine honesty Against thee presently, if thou dar’st stand.

MERCHANT. I dare, and do defy thee for a villain.

[They draw.]

Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtesan and others.

ADRIANA. Hold, hurt him not, for God’s sake, he is mad. Some get within him, take his sword away. Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house.

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Run, master, run, for God’s sake, take a house. This is some priory; in, or we are spoil’d.

[Exeunt Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse to the priory.]

Enter Lady Abbess.

ABBESS. Be quiet, people. Wherefore throng you hither?

ADRIANA. To fetch my poor distracted husband hence. Let us come in, that we may bind him fast And bear him home for his recovery.

ANGELO. I knew he was not in his perfect wits.

MERCHANT. I am sorry now that I did draw on him.

ABBESS. How long hath this possession held the man?

ADRIANA. This week he hath been heavy, sour, sad, And much different from the man he was. But till this afternoon his passion Ne’er brake into extremity of rage.

ABBESS. Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck of sea? Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his eye Stray’d his affection in unlawful love? A sin prevailing much in youthful men Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing? Which of these sorrows is he subject to?

ADRIANA. To none of these, except it be the last, Namely, some love that drew him oft from home.

ABBESS. You should for that have reprehended him.

ADRIANA. Why, so I did.

ABBESS. Ay, but not rough enough.

ADRIANA. As roughly as my modesty would let me.

ABBESS. Haply in private.

ADRIANA. And in assemblies too.

ABBESS. Ay, but not enough.

ADRIANA. It was the copy of our conference. In bed he slept not for my urging it; At board he fed not for my urging it; Alone, it was the subject of my theme; In company I often glanced it; Still did I tell him it was vile and bad.

ABBESS. And thereof came it that the man was mad. The venom clamours of a jealous woman Poisons more deadly than a mad dog’s tooth. It seems his sleeps were hindered by thy railing, And thereof comes it that his head is light. Thou say’st his meat was sauc’d with thy upbraidings. Unquiet meals make ill digestions; Thereof the raging fire of fever bred, And what’s a fever but a fit of madness? Thou say’st his sports were hinder’d by thy brawls. Sweet recreation barr’d, what doth ensue But moody and dull melancholy, Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair, And at her heels a huge infectious troop Of pale distemperatures and foes to life? In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest To be disturb’d would mad or man or beast. The consequence is, then, thy jealous fits Hath scar’d thy husband from the use of’s wits.

LUCIANA. She never reprehended him but mildly, When he demean’d himself rough, rude, and wildly. Why bear you these rebukes and answer not?

ADRIANA. She did betray me to my own reproof. Good people, enter and lay hold on him.

ABBESS. No, not a creature enters in my house.

ADRIANA. Then let your servants bring my husband forth.

ABBESS. Neither. He took this place for sanctuary, And it shall privilege him from your hands Till I have brought him to his wits again, Or lose my labour in assaying it.

ADRIANA. I will attend my husband, be his nurse, Diet his sickness, for it is my office, And will have no attorney but myself; And therefore let me have him home with me.

ABBESS. Be patient, for I will not let him stir Till I have used the approved means I have, With wholesome syrups, drugs, and holy prayers, To make of him a formal man again. It is a branch and parcel of mine oath, A charitable duty of my order; Therefore depart, and leave him here with me.

ADRIANA. I will not hence and leave my husband here; And ill it doth beseem your holiness To separate the husband and the wife.

ABBESS. Be quiet and depart. Thou shalt not have him.

[Exit Abbess.]

LUCIANA. Complain unto the duke of this indignity.

ADRIANA. Come, go. I will fall prostrate at his feet, And never rise until my tears and prayers Have won his grace to come in person hither And take perforce my husband from the abbess.

MERCHANT. By this, I think, the dial points at five. Anon, I’m sure, the Duke himself in person Comes this way to the melancholy vale, The place of death and sorry execution Behind the ditches of the abbey here.

ANGELO. Upon what cause?

MERCHANT. To see a reverend Syracusian merchant, Who put unluckily into this bay Against the laws and statutes of this town, Beheaded publicly for his offence.

ANGELO. See where they come. We will behold his death.

LUCIANA. Kneel to the Duke before he pass the abbey.

Enter the Duke, attended; Egeon, bareheaded; with the Headsman and other Officers.

DUKE. Yet once again proclaim it publicly, If any friend will pay the sum for him, He shall not die; so much we tender him.

ADRIANA. Justice, most sacred duke, against the abbess!

DUKE. She is a virtuous and a reverend lady, It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong.

ADRIANA. May it please your grace, Antipholus, my husband, Who I made lord of me and all I had At your important letters, this ill day A most outrageous fit of madness took him; That desp’rately he hurried through the street, With him his bondman all as mad as he, Doing displeasure to the citizens By rushing in their houses, bearing thence Rings, jewels, anything his rage did like. Once did I get him bound and sent him home, Whilst to take order for the wrongs I went, That here and there his fury had committed. Anon, I wot not by what strong escape, He broke from those that had the guard of him, And with his mad attendant and himself, Each one with ireful passion, with drawn swords, Met us again, and, madly bent on us, Chased us away; till raising of more aid, We came again to bind them. Then they fled Into this abbey, whither we pursued them. And here the abbess shuts the gates on us, And will not suffer us to fetch him out, Nor send him forth that we may bear him hence. Therefore, most gracious duke, with thy command Let him be brought forth and borne hence for help.

DUKE. Long since thy husband serv’d me in my wars, And I to thee engag’d a prince’s word, When thou didst make him master of thy bed, To do him all the grace and good I could. Go, some of you, knock at the abbey gate, And bid the lady abbess come to me. I will determine this before I stir.

Enter a Messenger.

MESSENGER. O mistress, mistress, shift and save yourself. My master and his man are both broke loose, Beaten the maids a-row, and bound the doctor, Whose beard they have singed off with brands of fire, And ever as it blazed they threw on him Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair. My master preaches patience to him, and the while His man with scissors nicks him like a fool; And sure (unless you send some present help) Between them they will kill the conjurer.

ADRIANA. Peace, fool, thy master and his man are here, And that is false thou dost report to us.

MESSENGER. Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true. I have not breath’d almost since I did see it. He cries for you, and vows, if he can take you, To scorch your face and to disfigure you.

[Cry within.]

Hark, hark, I hear him, mistress. Fly, be gone!

DUKE. Come, stand by me, fear nothing. Guard with halberds.

ADRIANA. Ay me, it is my husband. Witness you That he is borne about invisible. Even now we hous’d him in the abbey here, And now he’s there, past thought of human reason.

Enter Antipholus and Dromio of Ephesus.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Justice, most gracious duke; O, grant me justice! Even for the service that long since I did thee When I bestrid thee in the wars, and took Deep scars to save thy life; even for the blood That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice.

EGEON. Unless the fear of death doth make me dote, I see my son Antipholus and Dromio.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Justice, sweet prince, against that woman there. She whom thou gav’st to me to be my wife; That hath abused and dishonour’d me Even in the strength and height of injury. Beyond imagination is the wrong That she this day hath shameless thrown on me.

DUKE. Discover how, and thou shalt find me just.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. This day, great duke, she shut the doors upon me While she with harlots feasted in my house.

DUKE. A grievous fault. Say, woman, didst thou so?

ADRIANA. No, my good lord. Myself, he, and my sister Today did dine together. So befall my soul As this is false he burdens me withal.

LUCIANA. Ne’er may I look on day nor sleep on night But she tells to your highness simple truth.

ANGELO. O perjur’d woman! They are both forsworn. In this the madman justly chargeth them.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. My liege, I am advised what I say, Neither disturb’d with the effect of wine, Nor heady-rash, provok’d with raging ire, Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad. This woman lock’d me out this day from dinner. That goldsmith there, were he not pack’d with her, Could witness it, for he was with me then, Who parted with me to go fetch a chain, Promising to bring it to the Porpentine, Where Balthasar and I did dine together. Our dinner done, and he not coming thither, I went to seek him. In the street I met him, And in his company that gentleman. There did this perjur’d goldsmith swear me down That I this day of him receiv’d the chain, Which, God he knows, I saw not. For the which He did arrest me with an officer. I did obey, and sent my peasant home For certain ducats. He with none return’d. Then fairly I bespoke the officer To go in person with me to my house. By th’ way we met My wife, her sister, and a rabble more Of vile confederates. Along with them They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-faced villain, A mere anatomy, a mountebank, A threadbare juggler, and a fortune-teller; A needy, hollow-ey’d, sharp-looking wretch; A living dead man. This pernicious slave, Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer, And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse, And with no face (as ’twere) outfacing me, Cries out, I was possess’d. Then altogether They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence, And in a dark and dankish vault at home There left me and my man, both bound together, Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder, I gain’d my freedom and immediately Ran hither to your Grace, whom I beseech To give me ample satisfaction For these deep shames and great indignities.

ANGELO. My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with him, That he din’d not at home, but was lock’d out.

DUKE. But had he such a chain of thee, or no?

ANGELO. He had, my lord, and when he ran in here These people saw the chain about his neck.

MERCHANT. Besides, I will be sworn these ears of mine Heard you confess you had the chain of him, After you first forswore it on the mart, And thereupon I drew my sword on you; And then you fled into this abbey here, From whence I think you are come by miracle.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. I never came within these abbey walls, Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me. I never saw the chain, so help me heaven; And this is false you burden me withal.

DUKE. Why, what an intricate impeach is this! I think you all have drunk of Circe’s cup. If here you hous’d him, here he would have been. If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly. You say he din’d at home, the goldsmith here Denies that saying. Sirrah, what say you?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Sir, he dined with her there, at the Porpentine.

COURTESAN. He did, and from my finger snatch’d that ring.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. ’Tis true, my liege, this ring I had of her.

DUKE. Saw’st thou him enter at the abbey here?

COURTESAN. As sure, my liege, as I do see your grace.

DUKE. Why, this is strange. Go call the abbess hither. I think you are all mated, or stark mad.

[Exit one to the Abbess.]

EGEON. Most mighty Duke, vouchsafe me speak a word; Haply I see a friend will save my life And pay the sum that may deliver me.

DUKE. Speak freely, Syracusian, what thou wilt.

EGEON. Is not your name, sir, call’d Antipholus? And is not that your bondman Dromio?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Within this hour I was his bondman, sir, But he, I thank him, gnaw’d in two my cords. Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound.

EGEON. I am sure you both of you remember me.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Ourselves we do remember, sir, by you. For lately we were bound as you are now. You are not Pinch’s patient, are you, sir?

EGEON. Why look you strange on me? you know me well.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. I never saw you in my life till now.

EGEON. O! grief hath chang’d me since you saw me last, And careful hours with time’s deformed hand, Have written strange defeatures in my face. But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Neither.

EGEON. Dromio, nor thou?

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. No, trust me, sir, nor I.

EGEON. I am sure thou dost.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Ay, sir, but I am sure I do not, and whatsoever a man denies, you are now bound to believe him.

EGEON. Not know my voice! O time’s extremity, Hast thou so crack’d and splitted my poor tongue In seven short years that here my only son Knows not my feeble key of untun’d cares? Though now this grained face of mine be hid In sap-consuming winter’s drizzled snow, And all the conduits of my blood froze up, Yet hath my night of life some memory, My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, My dull deaf ears a little use to hear. All these old witnesses, I cannot err, Tell me thou art my son Antipholus.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. I never saw my father in my life.

EGEON. But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy, Thou know’st we parted; but perhaps, my son, Thou sham’st to acknowledge me in misery.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. The duke and all that know me in the city, Can witness with me that it is not so. I ne’er saw Syracusa in my life.

DUKE. I tell thee, Syracusian, twenty years Have I been patron to Antipholus, During which time he ne’er saw Syracusa. I see thy age and dangers make thee dote.

Enter the Abbess with Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse.

ABBESS. Most mighty duke, behold a man much wrong’d.

[All gather to see them.]

ADRIANA. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me.

DUKE. One of these men is genius to the other; And so of these, which is the natural man, And which the spirit? Who deciphers them?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. I, sir, am Dromio, command him away.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. I, sir, am Dromio, pray let me stay.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Egeon, art thou not? or else his ghost?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. O, my old master, who hath bound him here?

ABBESS. Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds, And gain a husband by his liberty. Speak, old Egeon, if thou be’st the man That hadst a wife once called Emilia, That bore thee at a burden two fair sons. O, if thou be’st the same Egeon, speak, And speak unto the same Emilia!

DUKE. Why, here begins his morning story right: These two Antipholus’, these two so like, And these two Dromios, one in semblance, Besides her urging of her wreck at sea. These are the parents to these children, Which accidentally are met together.

EGEON. If I dream not, thou art Emilia. If thou art she, tell me where is that son That floated with thee on the fatal raft?

ABBESS. By men of Epidamnum, he and I And the twin Dromio, all were taken up; But, by and by, rude fishermen of Corinth By force took Dromio and my son from them, And me they left with those of Epidamnum. What then became of them I cannot tell; I to this fortune that you see me in.

DUKE. Antipholus, thou cam’st from Corinth first?

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. No, sir, not I, I came from Syracuse.

DUKE. Stay, stand apart, I know not which is which.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. And I with him.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Brought to this town by that most famous warrior, Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle.

ADRIANA. Which of you two did dine with me today?

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. I, gentle mistress.

ADRIANA. And are not you my husband?

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. No, I say nay to that.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. And so do I, yet did she call me so; And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here, Did call me brother. What I told you then, I hope I shall have leisure to make good, If this be not a dream I see and hear.

ANGELO. That is the chain, sir, which you had of me.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. I think it be, sir. I deny it not.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. And you, sir, for this chain arrested me.

ANGELO. I think I did, sir. I deny it not.

ADRIANA. I sent you money, sir, to be your bail By Dromio, but I think he brought it not.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. No, none by me.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. This purse of ducats I receiv’d from you, And Dromio my man did bring them me. I see we still did meet each other’s man, And I was ta’en for him, and he for me, And thereupon these errors are arose.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. These ducats pawn I for my father here.

DUKE. It shall not need, thy father hath his life.

COURTESAN. Sir, I must have that diamond from you.

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. There, take it, and much thanks for my good cheer.

ABBESS. Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the pains To go with us into the abbey here, And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes; And all that are assembled in this place, That by this sympathised one day’s error Have suffer’d wrong, go, keep us company, And we shall make full satisfaction. Thirty-three years have I but gone in travail Of you, my sons, and till this present hour My heavy burden ne’er delivered. The duke, my husband, and my children both, And you, the calendars of their nativity, Go to a gossips’ feast, and go with me. After so long grief, such nativity.

DUKE. With all my heart, I’ll gossip at this feast.

[Exeunt except the two Dromios and two Brothers.]

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Master, shall I fetch your stuff from shipboard?

ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou embark’d?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Your goods that lay at host, sir, in the Centaur.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. He speaks to me; I am your master, Dromio. Come, go with us. We’ll look to that anon. Embrace thy brother there, rejoice with him.

[Exeunt Antipholus of Syracuse and Antipholus of Ephesus.]

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. There is a fat friend at your master’s house, That kitchen’d me for you today at dinner. She now shall be my sister, not my wife.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother. I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth. Will you walk in to see their gossiping?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Not I, sir, you are my elder.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. That’s a question, how shall we try it?

DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. We’ll draw cuts for the senior. Till then, lead thou first.

DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Nay, then, thus: We came into the world like brother and brother, And now let’s go hand in hand, not one before another.

[Exeunt.]

THE TRAGEDY OF CORIOLANUS

Dramatis Personæ

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS, a noble Roman VOLUMNIA, his mother VIRGILIA, his wife YOUNG MARTIUS, their son VALERIA, friend to Volumnia and Virgilia A GENTLEWOMAN, Volumnia’s attendant

MENENIUS AGRIPPA, Friend to Coriolanus COMINIUS, General against the Volscians TITUS LARTIUS, General against the Volscians SICINIUS VELUTUS, Tribune of the People JUNIUS BRUTUS, Tribune of the People A ROMAN HERALD

TULLUS AUFIDIUS, General of the Volscians LIEUTENANT, to Aufidius Conspirators with Aufidius A CITIZEN of Antium TWO VOLSCIAN GUARDS

Roman and Volscian Senators, Patricians, Aediles, Lictors, Soldiers, Citizens, Messengers, Servants to Aufidius, and other Attendants

SCENE: Partly in Rome, and partly in the territories of the Volscians and Antiates.

Act I, Scene I — Rome. A street

Enter a company of mutinous Citizens, with staves, clubs, and other weapons.

FIRST CITIZEN. Before we proceed any further, hear me speak.

ALL. Speak, speak!

FIRST CITIZEN. You are all resolved rather to die than to famish?

ALL. Resolved, resolved!

FIRST CITIZEN. First, you know Caius Martius is chief enemy to the people.

ALL. We know’t, we know’t!

FIRST CITIZEN. Let us kill him, and we’ll have corn at our own price. Is’t a verdict?

ALL. No more talking on’t; let it be done. Away, away!

SECOND CITIZEN. One word, good citizens.

FIRST CITIZEN. We are accounted poor citizens, the patricians good. What authority surfeits on would relieve us. If they would yield us but the superfluity while it were wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely. But they think we are too dear. The leanness that afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an inventory to particularize their abundance; our sufferance is a gain to them. Let us revenge this with our pikes ere we become rakes; for the gods know I speak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge.

SECOND CITIZEN. Would you proceed especially against Caius Martius?

FIRST CITIZEN. Against him first. He’s a very dog to the commonalty.

SECOND CITIZEN. Consider you what services he has done for his country?

FIRST CITIZEN. Very well, and could be content to give him good report for’t, but that he pays himself with being proud.

SECOND CITIZEN. Nay, but speak not maliciously.

FIRST CITIZEN. I say unto you, what he hath done famously he did it to that end. Though soft-conscienced men can be content to say it was for his country, he did it to please his mother and to be partly proud, which he is, even to the altitude of his virtue.

SECOND CITIZEN. What he cannot help in his nature you account a vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous.

FIRST CITIZEN. If I must not, I need not be barren of accusations. He hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition. [Shouts within.] What shouts are these? The other side o’ th’ city is risen. Why stay we prating here? To th’ Capitol!

ALL. Come, come!

Enter Menenius Agrippa.

FIRST CITIZEN. Soft, who comes here?

SECOND CITIZEN. Worthy Menenius Agrippa, one that hath always loved the people.

FIRST CITIZEN. He’s one honest enough. Would all the rest were so!

MENENIUS. What work’s, my countrymen, in hand? Where go you With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray you.

FIRST CITIZEN. Our business is not unknown to th’ Senate. They have had inkling this fortnight what we intend to do, which now we’ll show ’em in deeds. They say poor suitors have strong breaths; they shall know we have strong arms too.

MENENIUS. Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbours, Will you undo yourselves?

FIRST CITIZEN. We cannot, sir; we are undone already.

MENENIUS. I tell you, friends, most charitable care Have the patricians of you. For your wants, Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them Against the Roman state, whose course will on The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs Of more strong link asunder than can ever Appear in your impediment. For the dearth, The gods, not the patricians, make it, and Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack, You are transported by calamity Thither where more attends you, and you slander The helms o’ th’ state, who care for you like fathers, When you curse them as enemies.

FIRST CITIZEN. Care for us? True, indeed! They ne’er cared for us yet. Suffer us to famish, and their storehouses crammed with grain; make edicts for usury to support usurers; repeal daily any wholesome act established against the rich, and provide more piercing statutes daily to chain up and restrain the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and there’s all the love they bear us.

MENENIUS. Either you must confess yourselves wondrous malicious Or be accused of folly. I shall tell you A pretty tale. It may be you have heard it, But since it serves my purpose, I will venture To stale’t a little more.

FIRST CITIZEN. Well, I’ll hear it, sir; yet you must not think to fob off our disgrace with a tale. But, an’t please you, deliver.

MENENIUS. There was a time when all the body’s members Rebelled against the belly, thus accused it: That only like a gulf it did remain I’ th’ midst o’ th’ body, idle and unactive, Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing Like labour with the rest, where th’ other instruments Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, And, mutually participate, did minister Unto the appetite and affection common Of the whole body. The belly answered—

FIRST CITIZEN. Well, sir, what answer made the belly?

MENENIUS. Sir, I shall tell you. With a kind of smile, Which ne’er came from the lungs, but even thus— For, look you, I may make the belly smile As well as speak—it tauntingly replied To th’ discontented members, the mutinous parts That envied his receipt; even so most fitly As you malign our senators for that They are not such as you.

FIRST CITIZEN. Your belly’s answer—what? The kingly crowned head, the vigilant eye, The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier, Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter, With other muniments and petty helps Is this our fabric, if that they—

MENENIUS. What then? ’Fore me, this fellow speaks. What then? What then?

FIRST CITIZEN. Should by the cormorant belly be restrained, Who is the sink o’ th’ body—

MENENIUS. Well, what then?

FIRST CITIZEN. The former agents, if they did complain, What could the belly answer?

MENENIUS. I will tell you, If you’ll bestow a small—of what you have little— Patience awhile, you’st hear the belly’s answer.

FIRST CITIZEN. You are long about it.

MENENIUS. Note me this, good friend; Your most grave belly was deliberate, Not rash like his accusers, and thus answered: “True is it, my incorporate friends,” quoth he, “That I receive the general food at first Which you do live upon; and fit it is, Because I am the storehouse and the shop Of the whole body. But, if you do remember, I send it through the rivers of your blood Even to the court, the heart, to th’ seat o’ th’ brain; And, through the cranks and offices of man, The strongest nerves and small inferior veins From me receive that natural competency Whereby they live. And though that all at once, You, my good friends”—this says the belly, mark me—

FIRST CITIZEN. Ay, sir, well, well.

MENENIUS. “Though all at once cannot See what I do deliver out to each, Yet I can make my audit up, that all From me do back receive the flour of all, And leave me but the bran.” What say you to’t?

FIRST CITIZEN. It was an answer. How apply you this?

MENENIUS. The senators of Rome are this good belly, And you the mutinous members. For examine Their counsels and their cares, digest things rightly Touching the weal o’ th’ common, you shall find No public benefit which you receive But it proceeds or comes from them to you And no way from yourselves. What do you think, You, the great toe of this assembly?

FIRST CITIZEN. I the great toe? Why the great toe?

MENENIUS. For that, being one o’ th’ lowest, basest, poorest, Of this most wise rebellion, thou goest foremost. Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run, Lead’st first to win some vantage. But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs. Rome and her rats are at the point of battle; The one side must have bale.

Enter Caius Martius.

Hail, noble Martius.

MARTIUS. Thanks.—What’s the matter, you dissentious rogues, That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion, Make yourselves scabs?

FIRST CITIZEN. We have ever your good word.

MARTIUS. He that will give good words to thee will flatter Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs, That like nor peace nor war? The one affrights you; The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you, Where he should find you lions, finds you hares; Where foxes, geese. You are no surer, no, Than is the coal of fire upon the ice Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is To make him worthy whose offence subdues him, And curse that justice did it. Who deserves greatness Deserves your hate; and your affections are A sick man’s appetite, who desires most that Which would increase his evil. He that depends Upon your favours swims with fins of lead, And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust ye? With every minute you do change a mind And call him noble that was now your hate, Him vile that was your garland. What’s the matter, That in these several places of the city You cry against the noble senate, who, Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else Would feed on one another?—What’s their seeking?

MENENIUS. For corn at their own rates, whereof they say The city is well stored.

MARTIUS. Hang ’em! They say? They’ll sit by th’ fire and presume to know What’s done i’ th’ Capitol, who’s like to rise, Who thrives and who declines; side factions and give out Conjectural marriages, making parties strong And feebling such as stand not in their liking Below their cobbled shoes. They say there’s grain enough? Would the nobility lay aside their ruth And let me use my sword, I’d make a quarry With thousands of these quartered slaves as high As I could pick my lance.

MENENIUS. Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded; For though abundantly they lack discretion, Yet are they passing cowardly. But I beseech you, What says the other troop?

MARTIUS. They are dissolved. Hang ’em! They said they were an-hungry, sighed forth proverbs That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat, That meat was made for mouths, that the gods sent not Corn for the rich men only. With these shreds They vented their complainings, which being answered And a petition granted them—a strange one, To break the heart of generosity And make bold power look pale—they threw their caps As they would hang them on the horns o’ th’ moon, Shouting their emulation.

MENENIUS. What is granted them?

MARTIUS. Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms, Of their own choice. One’s Junius Brutus, Sicinius Velutus, and I know not. ’Sdeath! The rabble should have first unroofed the city Ere so prevailed with me. It will in time Win upon power and throw forth greater themes For insurrection’s arguing.

MENENIUS. This is strange.

MARTIUS. Go get you home, you fragments.

Enter a Messenger hastily.

MESSENGER. Where’s Caius Martius?

MARTIUS. Here. What’s the matter?

MESSENGER. The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms.

MARTIUS. I am glad on’t. Then we shall ha’ means to vent Our musty superfluity.

Enter Sicinius Velutus, Junius Brutus, two Tribunes; Cominius, Titus Lartius with other Senators.

See, our best elders.

FIRST SENATOR. Martius, ’tis true that you have lately told us: The Volsces are in arms.

MARTIUS. They have a leader, Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to’t. I sin in envying his nobility, And, were I anything but what I am, I would wish me only he.

COMINIUS. You have fought together.

MARTIUS. Were half to half the world by th’ ears and he Upon my party, I’d revolt, to make Only my wars with him. He is a lion That I am proud to hunt.

FIRST SENATOR. Then, worthy Martius, Attend upon Cominius to these wars.

COMINIUS. It is your former promise.

MARTIUS. Sir, it is, And I am constant.—Titus Lartius, thou Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus’ face. What, art thou stiff? Stand’st out?

TITUS LARTIUS. No, Caius Martius, I’ll lean upon one crutch and fight with th’ other Ere stay behind this business.

MENENIUS. O, true bred!

FIRST SENATOR. Your company to th’ Capitol, where I know Our greatest friends attend us.

TITUS LARTIUS. Lead you on. Follow Cominius. We must follow you; Right worthy your priority.

COMINIUS. Noble Martius.

FIRST SENATOR. [To the Citizens.] Hence to your homes, begone.

MARTIUS. Nay, let them follow. The Volsces have much corn; take these rats thither To gnaw their garners. Worshipful mutineers, Your valour puts well forth. Pray follow.

[Exeunt. Sicinius and Brutus remain.]

SICINIUS. Was ever man so proud as is this Martius?

BRUTUS. He has no equal.

SICINIUS. When we were chosen tribunes for the people—

BRUTUS. Marked you his lip and eyes?

SICINIUS. Nay, but his taunts.

BRUTUS. Being moved, he will not spare to gird the gods.

SICINIUS. Bemock the modest moon.

BRUTUS. The present wars devour him! He is grown Too proud to be so valiant.

SICINIUS. Such a nature, Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow Which he treads on at noon. But I do wonder His insolence can brook to be commanded Under Cominius.

BRUTUS. Fame, at the which he aims, In whom already he’s well graced, cannot Better be held nor more attained than by A place below the first; for what miscarries Shall be the General’s fault, though he perform To th’ utmost of a man, and giddy censure Will then cry out of Martius “O, if he Had borne the business!”

SICINIUS. Besides, if things go well, Opinion that so sticks on Martius shall Of his demerits rob Cominius.

BRUTUS. Come. Half all Cominius’ honours are to Martius, Though Martius earned them not, and all his faults To Martius shall be honours, though indeed In aught he merit not.

SICINIUS. Let’s hence and hear How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion, More than in singularity, he goes Upon this present action.

BRUTUS. Let’s along.

[Exeunt.]

Act I, Scene II — Corioles. The Senate House

Enter Tullus Aufidius with Senators of Corioles.

FIRST SENATOR. So, your opinion is, Aufidius, That they of Rome are entered in our counsels And know how we proceed.

AUFIDIUS. Is it not yours? What ever have been thought on in this state That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome Had circumvention? ’Tis not four days gone Since I heard thence. These are the words—I think I have the letter here. Yes, here it is. [Reads.] _They have pressed a power, but it is not known Whether for east or west. The dearth is great. The people mutinous; and, it is rumoured, Cominius, Martius your old enemy, Who is of Rome worse hated than of you,— And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman, These three lead on this preparation Whither ’tis bent. Most likely ’tis for you. Consider of it._

FIRST SENATOR. Our army’s in the field. We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready To answer us.

AUFIDIUS. Nor did you think it folly To keep your great pretences veiled till when They needs must show themselves, which, in the hatching, It seemed, appeared to Rome. By the discovery We shall be shortened in our aim, which was To take in many towns ere almost Rome Should know we were afoot.

SECOND SENATOR. Noble Aufidius, Take your commission; hie you to your bands. Let us alone to guard Corioles. If they set down before’s, for the remove Bring up your army. But I think you’ll find They’ve not prepared for us.

AUFIDIUS. O, doubt not that; I speak from certainties. Nay, more, Some parcels of their power are forth already, And only hitherward. I leave your Honours. If we and Caius Martius chance to meet, ’Tis sworn between us we shall ever strike Till one can do no more.

ALL. The gods assist you!

AUFIDIUS. And keep your Honours safe!

FIRST SENATOR. Farewell.

SECOND SENATOR. Farewell.

ALL. Farewell.

[Exeunt.]

Act I, Scene III — Rome. An apartment in Martius’ house

Enter Volumnia and Virgilia, mother and wife to Martius. They set them down on two low stools and sew.

VOLUMNIA. I pray you, daughter, sing, or express yourself in a more comfortable sort. If my son were my husband, I should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won honour than in the embracements of his bed where he would show most love. When yet he was but tender-bodied and the only son of my womb, when youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way, when for a day of kings’ entreaties a mother should not sell him an hour from her beholding, I, considering how honour would become such a person—that it was no better than picture-like to hang by th’ wall, if renown made it not stir—was pleased to let him seek danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel war I sent him, from whence he returned, his brows bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child than now in first seeing he had proved himself a man.

VIRGILIA. But had he died in the business, madam, how then?

VOLUMNIA. Then his good report should have been my son; I therein would have found issue. Hear me profess sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love alike and none less dear than thine and my good Martius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.

Enter a Gentlewoman.

GENTLEWOMAN. Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you.

VIRGILIA. Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.

VOLUMNIA. Indeed you shall not. Methinks I hear hither your husband’s drum, See him pluck Aufidius down by th’ hair; As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning him. Methinks I see him stamp thus and call thus: “Come on, you cowards! You were got in fear, Though you were born in Rome.” His bloody brow With his mailed hand then wiping, forth he goes Like to a harvestman that’s tasked to mow Or all or lose his hire.

VIRGILIA. His bloody brow? O Jupiter, no blood!

VOLUMNIA. Away, you fool! It more becomes a man Than gilt his trophy. The breasts of Hecuba, When she did suckle Hector, looked not lovelier Than Hector’s forehead when it spit forth blood At Grecian sword, contemning.—Tell Valeria We are fit to bid her welcome.

[Exit Gentlewoman.]

VIRGILIA. Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!

VOLUMNIA. He’ll beat Aufidius’ head below his knee And tread upon his neck.

Enter Valeria with an Usher and a Gentlewoman.

VALERIA. My ladies both, good day to you.

VOLUMNIA. Sweet madam.

VIRGILIA. I am glad to see your Ladyship.

VALERIA. How do you both? You are manifest housekeepers. What are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good faith. How does your little son?

VIRGILIA. I thank your Ladyship; well, good madam.

VOLUMNIA. He had rather see the swords and hear a drum than look upon his schoolmaster.

VALERIA. O’ my word, the father’s son! I’ll swear ’tis a very pretty boy. O’ my troth, I looked upon him o’ Wednesday half an hour together. H’as such a confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded butterfly, and when he caught it, he let it go again, and after it again, and over and over he comes, and up again, catched it again. Or whether his fall enraged him or how ’twas, he did so set his teeth and tear it. O, I warrant how he mammocked it!

VOLUMNIA. One on’s father’s moods.

VALERIA. Indeed, la, ’tis a noble child.

VIRGILIA. A crack, madam.

VALERIA. Come, lay aside your stitchery. I must have you play the idle huswife with me this afternoon.

VIRGILIA. No, good madam, I will not out of doors.

VALERIA. Not out of doors?

VOLUMNIA. She shall, she shall.

VIRGILIA. Indeed, no, by your patience. I’ll not over the threshold till my lord return from the wars.

VALERIA. Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably. Come, you must go visit the good lady that lies in.

VIRGILIA. I will wish her speedy strength and visit her with my prayers, but I cannot go thither.

VOLUMNIA. Why, I pray you?

VIRGILIA. ’Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love.

VALERIA. You would be another Penelope. Yet they say all the yarn she spun in Ulysses’ absence did but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come, I would your cambric were sensible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us.

VIRGILIA. No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth.

VALERIA. In truth, la, go with me, and I’ll tell you excellent news of your husband.

VIRGILIA. O, good madam, there can be none yet.

VALERIA. Verily, I do not jest with you. There came news from him last night.

VIRGILIA. Indeed, madam!

VALERIA. In earnest, it’s true. I heard a senator speak it. Thus it is: the Volsces have an army forth, against whom Cominius the General is gone with one part of our Roman power. Your lord and Titus Lartius are set down before their city Corioles. They nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief wars. This is true, on mine honour, and so, I pray, go with us.

VIRGILIA. Give me excuse, good madam. I will obey you in everything hereafter.

VOLUMNIA. Let her alone, lady. As she is now, she will but disease our better mirth.

VALERIA. In troth, I think she would.—Fare you well, then.—Come, good sweet lady.—Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o’ door, and go along with us.

VIRGILIA. No, at a word, madam. Indeed I must not. I wish you much mirth.

VALERIA. Well then, farewell.

[Exeunt.]

Act I, Scene IV — Before Corioles

Enter Martius, Titus Lartius, with drum and colours, with Captains and Soldiers, as before the city of Corioles. To them a Messenger.

MARTIUS. Yonder comes news. A wager they have met.

LARTIUS. My horse to yours, no.

MARTIUS. ’Tis done.

LARTIUS. Agreed.

MARTIUS. [To Messenger.] Say, has our general met the enemy?

MESSENGER. They lie in view but have not spoke as yet.

LARTIUS. So the good horse is mine.

MARTIUS. I’ll buy him of you.

LARTIUS. No, I’ll nor sell nor give him. Lend you him I will For half a hundred years.—Summon the town.

MARTIUS. How far off lie these armies?

MESSENGER. Within this mile and half.

MARTIUS. Then shall we hear their ’larum, and they ours. Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work, That we with smoking swords may march from hence To help our fielded friends!—Come, blow thy blast.

[They sound a parley.]

Enter two Senators with others on the walls of Corioles.

Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls?

FIRST SENATOR. No, nor a man that fears you less than he: That’s lesser than a little. [Drum afar off.] Hark, our drums Are bringing forth our youth. We’ll break our walls Rather than they shall pound us up. Our gates, Which yet seem shut, we have but pinned with rushes. They’ll open of themselves. [Alarum far off.] Hark you, far off! There is Aufidius. List what work he makes Amongst your cloven army.

MARTIUS. O, they are at it!

LARTIUS. Their noise be our instruction.—Ladders, ho!

Enter the Army of the Volsces as through the city gates.

MARTIUS. They fear us not but issue forth their city.— Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proof than shields.—Advance, brave Titus. They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, Which makes me sweat with wrath.—Come on, my fellows! He that retires, I’ll take him for a Volsce, And he shall feel mine edge.

[Alarums. The Romans are beat back to their trenches. They exit, with the Volsces following.]

Enter Martius cursing, with Roman soldiers.

MARTIUS. All the contagion of the south light on you, You shames of Rome! You herd of—Boils and plagues Plaster you o’er, that you may be abhorred Farther than seen, and one infect another Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese, That bear the shapes of men, how have you run From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell! All hurt behind. Backs red, and faces pale With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge home, Or, by the fires of heaven, I’ll leave the foe And make my wars on you. Look to’t. Come on! If you’ll stand fast we’ll beat them to their wives, As they us to our trenches. Follow’s!

[Another alarum. The Volsces re-enter and are driven back to the gates of Corioles, which open to admit them.]

So, now the gates are ope. Now prove good seconds! ’Tis for the followers fortune widens them, Not for the fliers. Mark me, and do the like.

[Martius follows the fleeing Volsces through the gates, and is shut in.]

FIRST SOLDIER. Foolhardiness, not I.

SECOND SOLDIER. Nor I.

FIRST SOLDIER. See, they have shut him in.

[Alarum continues.]

ALL. To th’ pot, I warrant him.

Enter Titus Lartius.

LARTIUS. What is become of Martius?

ALL. Slain, sir, doubtless.

FIRST SOLDIER. Following the fliers at the very heels, With them he enters, who upon the sudden Clapped to their gates. He is himself alone, To answer all the city.

LARTIUS. O noble fellow, Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword, And when it bows, stand’st up! Thou art left, Martius. A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art, Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier Even to Cato’s wish, not fierce and terrible Only in strokes, but with thy grim looks and The thunderlike percussion of thy sounds Thou mad’st thine enemies shake, as if the world Were feverous and did tremble.

Enter Martius, bleeding, assaulted by the enemy.

FIRST SOLDIER. Look, sir.

LARTIUS. O, ’tis Martius! Let’s fetch him off or make remain alike.

[They fight, and all enter the city.]

Act I, Scene V — Within Corioles. A street

Enter certain Romans, with spoils.

FIRST ROMAN. This will I carry to Rome.

SECOND ROMAN. And I this.

THIRD ROMAN. A murrain on’t! I took this for silver.

Enter Martius and Titus Lartius with a Trumpet.

MARTIUS. See here these movers that do prize their hours At a cracked drachma. Cushions, leaden spoons, Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves, Ere yet the fight be done, pack up. Down with them!

[Exit the Romans with spoils.]

[Alarum continues still afar off.]

And hark, what noise the General makes! To him! There is the man of my soul’s hate, Aufidius, Piercing our Romans. Then, valiant Titus, take Convenient numbers to make good the city, Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste To help Cominius.

LARTIUS. Worthy sir, thou bleed’st. Thy exercise hath been too violent For a second course of fight.

MARTIUS. Sir, praise me not. My work hath yet not warmed me. Fare you well. The blood I drop is rather physical Than dangerous to me. To Aufidius thus I will appear and fight.

LARTIUS. Now the fair goddess Fortune Fall deep in love with thee, and her great charms Misguide thy opposers’ swords! Bold gentleman, Prosperity be thy page!

MARTIUS. Thy friend no less Than those she placeth highest! So farewell.

LARTIUS. Thou worthiest Martius!

[Exit Martius.]

Go sound thy trumpet in the marketplace. Call thither all the officers o’ th’ town, Where they shall know our mind. Away!

[Exeunt.]

Act I, Scene VI — Near the camp of Cominius

Enter Cominius as it were in retire, with Soldiers.

COMINIUS. Breathe you, my friends. Well fought! We are come off Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands Nor cowardly in retire. Believe me, sirs, We shall be charged again. Whiles we have struck, By interims and conveying gusts we have heard The charges of our friends. The Roman gods Lead their successes as we wish our own, That both our powers, with smiling fronts encount’ring, May give you thankful sacrifice!

Enter a Messenger.

Thy news?

MESSENGER. The citizens of Corioles have issued, And given to Lartius and to Martius battle. I saw our party to their trenches driven, And then I came away.

COMINIUS. Though thou speakest truth, Methinks thou speak’st not well. How long is’t since?

MESSENGER. Above an hour, my lord.

COMINIUS. ’Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums. How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour And bring thy news so late?

MESSENGER. Spies of the Volsces Held me in chase, that I was forced to wheel Three or four miles about; else had I, sir, Half an hour since brought my report.

[Exit Messenger.]

Enter Martius, bloody.

COMINIUS. Who’s yonder, That does appear as he were flayed? O gods, He has the stamp of Martius, and I have Before-time seen him thus.

MARTIUS. Come I too late?

COMINIUS. The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor More than I know the sound of Martius’ tongue From every meaner man.

MARTIUS. Come I too late?

COMINIUS. Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, But mantled in your own.

MARTIUS. O, let me clip you In arms as sound as when I wooed, in heart As merry as when our nuptial day was done And tapers burned to bedward!

COMINIUS. Flower of warriors, how is’t with Titus Lartius?

MARTIUS. As with a man busied about decrees, Condemning some to death and some to exile; Ransoming him or pitying, threat’ning the other; Holding Corioles in the name of Rome Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, To let him slip at will.

COMINIUS. Where is that slave Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? Where’s he? Call him hither.

MARTIUS. Let him alone. He did inform the truth. But for our gentlemen, The common file—a plague! Tribunes for them!— The mouse ne’er shunned the cat as they did budge From rascals worse than they.

COMINIUS. But how prevailed you?

MARTIUS. Will the time serve to tell? I do not think. Where is the enemy? Are you lords o’ th’ field? If not, why cease you till you are so?

COMINIUS. Martius, we have at disadvantage fought, And did retire to win our purpose.

MARTIUS. How lies their battle? Know you on which side They have placed their men of trust?

COMINIUS. As I guess, Martius, Their bands i’ th’ vaward are the Antiates, Of their best trust; o’er them Aufidius, Their very heart of hope.

MARTIUS. I do beseech you, By all the battles wherein we have fought, By th’ blood we have shed together, by th’ vows we have made To endure friends, that you directly set me Against Aufidius and his Antiates, And that you not delay the present, but, Filling the air with swords advanced and darts, We prove this very hour.

COMINIUS. Though I could wish You were conducted to a gentle bath And balms applied to you, yet dare I never Deny your asking. Take your choice of those That best can aid your action.

MARTIUS. Those are they That most are willing. If any such be here— As it were sin to doubt—that love this painting Wherein you see me smeared; if any fear Lesser his person than an ill report; If any think brave death outweighs bad life, And that his country’s dearer than himself; Let him alone, or so many so minded, Wave thus to express his disposition And follow Martius.

[He waves his sword.]

[They all shout and wave their swords, take him up in their arms, and cast up their caps.]

O, me alone! Make you a sword of me? If these shows be not outward, which of you But is four Volsces? None of you but is Able to bear against the great Aufidius A shield as hard as his. A certain number, Though thanks to all, must I select from all. The rest shall bear the business in some other fight, As cause will be obeyed. Please you to march, And I shall quickly draw out my command, Which men are best inclined.

COMINIUS. March on, my fellows. Make good this ostentation, and you shall Divide in all with us.

[Exeunt.]

Act I, Scene VII — The gates of Corioles

Titus Lartius, having set a guard upon Corioles, going with drum and trumpet toward Cominius and Caius Martius, enters with a Lieutenant, other Soldiers, and a Scout.

LARTIUS. So, let the ports be guarded. Keep your duties As I have set them down. If I do send, dispatch Those centuries to our aid; the rest will serve For a short holding. If we lose the field, We cannot keep the town.

LIEUTENANT. Fear not our care, sir.

LARTIUS. Hence, and shut your gates upon’s. Our guider, come. To th’ Roman camp conduct us.

[Exeunt.]

Act I, Scene VIII — A field of battle between the Roman and the Volscian camps

Alarum, as in battle. Enter Martius and Aufidius at several doors.

MARTIUS. I’ll fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee Worse than a promise-breaker.

AUFIDIUS. We hate alike. Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot.

MARTIUS. Let the first budger die the other’s slave, And the gods doom him after!

AUFIDIUS. If I fly, Martius, Hollo me like a hare.

MARTIUS. Within these three hours, Tullus, Alone I fought in your Corioles’ walls, And made what work I pleased. ’Tis not my blood Wherein thou seest me masked. For thy revenge Wrench up thy power to th’ highest.

AUFIDIUS. Wert thou the Hector That was the whip of your bragged progeny, Thou shouldst not scape me here.

[Here they fight, and certain Volsces come to the aid of Aufidius.]

Officious and not valiant, you have shamed me In your condemned seconds.

[Martius fights till they be driven in breathless. Aufidius and Martius exit, separately.]

Act I, Scene IX — The Roman camp

Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter, at one door, Cominius with the Romans; at another door, Martius, with his arm in a scarf.

COMINIUS. If I should tell thee o’er this thy day’s work, Thou’t not believe thy deeds. But I’ll report it Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles; Where great patricians shall attend and shrug, I’ th’ end admire; where ladies shall be frighted And, gladly quaked, hear more; where the dull tribunes, That with the fusty plebeians hate thine honours, Shall say against their hearts “We thank the gods Our Rome hath such a soldier.” Yet cam’st thou to a morsel of this feast, Having fully dined before.

Enter Titus Lartius with his power, from the pursuit.

LARTIUS. O general, Here is the steed, we the caparison. Hadst thou beheld—

MARTIUS. Pray now, no more. My mother, Who has a charter to extol her blood, When she does praise me grieves me. I have done As you have done—that’s what I can; Induced as you have been—that’s for my country. He that has but effected his good will Hath overta’en mine act.

COMINIUS. You shall not be The grave of your deserving. Rome must know The value of her own. ’Twere a concealment Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement, To hide your doings and to silence that Which, to the spire and top of praises vouched, Would seem but modest. Therefore, I beseech you— In sign of what you are, not to reward What you have done—before our army hear me.

MARTIUS. I have some wounds upon me, and they smart To hear themselves remembered.

COMINIUS. Should they not, Well might they fester ’gainst ingratitude And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses— Whereof we have ta’en good and good store—of all The treasure in this field achieved and city, We render you the tenth, to be ta’en forth Before the common distribution At your only choice.

MARTIUS. I thank you, general, But cannot make my heart consent to take A bribe to pay my sword. I do refuse it; And stand upon my common part with those That have beheld the doing.

[A long flourish. They all cry “Martius, Martius!” and cast up their caps and lances. Cominius and Lartius stand bare.]

May these same instruments which, you profane, Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall I’ th’ field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be Made all of false-faced soothing! When steel grows soft Soft as the parasite’s silk, let him be made An ovator for the wars! No more, I say. For that I have not washed my nose that bled, Or foiled some debile wretch—which, without note, Here’s many else have done—you shout me forth In acclamations hyperbolical, As if I loved my little should be dieted In praises sauced with lies.

COMINIUS. Too modest are you, More cruel to your good report than grateful To us that give you truly. By your patience, If ’gainst yourself you be incensed, we’ll put you, Like one that means his proper harm, in manacles, Then reason safely with you. Therefore be it known, As to us to all the world, that Caius Martius Wears this war’s garland, in token of the which My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him, With all his trim belonging. And from this time, For what he did before Corioles, call him, With all th’ applause and clamour of the host, Caius Martius Coriolanus! Bear Th’ addition nobly ever!

[Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums.]

ALL. Caius Martius Coriolanus!

CORIOLANUS. I will go wash; And when my face is fair, you shall perceive Whether I blush or no. Howbeit, I thank you. I mean to stride your steed and at all times To undercrest your good addition To th’ fairness of my power.

COMINIUS. So, to our tent, Where, ere we do repose us, we will write To Rome of our success.—You, Titus Lartius, Must to Corioles back. Send us to Rome The best, with whom we may articulate For their own good and ours.

LARTIUS. I shall, my lord.

CORIOLANUS. The gods begin to mock me. I, that now Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg Of my lord general.

COMINIUS. Take’t, ’tis yours. What is’t?

CORIOLANUS. I sometime lay here in Corioles At a poor man’s house; he used me kindly. He cried to me; I saw him prisoner; But then Aufidius was within my view, And wrath o’erwhelmed my pity. I request you To give my poor host freedom.

COMINIUS. O, well begged! Were he the butcher of my son, he should Be free as is the wind.—Deliver him, Titus.

LARTIUS. Martius, his name?

CORIOLANUS. By Jupiter, forgot! I am weary; yea, my memory is tired. Have we no wine here?

COMINIUS. Go we to our tent. The blood upon your visage dries; ’tis time It should be looked to. Come.

[A flourish of cornets. Exeunt.]

Act I, Scene X — The camp of the Volsces

A flourish. Cornets. Enter Tullus Aufidius, bloody, with two or three soldiers.

AUFIDIUS. The town is ta’en.

SOLDIER. ’Twill be delivered back on good condition.

AUFIDIUS. Condition? I would I were a Roman, for I cannot, Being a Volsce, be that I am. Condition? What good condition can a treaty find I’ th’ part that is at mercy? Five times, Martius, I have fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter As often as we eat. By th’ elements, If e’er again I meet him beard to beard, He’s mine or I am his. Mine emulation Hath not that honour in’t it had; for where I thought to crush him in an equal force, True sword to sword, I’ll potch at him some way, Or wrath or craft may get him.

SOLDIER. He’s the devil.

AUFIDIUS. Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour’s poisoned With only suff’ring stain by him; for him Shall fly out of itself. Nor sleep nor sanctuary, Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol, The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice, Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up Their rotten privilege and custom ’gainst My hate to Martius. Where I find him, were it At home, upon my brother’s guard, even there, Against the hospitable canon, would I Wash my fierce hand in’s heart. Go you to th’ city; Learn how ’tis held and what they are that must Be hostages for Rome.

SOLDIER. Will not you go?

AUFIDIUS. I am attended at the cypress grove. I pray you— ’Tis south the city mills,—bring me word thither How the world goes, that to the pace of it I may spur on my journey.

SOLDIER. I shall, sir.

[Exeunt.]