Coriolanus Page #6

and I have nightly since dreamt

of encounters 'twixt thyself and me.

Worthy Martius,

had we no quarrel else to Rome,

but that thou art thence banished,

we would muster all from 12 to 70,

and, pouring war into

the bowels of ungrateful Rome,

like a bold flood, overbear it.

Come, go in, and take our

friendly senators by the hands.

You bless me, gods.

Therefore, most absolute sir...

...if thou wilt have the leading

of thine own revenges,

take the one half of my commission.

And set down

as best thou art experienced,

since thou knows thy country's

strength and weakness,

thine own ways, whether to knock

against the gates of Rome,

or rudely visit them in parts

remote to fright them, ere destroy.

- Is this Menenius?

- O, 'tis he, 'tis he.

O, he's grown most kind of late.

- Hail, sir.

- Hail to you both.

Your Coriolanus is not much missed,

but with his friends.

All's well, and might

have been much better

- if he could have temporized.

- Where is he, hear you?

I hear nothing.

His mother and his wife

hear nothing from him.

Caius Martius was

a worthy officer in the war,

but insolent, overcome with pride,

ambitious past all thinking,

self-loving...

I think not so.

And Rome sits safe

and still without him.

- Shh!

- Shh!

There are reports the Volsces,

with two several powers,

are entered in the Roman territories,

and with the deepest malice of the war,

destroy what lies before them.

- Shh!

- 'Tis Aufidius,

who, hearing of our Martius' banishment,

thrusts forth his horns

into the world again.

Come, what talk you of Martius?

It cannot be the Volsces

dare break with us.

Cannot be? We have record that it can.

The nobles in great earnestness

are going all to the Senate House.

Some news is coming

that turns their countenances.

Yes, the first report

is seconded, and more...

...more fearful is delivered.

Martius has joined with Aufidius.

He leads a power against Rome,

and vows revenge

as spacious as between

the youngest and oldest thing.

A fearful army, led by Caius Martius,

associated with Aufidius,

rages upon our territories,

and have already overborne their way,

consumed with fire,

and took what lay before them.

Martius has joined with the Volscians.

He is their god.

He leads them like boys

pursuing summer butterflies

or butchers killing flies.

Do they still fly to the Roman?

I do not know

what witchcraft's in him,

but your soldiers use him

as the grace before meat,

their talk at table,

and their thanks at end.

And you are darkened

in this action, sir.

He bears himself more proud,

even to my person,

than I thought he would

when first I did embrace him.

Sir, I beseech you,

think you he'll carry Rome?

I think he'll be to Rome

as is the osprey to the fish,

who takes it by sovereignty of nature.

Whether it was pride,

whether defect of judgment...

...or whether nature,

not to be other than one thing,

made him feared,

so hated, and so banished...

...so our virtues lie

in the interpretation of the time.

One fire drives out one fire...

...one nail, one nail.

Rights by rights falter,

strengths by strengths do fail.

When, Caius,

Rome is thine,

thou art poorest of all...

...then shortly art thou mine.

No, I'll not go.

- Good Menenius...

- Go, you that banished him.

A mile before his tent, fall down,

and kneel the way into his mercy.

He would not seem to know me.

I urged our old acquaintance,

and the drops

that we have bled together.

"Coriolanus" he would not answer to,

forbad all names.

He was...

...a kind of nothing.

Titleless.

Till he had forged himself a name

in the fire of burning Rome.

If you refuse your aid in this...

If you would be your country's pleader,

your good tongue,

more than the instant army we can make,

might stop our countryman.

- No, I'll not meddle.

- Pray you, go to him.

- What should I do?

- Only make trial what your love can do

for Rome towards Martius.

Well, and say "Martius return me,

as Titus is returned, unhurt."

What then?

Yet your good will must have

that thanks from Rome.

You know the very road into his

kindness, and cannot lose your way.

I'll undertake it.

I think he'll hear me.

- He'll never hear him.

- No?

I tell you, he does sit in gold...

...his eye, red, as it would burn Rome.

The glorious gods sit in hourly synod

about thy particular prosperity...

...and love thee no worse

than thy old friend Menenius does.

O Martius, Martius.

Thou art preparing fire for us.

Look thee...

...there's water to quench it.

I was hardly moved to come to thee,

but being assured none

but myself could move thee,

I have been blown out

of your gates with sighs...

...and conjure thee to pardon Rome.

Away.

How? Away?

Wife... mother... child... I know not.

My affairs are servanted to others.

- Sir...

- Therefore be gone.

Another word, Menenius,

I will not hear thee speak.

This Martius is grown

from man to dragon.

He has wings.

He's more than a creeping thing.

There is no more mercy in him

than there is milk in a male tiger.

My lord and husband.

These eyes are not the same

I wore in Rome.

The sorrow that delivers us

thus changed makes you think so.

Best of my flesh, forgive my tyranny,

but do not say for that

"Forgive our Romans."

O, a kiss...

...long as my exile...

...sweet as my revenge.

Ye gods, I prate,

and the most noble mother

of the world leave unsaluted.

Sink, my knee, in the earth.

Stand up, blest.

Whilst with no softer

cushion than the flint

- I kneel before thee.

- What's this?

Your knees to me?

To your corrected son?

Thou art my warrior.

I helped to frame thee.

This is a poor epitome of yours,

which by the interpretation of full time

may show like all yourself.

The god of soldiers,

inform thy thoughts with nobleness,

that thou may'st prove

to shame, invulnerable.

Your knee, sir.

Even he, your wife,

this lady and myself,

- are suitors to you.

- I beseech you, peace.

Or, if you'd ask, remember this:

Do not bid me dismiss my soldiers,

or capitulate again

with Rome's mechanics.

Tell me not wherein I seem unnatural.

Desire not to allay my rages

and revenges with your colder reasons.

No more, no more.

You have said you

will not grant us anything,

for we have nothing else to ask

but that which you deny already.

Yet we will ask,

that if you fail in our request,

the blame may hang upon

your hardness. Therefore hear us.

Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark.

For we'll hear naught

from Rome in private.

Your request?

Should we be silent

and not speak, our raiment

and state of bodies would betray

what life we have led since thy exile.

Think with thyself.

How more unfortunate than all

living women are we come hither,

since that thy sight, which should

make our eyes flow with joy,

hearts dance with comforts...

...constrains them weep

and shake with fear and sorrow...

...making the mother, wife, and child

to see the son,

the husband and the father

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