Coriolanus Page #7

tearing his country's bowels out.

And we must find an evident calamity,

though we had our wish,

which side should win.

For either thou must,

as a foreign recreant,

be led with manacles

through our streets,

or else, triumphantly,

tread on thy country's ruin,

and bear the palm

for having bravely shed

thy wife and children's blood.

For myself... son...

...I purpose not to wait on fortune

till these wars determine.

If I cannot persuade thee

rather to show a noble grace

to both parts than seek the end to one,

thou shalt no sooner march

to assault thy country

than to tread on thy mother's womb...

...that brought thee to this world.

Aye, and mine,

that brought you forth this boy

to keep your name living to time.

You shall not tread on me.

I'll run away till I'm bigger...

...but then I'll fight!

- I have sat too long.

- Nay, go not from us thus.

If it were so that our request

did tend to save the Romans,

thereby to destroy

the Volsces whom you serve,

thou might'st condemn us

as poisonous of your honor.

No. Our suit is that

you reconcile them.

So that the Voices may say

"This mercy we have showed,"

the Romans, "This we've received,"

and each on either side

give the all-hail to thee and cry,

"Be blest for making up this peace!"

Speak to me, son.

Why dost not speak?

Speak you, daughter.

He cares not for your weeping.

Speak thou, boy.

Perhaps thy childishness will

move him more than can our reasons.

There's no man in the world

more bound to his mother,

yet here he lets me prate

like one in the stocks!

Thou hast never, in thy life,

shown thy dear mother any courtesy,

when she, poor hen,

has clucked thee to the wars

and safely home loaded with honor.

Say my request's unjust and

spurn me back, but if it be not so...

...thou art not honest

and the gods will plague thee,

that thou restrains from me the duty

which to a mother's part belongs.

Down, ladies.

Let us shame him with our knees!

Down!

This is the last.

An end.

So we will home to Rome,

and die among our neighbors.

Nay.

Behold'st, this boy, that cannot

tell what he would have...

...yet kneels and holds

up hands for fellowship.

Does reason our petition with more

strength than thou hast to deny it.

Come, let us go.

This fellow had

a Volscian to his mother!

His wife is in Corioles and

his child like him by chance.

Yet give us our dispatch I am

hushed until our city be afire,

and then I'll speak a little.

O Mother...

Mother...

What have you done?

Behold...

...the heavens do ope...

...the gods look down...

...and this unnatural scene

they laugh at.

O my mother!

Mother!

O!

You have won...

...a happy victory to Rome.

But for your son, believe it.

O believe it.

Most... dangerously

you have prevailed with him.

If not most mortal to him.

But let it come.

Aufidius...

...though I cannot make true wars,

I'll frame convenient peace.

Now, good Aufidius,

were you in my stead,

would you have heard a mother less?

Or granted less? Aufidius?

I was moved withal.

I dare be sworn you were.

And, sir, it is no little thing

to make mine eyes to sweat compassion.

But, good sir, what peace

you'll make, advise me.

A merrier day did never yet greet Rome.

No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins.

We have all great cause

to give great thanks.

Behold our patroness, the life of Rome.

How is it with our general?

As with a man by his own charity slain.

Our soldiers will remain uncertain

whilst 'twixt you there's difference,

but the fall of either

makes the survivor heir of all.

I know it.

And my pretext to strike

at him admits a good construction.

I raised him, and I pawned

mine honor for his truth,

who, being so heightened,

he watered his new plants

with dews of flattery,

seducing so my friends.

At the last, I seemed his follower,

not partner,

and he waged me with his countenance

as if I had been mercenary.

So he did, my lord.

The army marveled at it.

And, in the last,

when he had carried Rome

and that we looked

for no less spoil than glory...

There was it!

For which my sinews shall be

stretched upon him.

At a few drops of women's rheum,

which are as cheap as lies,

he sold the blood and labor

of our great action.

Therefore shall he die...

...and I'll renew me in his fall.

Say no more.

I am returned your soldier,

no more infected with my country's love

than when I parted hence,

but still subsisting

under your great command.

We have made peace with

no less honor to the Volscians

than shame to the Romans.

Tell the traitor,

in the highest degree

- he hath abused your powers.

- Traitor? How now?

Aye, traitor, Martius.

- "Martius"?

- Aye, Martius.

Caius Martius.

Dost thou think I'll grace

thee with that robbery,

thy stolen name "Coriolanus"?

Perfidiously he hath

betrayed your business

and given up,

for certain drops of salt,

your city, Rome.

I say "your city,"

for his wife and mother.

Breaking his oath and resolution

like a twist of rotten silk.

Never admitting counsel of the war,

but at his nurse's tears,

he whined and roared away your victory.

Hear'st thou, Mars?

Name not the god, thou boy of tears.

Measureless liar, thou has made my heart

too great for what contains it.

"Boy"? O slave.

Cut me to pieces, Volsces!

Men and lads,

stain all your edges on me!

"Boy"?

If you have writ your annals true,

'tis there that,

like an eagle in a dovecote,

I fluttered your Volscians in Corioles.

Alone I did it.

"Boy."

Let him die for it.

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