Chapter: ACT V. SCENE I.
Rome. A public place

Enter MENENIUS, COMINIUS, SICINIUS and BRUTUS, the two Tribunes,
with others

  MENENIUS. No, I'll not go. You hear what he hath said
    Which was sometime his general, who lov'd him
    In a most dear particular. He call'd me father;
    But what o' that? Go, you that banish'd him:
    A mile before his tent fall down, and knee
    The way into his mercy. Nay, if he coy'd
    To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home.
  COMINIUS. He would not seem to know me.
  MENENIUS. Do you hear?
  COMINIUS. Yet one time he did call me by my name.
    I urg'd our old acquaintance, and the drops
    That we have bled together. 'Coriolanus'
    He would not answer to; forbid all names;
    He was a kind of nothing, titleless,
    Till he had forg'd himself a name i' th' fire
    Of burning Rome.
  MENENIUS. Why, so! You have made good work.
    A pair of tribunes that have wrack'd for Rome
    To make coals cheap- a noble memory!
  COMINIUS. I minded him how royal 'twas to pardon
    When it was less expected; he replied,
    It was a bare petition of a state
    To one whom they had punish'd.
  MENENIUS. Very well.
    Could he say less?
  COMINIUS. I offer'd to awaken his regard
    For's private friends; his answer to me was,
    He could not stay to pick them in a pile
    Of noisome musty chaff. He said 'twas folly,
    For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt
    And still to nose th' offence.
  MENENIUS. For one poor grain or two!
    I am one of those. His mother, wife, his child,
    And this brave fellow too- we are the grains:
    You are the musty chaff, and you are smelt
    Above the moon. We must be burnt for you.
  SICINIUS. Nay, pray be patient; if you refuse your aid
    In this so never-needed help, yet do not
    Upbraid's with our distress. But sure, if you
    Would be your country's pleader, your good tongue,
    More than the instant army we can make,
    Might stop our countryman.
  MENENIUS. No; I'll not meddle.
  SICINIUS. Pray you go to him.
  MENENIUS. What should I do?
  BRUTUS. Only make trial what your love can do
    For Rome, towards Marcius.
  MENENIUS. Well, and say that Marcius
    Return me, as Cominius is return'd,
    Unheard- what then?
    But as a discontented friend, grief-shot
    With his unkindness? Say't be so?
  SICINIUS. Yet your good will
    Must have that thanks from Rome after the measure
    As you intended well.
  MENENIUS. I'll undertake't;
    I think he'll hear me. Yet to bite his lip
    And hum at good Cominius much unhearts me.
    He was not taken well: he had not din'd;
    The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then
    We pout upon the morning, are unapt
    To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd
    These pipes and these conveyances of our blood
    With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls
    Than in our priest-like fasts. Therefore I'll watch him
    Till he be dieted to my request,
    And then I'll set upon him.
  BRUTUS. You know the very road into his kindness
    And cannot lose your way.
  MENENIUS. Good faith, I'll prove him,
    Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge
    Of my success.                                          Exit
  COMINIUS. He'll never hear him.
  SICINIUS. Not?
  COMINIUS. I tell you he does sit in gold, his eye
    Red as 'twould burn Rome, and his injury
    The gaoler to his pity. I kneel'd before him;
    'Twas very faintly he said 'Rise'; dismiss'd me
    Thus with his speechless hand. What he would do,
    He sent in writing after me; what he would not,
    Bound with an oath to yield to his conditions;
    So that all hope is vain,
    Unless his noble mother and his wife,
    Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him
    For mercy to his country. Therefore let's hence,
    And with our fair entreaties haste them on.           Exeunt





SCENE II.
The Volscian camp before Rome

Enter MENENIUS to the WATCH on guard

  FIRST WATCH. Stay. Whence are you?
  SECOND WATCH. Stand, and go back.
  MENENIUS. You guard like men, 'tis well; but, by your leave,
    I am an officer of state and come
    To speak with Coriolanus.
  FIRST WATCH. From whence?
  MENENIUS. From Rome.
  FIRST WATCH. You may not pass; you must return. Our general
    Will no more hear from thence.
  SECOND WATCH. You'll see your Rome embrac'd with fire before
    You'll speak with Coriolanus.
  MENENIUS. Good my friends,
    If you have heard your general talk of Rome
    And of his friends there, it is lots to blanks
    My name hath touch'd your ears: it is Menenius.
  FIRST WATCH. Be it so; go back. The virtue of your name
    Is not here passable.
  MENENIUS. I tell thee, fellow,
    Thy general is my lover. I have been
    The book of his good acts whence men have read
    His fame unparallel'd haply amplified;
    For I have ever verified my friends-
    Of whom he's chief- with all the size that verity
    Would without lapsing suffer. Nay, sometimes,
    Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground,
    I have tumbled past the throw, and in his praise
    Have almost stamp'd the leasing; therefore, fellow,
    I must have leave to pass.
  FIRST WATCH. Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies in his
behalf
    as you have uttered words in your own, you should not pass
here;
    no, though it were as virtuous to lie as to live chastely.
    Therefore go back.
  MENENIUS. Prithee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius, always
    factionary on the party of your general.
  SECOND WATCH. Howsoever you have been his liar, as you say you
    have, I am one that, telling true under him, must say you
cannot
    pass. Therefore go back.
  MENENIUS. Has he din'd, canst thou tell? For I would not speak
with
    him till after dinner.
  FIRST WATCH. You are a Roman, are you?
  MENENIUS. I am as thy general is.
  FIRST WATCH. Then you should hate Rome, as he does. Can you,
when
    you have push'd out your gates the very defender of them, and
in
    a violent popular ignorance given your enemy your shield,
think
    to front his revenges with the easy groans of old women, the
    virginal palms of your daughters, or with the palsied
    intercession of such a decay'd dotant as you seem to be? Can
you
    think to blow out the intended fire your city is ready to
flame
    in with such weak breath as this? No, you are deceiv'd;
therefore
    back to Rome and prepare for your execution. You are
condemn'd;
    our general has sworn you out of reprieve and pardon.
  MENENIUS. Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here, he would use
me
    with estimation.
  FIRST WATCH. Come, my captain knows you not.
  MENENIUS. I mean thy general.
  FIRST WATCH. My general cares not for you. Back, I say; go,
lest I
    let forth your half pint of blood. Back- that's the utmost of


    your having. Back.
  MENENIUS. Nay, but fellow, fellow-

                      Enter CORIOLANUS with AUFIDIUS

  CORIOLANUS. What's the matter?
  MENENIUS. Now, you companion, I'll say an errand for you; you
shall
    know now that I am in estimation; you shall perceive that a
Jack
    guardant cannot office me from my son Coriolanus. Guess but
by my
    entertainment with him if thou stand'st not i' th' state of
    hanging, or of some death more long in spectatorship and
crueller
    in suffering; behold now presently, and swoon for what's to
come
    upon thee. The glorious gods sit in hourly synod about thy
    particular prosperity, and love thee no worse than thy old
father
    Menenius does! O my son! my son! thou art preparing fire for
us;
    look thee, here'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 and thy petitionary countrymen. The good gods
assuage
    thy wrath, and turn the dregs of it upon this varlet here;
this,
    who, like a block, hath denied my access to thee.
  CORIOLANUS. Away!
  MENENIUS. How! away!
  CORIOLANUS. Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs
    Are servanted to others. Though I owe
    My revenge properly, my remission lies
    In Volscian breasts. That we have been familiar,
    Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison rather
    Than pity note how much. Therefore be gone.
    Mine ears against your suits are stronger than
    Your gates against my force. Yet, for I lov'd thee,
    Take this along; I writ it for thy sake     [Gives a letter]
    And would have sent it. Another word, Menenius,
    I will not hear thee speak. This man, Aufidius,
    Was my belov'd in Rome; yet thou behold'st.
  AUFIDIUS. You keep a constant temper.
                                  Exeunt CORIOLANUS and Aufidius
  FIRST WATCH. Now, sir, is your name Menenius?
  SECOND WATCH. 'Tis a spell, you see, of much power! You know
the
    way home again.
  FIRST WATCH. Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your
    greatness back?
  SECOND WATCH. What cause, do you think, I have to swoon?
  MENENIUS. I neither care for th' world nor your general; for
such
    things as you, I can scarce think there's any, y'are so
slight.
    He that hath a will to die by himself fears it not from
another.
    Let your general do his worst. For you, be that you are,
long;
    and your misery increase with your age! I say to you, as I
was
    said to: Away!                                          Exit
  FIRST WATCH. A noble fellow, I warrant him.
  SECOND WATCH. The worthy fellow is our general; he's the rock,
the
    oak not to be wind-shaken.                            Exeunt





SCENE III.
The tent of CORIOLANUS

Enter CORIOLANUS, AUFIDIUS, and others

  CORIOLANUS. We will before the walls of Rome to-morrow
    Set down our host. My partner in this action,
    You must report to th' Volscian lords how plainly
    I have borne this business.
  AUFIDIUS. Only their ends
    You have respected; stopp'd your ears against
    The general suit of Rome; never admitted
    A private whisper- no, not with such friends
    That thought them sure of you.
  CORIOLANUS. This last old man,
    Whom with crack'd heart I have sent to Rome,
    Lov'd me above the measure of a father;
    Nay, godded me indeed. Their latest refuge
    Was to send him; for whose old love I have-
    Though I show'd sourly to him- once more offer'd
    The first conditions, which they did refuse
    And cannot now accept. To grace him only,
    That thought he could do more, a very little
    I have yielded to; fresh embassies and suits,
    Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafter
    Will I lend ear to.  [Shout within]  Ha! what shout is this?
    Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow
    In the same time 'tis made? I will not.

       Enter, in mourning habits, VIRGILIA, VOLUMNIA, VALERIA,
                   YOUNG MARCIUS, with attendants

    My wife comes foremost, then the honour'd mould
    Wherein this trunk was fram'd, and in her hand
    The grandchild to her blood. But out, affection!
    All bond and privilege of nature, break!
    Let it be virtuous to be obstinate.
    What is that curtsy worth? or those doves' eyes,
    Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not
    Of stronger earth than others. My mother bows,
    As if Olympus to a molehill should
    In supplication nod; and my young boy
    Hath an aspect of intercession which
    Great nature cries 'Deny not.' Let the Volsces
    Plough Rome and harrow Italy; I'll never
    Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand
    As if a man were author of himself
    And knew no other kin.
  VIRGILIA. My lord and husband!
  CORIOLANUS. These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome.
  VIRGILIA. The sorrow that delivers us thus chang'd
    Makes you think so.
  CORIOLANUS. Like a dull actor now
    I have forgot my part and I am out,
    Even to a full disgrace. 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!
    Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss
    I carried from thee, dear, and my true lip
    Hath virgin'd it e'er since. You gods! I prate,
    And the most noble mother of the world
    Leave unsaluted. Sink, my knee, i' th' earth;       [Kneels]
    Of thy deep duty more impression show
    Than that of common sons.
  VOLUMNIA. O, stand up blest!
    Whilst with no softer cushion than the flint
    I kneel before thee, and unproperly
    Show duty, as mistaken all this while
    Between the child and parent.                       [Kneels]
  CORIOLANUS. What's this?
    Your knees to me, to your corrected son?
    Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach
    Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds
    Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun,
    Murd'ring impossibility, to make
    What cannot be slight work.
  VOLUMNIA. Thou art my warrior;
    I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady?
  CORIOLANUS. The noble sister of Publicola,
    The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle
    That's curdied by the frost from purest snow,
    And hangs on Dian's temple- dear Valeria!
  VOLUMNIA. This is a poor epitome of yours,
    Which by th' interpretation of full time
    May show like all yourself.
  CORIOLANUS. The god of soldiers,
    With the consent of supreme Jove, inform
    Thy thoughts with nobleness, that thou mayst prove
    To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' th' wars
    Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw,
    And saving those that eye thee!
  VOLUMNIA. Your knee, sirrah.
  CORIOLANUS. That's my brave boy.
  VOLUMNIA. Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself,
    Are suitors to you.
  CORIOLANUS. I beseech you, peace!
    Or, if you'd ask, remember this before:
    The thing I have forsworn to grant may never
    Be held by you denials. Do not bid me
    Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate
    Again with Rome's mechanics. Tell me not
    Wherein I seem unnatural; desire not
    T'allay my rages and revenges with
    Your colder reasons.
  VOLUMNIA. O, no more, no more!
    You have said you will not grant us any thing-
    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.
  CORIOLANUS. Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark; for we'll
    Hear nought from Rome in private. Your request?
  VOLUMNIA. Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment
    And state of bodies would bewray 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, tearing
    His country's bowels out. And to poor we
    Thine enmity's most capital: thou bar'st us
    Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort
    That all but we enjoy. For how can we,
    Alas, how can we for our country pray,
    Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory,
    Whereto we are bound? Alack, or we must lose
    The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person,
    Our comfort in the country. 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 can not persuade thee
    Rather to show a noble grace to both parts
    Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner
    March to assault thy country than to tread-
    Trust to't, thou shalt not- on thy mother's womb
    That brought thee to this world.
  VIRGILIA. Ay, and mine,
    That brought you forth this boy to keep your name
    Living to time.
  BOY. 'A shall not tread on me!
    I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I'll fight.
  CORIOLANUS. Not of a woman's tenderness to be
    Requires nor child nor woman's face to see.
    I have sat too long.                                [Rising]
  VOLUMNIA. 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, you might condemn us
    As poisonous of your honour. No, our suit
    Is that you reconcile them: while the Volsces
    May say 'This mercy we have show'd,' the Romans
    'This we receiv'd,' and each in either side
    Give the all-hail to thee, and cry 'Be blest
    For making up this peace!' Thou know'st, great son,
    The end of war's uncertain; but this certain,
    That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit
    Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name
    Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses;
    Whose chronicle thus writ: 'The man was noble,
    But with his last attempt he wip'd it out,
    Destroy'd his country, and his name remains
    To th' ensuing age abhorr'd.' Speak to me, son.
    Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour,
    To imitate the graces of the gods,
    To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' th' air,
    And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt
    That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak?
    Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man
    Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speak you:
    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's mother, yet here he lets me prate
    Like one i' th' stocks. Thou hast never in thy life
    Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy,
    When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood,
    Has cluck'd thee to the wars, and safely home
    Loaden with honour. 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 restrain'st from me the duty which
    To a mother's part belongs. He turns away.
    Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees.
    To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride
    Than pity to our prayers. Down. An end;
    This is the last. So we will home to Rome,
    And die among our neighbours. Nay, behold's!
    This boy, that cannot tell what he would have
    But kneels and holds up hands for fellowship,
    Does reason our petition with more strength
    Than thou hast to deny't. Come, let us go.
    This fellow had a Volscian to his mother;
    His wife is in Corioli, and his child
    Like him by chance. Yet give us our dispatch.
    I am hush'd until our city be afire,
    And then I'll speak a little.
                              [He holds her by the hand, silent]
  CORIOLANUS. 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 with him prevail'd,
    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?
  AUFIDIUS. I was mov'd withal.
  CORIOLANUS. 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. For my part,
    I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and pray you
    Stand to me in this cause. O mother! wife!
  AUFIDIUS.  [Aside]  I am glad thou hast set thy mercy and thy
      honour
    At difference in thee. Out of that I'll work
    Myself a former fortune.
  CORIOLANUS.  [To the ladies]  Ay, by and by;
    But we will drink together; and you shall bear
    A better witness back than words, which we,
    On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd.
    Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve
    To have a temple built you. All the swords
    In Italy, and her confederate arms,
    Could not have made this peace.                       Exeunt





SCENE IV.
Rome. A public place

Enter MENENIUS and SICINIUS

  MENENIUS. See you yond coign o' th' Capitol, yond cornerstone?
  SICINIUS. Why, what of that?
  MENENIUS. If it be possible for you to displace it with your
little
    finger, there is some hope the ladies of Rome, especially his
    mother, may prevail with him. But I say there is no hope
in't;
    our throats are sentenc'd, and stay upon execution.
  SICINIUS. Is't possible that so short a time can alter the
    condition of a man?
  MENENIUS. There is differency between a grub and a butterfly;
yet
    your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown from man to
    dragon; he has wings, he's more than a creeping thing.
  SICINIUS. He lov'd his mother dearly.
  MENENIUS. So did he me; and he no more remembers his mother now
    than an eight-year-old horse. The tartness of his face sours
ripe
    grapes; when he walks, he moves like an engine and the ground
    shrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corslet
with
    his eye, talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He
sits in
    his state as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done
is
    finish'd with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but
    eternity, and a heaven to throne in.
  SICINIUS. Yes- mercy, if you report him truly.
  MENENIUS. I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his
mother
    shall bring from him. There is no more mercy in him than
there is
    milk in a male tiger; that shall our poor city find. And all
this
    is 'long of you.
  SICINIUS. The gods be good unto us!
  MENENIUS. No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us.
    When we banish'd him we respected not them; and, he returning
to
    break our necks, they respect not us.

                           Enter a MESSENGER

  MESSENGER. Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to your house.
    The plebeians have got your fellow tribune
    And hale him up and down; all swearing if
    The Roman ladies bring not comfort home
    They'll give him death by inches.

                         Enter another MESSENGER

  SICINIUS. What's the news?
  SECOND MESSENGER. Good news, good news! The ladies have
prevail'd,
    The Volscians are dislodg'd, and Marcius gone.
    A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,
    No, not th' expulsion of the Tarquins.
  SICINIUS. Friend,
    Art thou certain this is true? Is't most certain?
  SECOND MESSENGER. As certain as I know the sun is fire.
    Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it?
    Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide
    As the recomforted through th' gates. Why, hark you!
                  [Trumpets, hautboys, drums beat, all together]
    The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes,
    Tabors and cymbals, and the shouting Romans,
    Make the sun dance. Hark you!               [A shout within]
  MENENIUS. This is good news.
    I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia
    Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians,
    A city full; of tribunes such as you,
    A sea and land full. You have pray'd well to-day:
    This morning for ten thousand of your throats
    I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy!
                                   [Sound still with the shouts]
  SICINIUS. First, the gods bless you for your tidings; next,
    Accept my thankfulness.
  SECOND MESSENGER. Sir, we have all
    Great cause to give great thanks.
  SICINIUS. They are near the city?
  MESSENGER. Almost at point to enter.
  SICINIUS. We'll meet them,
    And help the joy.                                     Exeunt





SCENE V.
Rome. A street near the gate

Enter two SENATORS With VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, VALERIA, passing over
the stage,
'With other LORDS

  FIRST SENATOR. Behold our patroness, the life of Rome!
    Call all your tribes together, praise the gods,
    And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before them.
    Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius,
    Repeal him with the welcome of his mother;
  ALL. Welcome, ladies, welcome!
                    [A flourish with drums and trumpets. Exeunt]





SCENE VI.
Corioli. A public place

Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS with attendents

  AUFIDIUS. Go tell the lords o' th' city I am here;
    Deliver them this paper; having read it,
    Bid them repair to th' market-place, where I,
    Even in theirs and in the commons' ears,
    Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse
    The city ports by this hath enter'd and
    Intends t' appear before the people, hoping
    To purge himself with words. Dispatch.
                                               Exeunt attendants

           Enter three or four CONSPIRATORS of AUFIDIUS' faction

    Most welcome!
  FIRST CONSPIRATOR. How is it with our general?
  AUFIDIUS. Even so
    As with a man by his own alms empoison'd,
    And with his charity slain.
  SECOND CONSPIRATOR. Most noble sir,
    If you do hold the same intent wherein
    You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you
    Of your great danger.
  AUFIDIUS. Sir, I cannot tell;
    We must proceed as we do find the people.
  THIRD CONSPIRATOR. The people will remain uncertain whilst
    'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either
    Makes the survivor heir of all.
  AUFIDIUS. I know it;
    And my pretext to strike at him admits
    A good construction. I rais'd him, and I pawn'd
    Mine honour for his truth; who being so heighten'd,
    He watered his new plants with dews of flattery,
    Seducing so my friends; and to this end
    He bow'd his nature, never known before
    But to be rough, unswayable, and free.
  THIRD CONSPIRATOR. Sir, his stoutness
    When he did stand for consul, which he lost
    By lack of stooping-
  AUFIDIUS. That I would have spoken of.
    Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth,
    Presented to my knife his throat. I took him;
    Made him joint-servant with me; gave him way
    In all his own desires; nay, let him choose
    Out of my files, his projects to accomplish,
    My best and freshest men; serv'd his designments
    In mine own person; holp to reap the fame
    Which he did end all his, and took some pride
    To do myself this wrong. Till, at the last,
    I seem'd his follower, not partner; and
    He wag'd me with his countenance as if
    I had been mercenary.
  FIRST CONSPIRATOR. So he did, my lord.
    The army marvell'd at it; and, in the last,
    When he had carried Rome and that we look'd
    For no less spoil than glory-
  AUFIDIUS. There was it;
    For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him.
    At a few drops of women's rheum, which are
    As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour
    Of our great action; therefore shall he die,
    And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark!
                                                      [Drums and
                trumpets sound, with great shouts of the people]
  FIRST CONSPIRATOR. Your native town you enter'd like a post,
    And had no welcomes home; but he returns
    Splitting the air with noise.
  SECOND CONSPIRATOR. And patient fools,
    Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear
    With giving him glory.
  THIRD CONSPIRATOR. Therefore, at your vantage,
    Ere he express himself or move the people
    With what he would say, let him feel your sword,
    Which we will second. When he lies along,
    After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury
    His reasons with his body.
  AUFIDIUS. Say no more:
    Here come the lords.

                     Enter the LORDS of the city

  LORDS. You are most welcome home.
  AUFIDIUS. I have not deserv'd it.
    But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused
    What I have written to you?
  LORDS. We have.
  FIRST LORD. And grieve to hear't.
    What faults he made before the last, I think
    Might have found easy fines; but there to end
    Where he was to begin, and give away
    The benefit of our levies, answering us
    With our own charge, making a treaty where
    There was a yielding- this admits no excuse.
  AUFIDIUS. He approaches; you shall hear him.

            Enter CORIOLANUS, marching with drum and colours;
                      the commoners being with him

  CORIOLANUS. Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier;
    No more infected with my country's love
    Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting
    Under your great command. You are to know
    That prosperously I have attempted, and
    With bloody passage led your wars even to
    The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home
    Doth more than counterpoise a full third part
    The charges of the action. We have made peace
    With no less honour to the Antiates
    Than shame to th' Romans; and we here deliver,
    Subscrib'd by th' consuls and patricians,
    Together with the seal o' th' Senate, what
    We have compounded on.
  AUFIDIUS. Read it not, noble lords;
    But tell the traitor in the highest degree
    He hath abus'd your powers.
  CORIOLANUS. Traitor! How now?
  AUFIDIUS. Ay, traitor, Marcius.
  CORIOLANUS. Marcius!
  AUFIDIUS. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius! Dost thou think
    I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name
    Coriolanus, in Corioli?
    You lords and heads o' th' state, perfidiously
    He has betray'd your business and given up,
    For certain drops of salt, your city Rome-
    I say your city- to his wife and mother;
    Breaking his oath and resolution like
    A twist of rotten silk; never admitting
    Counsel o' th' war; but at his nurse's tears
    He whin'd and roar'd away your victory,
    That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart
    Look'd wond'ring each at others.
  CORIOLANUS. Hear'st thou, Mars?
  AUFIDIUS. Name not the god, thou boy of tears-
  CORIOLANUS. Ha!
  AUFIDIUS. -no more.
  CORIOLANUS. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart
    Too great for what contains it. 'Boy'! O slave!
    Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever
    I was forc'd to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords,
    Must give this cur the lie; and his own notion-
    Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him, that
    Must bear my beating to his grave- shall join
    To thrust the lie unto him.
  FIRST LORD. Peace, both, and hear me speak.
  CORIOLANUS. Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and lads,
    Stain all your edges on me. 'Boy'! False hound!
    If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there
    That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I
    Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli.
    Alone I did it. 'Boy'!
  AUFIDIUS. Why, noble lords,
    Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune,
    Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart,
    Fore your own eyes and ears?
  CONSPIRATORS. Let him die for't.
  ALL THE PEOPLE. Tear him to pieces. Do it presently. He kill'd
my
    son. My daughter. He kill'd my cousin Marcus. He kill'd my
    father.
  SECOND LORD. Peace, ho! No outrage- peace!
    The man is noble, and his fame folds in
    This orb o' th' earth. His last offences to us
    Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius,
    And trouble not the peace.
  CORIOLANUS. O that I had him,
    With six Aufidiuses, or more- his tribe,
    To use my lawful sword!
  AUFIDIUS. Insolent villain!
  CONSPIRATORS. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him!
           [The CONSPIRATORS draw and kill CORIOLANUS,who falls.
                                         AUFIDIUS stands on him]
  LORDS. Hold, hold, hold, hold!
  AUFIDIUS. My noble masters, hear me speak.
  FIRST LORD. O Tullus!
  SECOND LORD. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep.
  THIRD LORD. Tread not upon him. Masters all, be quiet;
    Put up your swords.
  AUFIDIUS. My lords, when you shall know- as in this rage,
    Provok'd by him, you cannot- the great danger
    Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice
    That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours
    To call me to your Senate, I'll deliver
    Myself your loyal servant, or endure
    Your heaviest censure.
  FIRST LORD. Bear from hence his body,
    And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded
    As the most noble corse that ever herald
    Did follow to his um.
  SECOND LORD. His own impatience
    Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.
    Let's make the best of it.
  AUFIDIUS. My rage is gone,
    And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up.
    Help, three o' th' chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.
    Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully;
    Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he
    Hath widowed and unchilded many a one,
    Which to this hour bewail the injury,
    Yet he shall have a noble memory.
    Assist.               Exeunt, bearing the body of CORIOLANUS

                                          [A dead march sounded]



THE END

 Menenius speaks to Cominius and the two tribunes; they are asking him to go and plead with Coriolanus, though Menenius knows that if Coriolanus had previously ignored Cominius' pleas, he will be of no use to them. Menenius says that the tribunes, who arranged for him to get thrown out of the city, should be the ones to beg Coriolanus to stop his attack on Rome. Menenius scolds the tribunes for making such a mess, since Coriolanus seems unlikely to show Rome any mercy in this case. However, the tribunes finally persuade Menenius to confront Coriolanus.

