CORIOLANUS

Thanks. What's the matter you dissentious rogues That rubbing the poor Itch of your Opinion, Make your selves Scabs. 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 Lyons, finds you Hares: Where Foxes, Geese you are: No surer, no, Then 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 sickmans Appetite; who desires most that Which would increase his evil. He that depends Upon your favours, swims with fins of Lead, And hues down Oaks, with rushes. Hang you: trust you? With every Minute you do change a Mind, And call him Noble, that was now your Hate: Him vild, 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? Hang they: They say? They'll fit by the fire, and presume to know What's done in that Capitol: Who's Like to rise, Who thrives, & who declines: Side factions, & give out Conjectural Marriages, making parties strong And feebling such as stand not in their liking, Below their cobbled Shoes. They say ther's grain enough? Would the Nobility lay aside their ruth, And let me use my Sword, I'de make a Quarry With thousands of these quartered slaves, as high As I could pick my Lance. They are dissolved: Hang em; They said they were and 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 Richmen 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 of that Moon, Shooting their Emulation. Five Tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdom Of their own choice. One's Junius Brutus, Sicinius Velutus, and I know not. 'Sdeath, The rabble should have first vnroo'ft the City Ere so prevailed with me; it will in time Win upon power, and throw forth greater Theames For Insurrections arguing. Go get you home you Fragments. Here: what's the matter? I am glad on't, then we shall would means to vent Our musty superfluity. See our best Elders. They have a Leader, Tullus Auffidius that will put you too't: I sin in envying his Nobility: And were I any thing but what I am, I would wish me only he. Were half to half the world by the ears, & he upon my party, I'de revolt to make Only my wars with him. He is a Lion That I am proud to hunt. Sir it is, And I am constant: Titus Lucius, thou Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus face. What art thou stiff? Standest out? Nay let them follow, The Volces have much Corn: take these Rats thither, To gnaw their Garners. Worshipful Mutineers, Your valour puts well forth: Pray follow. 'Tis done. Say, ha our General met the Enemy? How far off lie these Armies? Then shall we hear their Alarm, & 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. Tullus Auffidious, is he within your Walls? They fear us not, but issue forth their City. Now put your Shields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proof then 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 Volce, And he shall feel mine edge. All the contagion of the South, light on you, You Shames of Room: you Herd of Biles and Plagues Plaster you over, that you may be abhorred Farther then 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 read, 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 too't: Come on, If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their Wives, As they us to our Trenches follows. So, now the gates are open: now prove good Seconds, It's for the followers Fortune, widens them, Not for the flyers: Mark me, and do the Like. 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. And hark, what noise the General makes: To him There is the man of my souls hate, Auffidious, 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. Sir, praise me not: My work hath yet not warmed me. Fare you well: The blood I drop, is rather Physical Then dangerous to me: To Auffidious thus, I will appear and fight. Thy Friend no less, Then those she places highest: So farewell. Come I too late? As with a man busied about Decrees: Condemning some to death, and some to exile, Ransoming him, or pitying, threatening the other; Holding Corioles in the name of Room, Even Like a fawning Greyhound in the Leash, To let him slip at will. Let him alone, He did inform the truth: but for our Gentlemen, The common file, (a plague-Tribunes for them) The Mouse never shunned the Cat, as they did budge From Rascals worse then they. Will the time serve to tell, I do not think: Where is the enemy? Are you Lords of that Field? If not, why cease you till you are so? How lies their Battle? Know you on w c side They have placed their men of trust? I do beseech you, By all the Battles wherein we have fought, By the Blood we have shed together, By the Vows we have made To endure Friends, that you directly set me Against Affidious, and his Antiats, And that you not delay the present (but Filling the air with Swords advanced) and Darts, We prove this very hour. 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 Lessen his person, then and ill report: If any think, brave death outweighs bade life, And that his Countries dearer then himself, Let him alone: Or so many so minded, Wave thus to express his disposition, And follow Martius. O me alone, make you a sword of me: If these shows be not outward, which of you But is four Volces ? None of you, but is Able to bear against the great Auffidious 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 four shall quickly draw out my Command, Which men are best inclined. I'll fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee Worse then a Promise-breaker. Let the first Budger die the others Slave, And the Gods doom him after. Within these three hours Tullus Alone I fought in your Corioles walls, And made what work I pleased: It's not my blood, Wherein thou seest me masked, for thy Revenge Wrench up thy power to the highest. May these same Instruments, which you profane, Never found more: when Drums and Trumpets shall In the field prove flatterers, let Courts and Cities be Made all of false-fac'd soothing: When Steel grows soft, as the Phrasites Silk, Let him be made and Overture 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 shoot me forth in acclamations hyperbolical, As if I loved my little should be dieted In praises, sawc'st with Lies. Yonder comes News: A Wager they have met. Come I too late? Pray now, no more: My Mother, who ha a Charter to extol her Blood, When she do's 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 ha but effected his good will, Hath ouerta'ne mine Act. I have some Wounds upon me, and they smart To hear themselves remembered. 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 partly with those, That have beheld the doing. I will go wash: And when my Face is fair, you shall perceive Whither I blush, or no: howbeit, I thank you, I mean to stride your Steed, and at all times To vnder-crest your good Addition, To the fairness of my power. The Gods begin to mock me: I that now refused most Princely gifts, Am bound to beg of my Lord General. I sometime lay here in Corioles, At a poor men house: he used me kindly, He cried to me: I saw him Prisoner: But then Auffidius was within my view, And Wrath overwhelmed my pity: I request you To give my poor Host freedom. By Jupiter forgotten: I am weary, yea my memory is tired: Have we no Wine here? I'll buy him of you. O they are at it. O! let me clip you In Arms as found, as when I wooed in heart; As merry, as when our Nuptial day was done, And Tapers burned to Bedward. Bear the addition Nobly ever? No more of this, it does offend my heart: pray now no more. O! you have, I know, petitioned all the Gods for my prosperity. Your Honours pardon: I had rather have my Wounds to heal again, Then hear say how I God them. No Sir: yet oft, When blows have made me stay, I fled from words. You soothed not, therefore hurt not: but your People, I love them as they weigh— Think upon me? Hang they, I would they would forget me, Like the Virtues Which our Divines loose by em. Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your voices, that I may be Consul, I have here the Customary Gown. Your Aenigma. You should account me the more Virtuous, that I have not been common in my Love, I will sir flatter my sworn Brother the people to earn a dearer estima cion of them, it's a condition they account gentle & since the wisdom of their choice, is rather to have my Hat, then my Heart, I will practice the insinuating nod, and be off to them most counterfeitly, that is sir, I will counter fetched the bewitchment of some popular man, and give it bountiful to the desire S: Therefore beseech you, I may be Consul. I will not Seal your knowledge with showing them. I will make much of your voices, and so trouble you no farther. Most sweet Voices: Better it is to die, better to starve, Then crave the higher, which first we do deserve. Why in this Wolvish tongue should I stand here, To beg of Hob and Dick, that does appear Their needless Vouches: Custom calls me too't. What Custom wills in all things, should we doo't? The Dust on antique Time would lie unswept, And mountainous Error be too highly heaped, For Truth to over-peer. Rather then fool it so, Let the high Office and the Honour go To one that would do thus. I am half through, The one partly suffered, the other will I do. Here come more Voices. Your Voices? for your Voices I have fought, Watched for your Voices: for your Voices, bear Of Wounds, two dozen odd: Battles thrice six I have seen, and herd of: for your Voices, Have done many things, some less, some more: Your Voices? Indeed I would be Consul. My gracious silence, hail: Wouldst thou have laughed, had I come Coffined home, That weepest to see me triumph? Ah my deer, Such eyes the Widows in Carioles were, And Mother's that lack Sons. I had rather have one scratch my Head in the Sun, When the Alarm were struck, then idly fit To hear my Nothings monster'd. I do owe them still my Life, and Services. I do beseech you, Let me o're-leape that custom: for I cannot Put on the Gown, stand naked, and entreat them For my Wounds sake, to give their suffrage: Please you that I may pass this doing. It is a partly that I shall blush in acting, And might well be taken from the People. To brag unto them, thus I did, and thus Show them the vnaking Skarres, which I should hide, As if I had received them for the hire Of their breath only. What must I say, I pray Sir? Plague vpon't, I cannot bring My tougue to such a pace. Look Sir, my wounds, I God them in my Countries Service, when Some certain of your Brothers roared, and ran From the noise of our own Drums. Bid them wash their Faces, And keep their teeth clean: So, here comes a brace, You know the cause (Sir) of my standing here. Mine own desert. I, but mine own desire. No Sir, 'twas never my desire yet to trouble the poor with begging. Well then I pray, your price of the Consulship. Kindly sir, I pray let me have't: I have wounds to show you, which shall be yours in private: your good voice Sir, what say you? A match Sir, there's in all two worthy voices begged: I have your Alms, Adieu. Worthy Voices. Is this done? Where? at the Senate-house? May I change these Garments? Tullus Auffidius then had made new head. So then the Volces stand but as at first, Ready when time shall prompt them, to make road Upon's again. Saw you Auffidius ? Spoke he of me? How? what? At Antium lives he? I wish I had a cause to seek him there, To oppose his hatred fully. Welcome home. Behold, these are the Tribunes of the People, The Tongues of the Common Mouth. I do despise them: For they do prank them in Authority, Against all Noble sufferance. What makes this change? Have I had Children's Voices? Are these your Herd? Must these have Voices, that can yield them now, And straight disclaim their tongues? what are your Offices? You being their Mouths, why rule you not their Teeth? Have you not set them on? It is a purposed thing, and grows by Plot, To curb the will of the Nobility: Suffer't, and live with such as cannot rule, Nor ever will be ruled. Why this was known before. Have you informed them since? Why then should I be Consul? by yond Clouds Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me Your fellow Tribune. Tell me of Corn: this was my speech, And I will speak't again. Now as I live, I will. My Nobler friends, I crave their pardons: For the mutable ranke-sented Meynie, Let them regard me, as I do not flatter, And therein behold themselves: I say again, In soothing them, we nourish against our Senate The Cockle of Rebellion, Insolence, Sedition, Which we our selves have plowed for, sowed, & scattered, By mingling them with us, the honoured Number, Who lack not Virtue, no, nor Power, but that Which they have given to Beggars. How? no more? As for my Country, I have shed my blood, Not fearing outward force: So shall my Lungs Coin words till their decay, against those Meazels Which we disdain should Tetter us, yet sought The very way to catch them. Shall remain? Hear you this Triton of the Minnoues ? Mark you His absolute Shall? Who ever gave that counsel, to give forth The Corn of the Storehouse gratis, as 'twas used Sometime in Greece. I'll give my Reasons, More worthier then their Voices. They know the Corn Was not our recompense, resting well assured They never did service for't; being pressed to the War, Even when the Navel of the State was touched, They would not thread the Gates: This kind of Service Did not deserve Corn gratis. Being in the War, There Mutinies and Revolts, wherein they showed Most Valour spoke not for them. the Accusation Which they have often made against the Senate, All cause unborn, could never be the Native Of our so frank Donation. Well, what then? How shall this Bosome-multiplied, digest The Senates Courtesy? Let deeds express What's Like to be their words, We did request it, We are the greater pole, and in true fear They gave us our demands. Thus we debase The Nature of our Seats, and make the Rabble Call our Cares, Fears; which will in time Break open the Locks of the Senate, and bring in The Crows to peck the Eagles. No, take more. What may be sworn by, both Divine and Humane, Seal what I end withal. This double worship, Whereon partly do's disdain with cause, the other Insult without all reason: where Gentry, Title, wisdom Cannot conclude, but by the yea and no Of general Ignorance, it must omit Real Necessities, and give way the while To unstable Slightness. Purpose so barred, it follows, Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore beseech you, You that will be less fearful, then discreet, That love the Fundamental partly of State More then you doubt the change on't: That prefer A Noble life, before a Long, and Wish, To jump a Body with a dangerous Physic, That's sure of death without it: at once pluck out The Multitudinous Tongue, let them not icke The sweet which is their poison. Your dishonour Mangles true judgement, and bereaves the State Of that Integrity which should becom't: Not having the power to do the good it would For the ill which does controul't. Thou wretch, despite overwhelm thee: What should the people do with these bald Tribunes? On whom depending, their obedience fails To the greater Bench, in a Rebellion: When what's not me , but what must be, was Law, Then were they chosen: in a better hour, Let what is meet, be said it must be meet, And throw their power in the dust. Hence old Goat. Hence rotten thing, or I shall shake thy bones Out of thy Garments. No, I'll die here: There's some among you have beheld me fighting, Come try upon your selves, what you have seen me. Come Sir, along with us. On fair ground, I could Beatrice forty of them. Let them pull all about mine ears, present me Death on the Wheel, or at wild Horses heals, Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian Rock, That the precipitation might down stretch Below the beam of sighed; yet will I still Be thus to them. I muse my Mother Do's not approve me further, who was wont To call them Woollen Vassals, things created To buy and fell with Groats, to show bore heads In Congregations, to yawn, be still, and wonder, When one but of my ordinance stood up To speak of Peace, or War. I talk of you, Why did you wish me milder? Would you have me False to my Nature? Rather say, I play The man I am. Let go. Let them hang. What must I do? Well, what then? what then? For them, I cannot do it to the Gods, Must I then doo't to them? Tush, tush. Why force you this? Must I go show them my unbarbed Sconce? Must I with my base Tongue give to my Noble Heart A Lie, that it must bear well? I will doo't: Yet were there but this single Plot, to lose This Mould of Martius, they to dust should grind it, And throw't against the Wind. Toth' Market place: You have put me now to such a partly, which never I shall discharge toth' Life. Well, I must doo't: Away my disposition, and possess me Some Harlots spirit: My throat of War be turned, Which quier'd with my Drum into a Pipe, Small as and Eunuch, or the Virgin voice That Babies lull asleep: The smiles of Knaves Tent in my cheeks, and School-boys Tears take up The Glasses of my sighed: A Beggars Tongue Make motion through my Lips, and my Armed knees Who bowed but in my Stirrup, bend Like his That hath received and Alms. I will not doo't, Leaft I surcease to honour mine own truth, And by my Bodies Actium, teach my Mind A most inherent Baseness. Pray be content: Mother, I am going to the Market place: Chide me no more. I'll Mountebanke their Loves, Cog their Hearts from them, and come home beloved Of all the Trades in Room. Look, I am going: Commend me to my Wife, I'll return Consul, Or never trust to what my Tongue can do In that way of Flattery further. The word is, Mildly. Pray you let us go, Let them accuse me by invention: I Will answer in mine Honour. Well mildly be it then, Mildly. I, as and Hostler, that fourth poorest piece Will bear the Knave by 'th Volume: the honoured Gods Keep Room in safety, and the Chairs of Justice Supplied with worthy men, plant love amongst Through our large Temples with y e shows of peace And not our streets with War. First hear me speak. Shall I be charged no further then this present? Must all determine here? I am Content. Scratches with Briers, scars to move Laughter only. What is the matter, That being passed for Consul with full voice: I am so dishonoured, that the very hour You take it off again. Say then: it's true, I ought so How? Traitor? The fires in the lowest hell. Fouled in the people: Call me their Traitor, thou injurious Tribune. Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand death's In thy hands clutched: as many Millions in Thy lying tongue, both numbers. I would say Thou liest unto thee, with a voice as free, As I do pray the Gods. What do you prate of Service. You? I'll know no further: Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, Vagabond exile, Flaying, penned to linger But with a grain a day, I would not buy Their mercy, at the price of one fair word, Nor check my Courage for what they can give, To haue't with saying, Good morrow. You common cry of Curs, whose breath I hate, As reek of the rotten Fens: whose Loves I prize, As the dead Carcases of unburied men, That do corrupt my Air: I banish you, And here remain with your uncertainty. Let every feeble Rumor shake your hearts: Your Enemies, with nodding of their Plumes Fan you into despair: Have the power still To banish your Defenders, till at length Your ignorance (which finds not till it feels, Making but reservation of your selves, Still your own Foes) deliver you As most abated Captives, to some Nation That won you without blows, despising For you the City. Thus I turn my back; There is a world elsewhere. Come leave your tears: a brief farewell: the beast With many heads butts me away. Nay Mother, Where is your ancient Courage? You were used To say, Extremities was the trier of spirits, That common chances. Common men could bear, That when the Sea was calm, all Boats alike Showed Mastership in floating. Fortune's blows, When most struck home, being gentle wounded, craves A Noble cunning. You were used to load me With Precepts that would make invincible The heart that conned them. Nay, I prithee woman. What, what, what: I shall be loved when I am lacked. Nay Mother, Resume that Spirit, when you were wont to say, If you had been the Wife of Hercules. Six of his Labours youled have done, and saved Your Husband so much sweated. Cominius, Droop not, Adieu: Farewell my Wife, my Mother, I'll do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius, Thy tears are salter then a younger men, And venomous to thine eyes. My (sometime) General, I have seen the Stern, and thou hast oft beheld Heart-hardening spectacles. Tell these sad women, It's found to wail inevitable strokes, As it's to laugh at they My Mother, you wot well My hazards still have been your solace, and Beleeu't not lightly, though I go alone Like to a lonely Dragon, that his Fen Makes feared, and talked of more then seen: your Son Will or exceed the Common, or be caught With cautelous baits and practice. Oh the Gods! Fare you well: Thou hast years upon thee, and thou art too full Of the wars surfeits, to go rove with one That's yet unbruised: bring me but out at gate. Come my sweet wife, my dearest Mother, and My Friends of Noble touch: when I am forth, Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you come: While I remain above the ground, you shall Hear from me still, and never of me ought But what is Like me formerly. Give me thy hand, come. A goodly City is this Antium City, It's I that made thy Widow's: Many and heir Of these fair Edifices before my Wars Have I herd groan, and drop: Then know me not, Least that thy Wives with Spits, and Boys with stones In puny Battle slay me. Save you sir. Direct me, if it be your will, where great Auf fidius lies: Is he in Antium? Which is his house, beseech you? Thank you sir, farewell. O World, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn, Whose double bosoms seems to wear one heart, Whose Hours, whose Bed, whose Meal and Exercise Are still together: who Twin (as 'twere) in Love, Unseparable, shall within this hour, On a dissension of a Doit, break out To bitterest Enmity: So fellest Foes, Whose Passion, and whose Plots have broke their sleep To take the one the other, by some chance, Some trick not worth and Egg, shall grow deer friends And inter-ioyne their issues. So with me, My Birthplace have I, and my loves upon This Enemy Town: I'll enter, if he slay me He does fair Justice: if he give me way, I'll do his Country Service. A goodly House: The Feast smells well: but I appear not Like a Guest. I have deserved no better entertainment, in be king Coriolanus. Away. Now the art troublesome. Let me but stand, I will not hurt your Hearth. A Gentleman. True, so I am. Follow your Function, go, and batten on cold bits. Under the Canopy. I. In that City of Kites and Crows. No, I serve not thy Master. I, 'tis and honester service, then to meddle with thy Mistress: Thou pratest, and pratest, serve with thy tren cher: Hence. If Tullus not yet thou knowest me, and seeing me, dost not think me for the man I am, necessity come mands me name my self. A name unmusical to the Volcians cares, And harsh in found to thine. Prepare thy brow to frown: knowest y u me yet? My name is Caius Martius, who hath done To thee particularly, and to all the Volces Great hurt and Mischief: thereto witness may My Surname Coriolanus. The painful Service, The extreme Dangers, and the drops of Blood Shed for my thankless Country, are requited: But with that Surname, a good memory And witness of the Malice and Displeasure Which thou shouldst bear me, only that name remains. The Cruelty and Envy of the people, Permitted by our dastard Nobles, who Have all forsook me, hath devoured the rest: And suffered me by the voice of Slaves to be Hooped out of Room. Now this extremity, Hath brought me to thy Hearth, not out of Hope (Mistake me not) to save my life: for if I had feared death, of all the Men in the World I would have voided thee. But in mere spite To be full quit of those my Banishers, Stand I before thee here: Then if thou hast A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge Thine own particular wrongs, and stop those maims Of shame seen through thy Country, speed thee straight And make my misery serve thy turn: So use it, That my revengeful Services may prove As Benefits to thee. For I will fight Against my Cankered Country, with the Spleen Of all the under Fiends. But if so be, Thou darest not this, and that to prove more Fortune's the art tired, then in a word, I also am Longer to live most weary: and present My throat to thee, and to thy Ancient Malice: Which not to cut, would show thee but a Fool, Since I have ever followed thee with hate, Drawn Tons of Blood out of thy Countries breast, And cannot live but to thy shame, unless It be to do thee service. You bless me Gods. What's the matter? Away. Wife, Mother, Child, I know not. My affairs Are Seruanted to others: Though I owe My Revenge properly, my remission lies In Volcean breasts. That we have been familiar, Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison rather Then pity: Note how much, therefore be gone. Mine ears against your suits, are stronger then Your gates against my force. Yet for I loved thee, Take this along, I writ it for thy sake, And would have sent it. Another word Menenius, I will not hear thee speak. This man Auffidius Was my beloved in Room: yet thou beholdest. We will before the walls of Room to morrow Set down our Host. My partner in this Actium, You must report to the Volcian Lords, how plainly I have born this Business. This last old man, Whom with a cracked heart I have sent to Room, Loved 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 showed sourly to him) once more offered 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 too. Fresh Embasses, and Suits, Nor from the State, nor private friends hereafter Will I lend ear to. Would? what shout is this? Shout within Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow In the same time it's made? I will not. My wife comes foremost, then the honoured mould Wherein this Trunk was framed, and in her hand The Grandchild to her blood. But out affection, All bound 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 then others: my Mother bows, As if Olympus to a Molehill should In supplication Nod: and my young Boy Hath and Aspect of intercession, which Great Nature cries, Deny not. Let the Volces Plough Room, and harrow Italy, I'll never Be such a Gosling to obey instinct: but stand As if a man were Author of himself, & knew no other kin These eyes are not the same I wore in Room. Like a dull Actor now, I have forgotten my partly, 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. Oh a kiss Long as my Exile, sweet as my Revenge! Now by the jealous Queen of Heaven, that kiss I carried from thee deer; and my true Lip Hath Virgin'd it ere since. You Gods, I pray, And the most noble Mother of the world Leave unsaluted: Sink my knee in the earth, Of thy deep duty, more impression show Then that of common Sons. What's this? your knees to me? To your Corrected Son? Then let the Pebbles on the hungry beach Fillop the Stars: Then, let the mutinous winds Strike the proud Cedars against the fiery Sun: Murdering Impossibility, to make What cannot be, slight work. The Noble Sister of Publicola ; The Moon of Room: Chaste as the Icicle That's curdied by the Frost, from purest Snow, And hangs on Dians Temple: Dear Ʋ aleria. The God of Soldiers: With the consent of supreme Jove, inform Thy thoughts with Nobleness, that thou mayest prove To shame unvulnerable, and stick in that Wars Like a great Seamark standing every flaw, And saving those that eye thee. That's my brave Boy. 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 to allay My Rages and Revenges, with your colder reasons. Auffidius, and you Volces mark, for we'll Hear nought from Room in private. Your request? Not of a woman's tenderness to be, Requires nor Child, nor woman's face to see: I have sat too long. Oh Mother, Mother! What have you done? Behold, the Heavens do open, The Gods look down, and this unnatural Scene They laugh at. O my Mother, Mother: O! You have won a happy Victory to Room. But for your Son, believe it: O believe it, Most dangerously you have with him prevailed, If not most mortal to him. But let it come: Auffidius, though I cannot make true Wars, I'll frame convenient peace. Now good Auffidius, Were you in my steed, would you have herd A Mother less? or granted less Auffidius ? 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 partly, I'll not to Room, I'll back with you, and pray you Stand to me in this cause. O Mother! Wife! I by and by; But we will drink together: And you shall bear A better witness back then 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. Hail Lords, I am returned your Soldier: No more infected with my Countries love Then 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 Room: Our spoils we have brought home Does more then counterpoise a full third partly The charges of the Actium. We have made peace With no less Honour to the Antiates Then shame to the Romans. And we here deliver Subscribed by' the Consuls, and Patricians, Together with the Seal of that Senate, what We have compounded on. Traitor? How now? Martius ? Hearest thou Mars? Would? Measureless Liar, thou hast made my heart Too great for what contains it. Boy? O Slave, Pardon me Lords, it's the first time that ever I was forced to scoul'd. Your judgments my graven Lords Must give this Cur the Lie: and his own Notion, Who wears my stripes impressed upon him, that Must bear my beating to his Grave, shall join To thrust the Lie unto him. Cut me to pieces Volces men and Lads, Stain all your edges on me. Boy, false Hound: If you have writ your Annals true, it's there, That Like and Eagle in a Dove-coat, I Flattered your Volcians in Corioles. Alone I did it, Boy. Oh that I had him, with six Auffidiusses, or more: His Tribe, to use my lawful Sword. Menenius, ever, ever. Your Hand, and yours? Ere in our own house I do shade my Head, The good Patricians must be visited, From whom I have received not only greetings, But with them, change of Honours. Know, good Mother, I had rather be their servant in my way, Then sway with them in theirs. Hah? what is that? Choler? Were I as patient as the midnight sleep, By Jove, 'twould be my mind. Shall? Oh God! but most unwise Patricians: why You graven, but wreakless Senators, have you thus Given Hidra here to choose and Officer, That with his peremptory Shall, being but The horn, and noise of the Monsters, wants not spirit To say, he'll turn your Current in a ditch, And make your Channel his? If he have power, Then vale your Ignorance: If none, awake Your dangerous Lenity: If you are Learned, Be not as common Fools; if you are not, Let them have Cushions by you. You are Plebeians, If they be Senators: and they are no less, When both your voices blended, the greatest taste Most palates theirs. They choose their Magistrate, And such a one as he, who puts his Shall, His popular Shall, against a graver Bench Then ever frowned in Greece. By Jove himself, It makes the Consuls base; and my Soul akes To know, when two Authorities are up, Neither Supreme; How soon Confusion May enter betwixt the gap of Both, and take The one by the other. Though there the people had more absolute pour I say they norisht disobedience: fed, the ruin of the State. That I'll straight do: and knowing my self again, Repair toth' Senate-house.