The Tragedy Of Coriolanus

1 Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter, at one door, Cominius
2 with the Romans; at another door, Martius, with his arm in a scarf.
3 COMINIUS.
4 If I should tell thee o’er this thy day’s work,
5 Thou’t not believe thy deeds. But I’ll report it
6 Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles;
7 Where great patricians shall attend and shrug,
8 I’ th’ end admire; where ladies shall be frighted
9 And, gladly quaked, hear more; where the dull tribunes,
10 That with the fusty plebeians hate thine honours,
11 Shall say against their hearts “We thank the gods
12 Our Rome hath such a soldier.”
13 Yet cam’st thou to a morsel of this feast,
14 Having fully dined before.
15 Enter Titus Lartius with his power, from the pursuit.
16 LARTIUS.
17 O general,
18 Here is the steed, we the caparison.
19 Hadst thou beheld—
20 MARTIUS.
21 Pray now, no more. My mother,
22 Who has a charter to extol her blood,
23 When she does praise me grieves me. I have done
24 As you have done—that’s what I can;
25 Induced as you have been—that’s for my country.
26 He that has but effected his good will
27 Hath overta’en mine act.
28 COMINIUS.
29 You shall not be
30 The grave of your deserving. Rome must know
31 The value of her own. ’Twere a concealment
32 Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement,
33 To hide your doings and to silence that
34 Which, to the spire and top of praises vouched,
35 Would seem but modest. Therefore, I beseech you—
36 In sign of what you are, not to reward
37 What you have done—before our army hear me.
38 MARTIUS.
39 I have some wounds upon me, and they smart
40 To hear themselves remembered.
41 COMINIUS.
42 Should they not,
43 Well might they fester ’gainst ingratitude
44 And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses—
45 Whereof we have ta’en good and good store—of all
46 The treasure in this field achieved and city,
47 We render you the tenth, to be ta’en forth
48 Before the common distribution
49 At your only choice.
50 MARTIUS.
51 I thank you, general,
52 But cannot make my heart consent to take
53 A bribe to pay my sword. I do refuse it;
54 And stand upon my common part with those
55 That have beheld the doing.
56 [_A long flourish. They all cry “Martius, Martius!” and cast up their
57 caps and lances. Cominius and Lartius stand bare._]
58 May these same instruments which, you profane,
59 Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall
60 I’ th’ field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be
61 Made all of false-faced soothing! When steel grows soft
62 Soft as the parasite’s silk, let him be made
63 An ovator for the wars! No more, I say.
64 For that I have not washed my nose that bled,
65 Or foiled some debile wretch—which, without note,
66 Here’s many else have done—you shout me forth
67 In acclamations hyperbolical,
68 As if I loved my little should be dieted
69 In praises sauced with lies.
70 COMINIUS.
71 Too modest are you,
72 More cruel to your good report than grateful
73 To us that give you truly. By your patience,
74 If ’gainst yourself you be incensed, we’ll put you,
75 Like one that means his proper harm, in manacles,
76 Then reason safely with you. Therefore be it known,
77 As to us to all the world, that Caius Martius
78 Wears this war’s garland, in token of the which
79 My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him,
80 With all his trim belonging. And from this time,
81 For what he did before Corioles, call him,
82 With all th’ applause and clamour of the host,
83 Caius Martius Coriolanus! Bear
84 Th’ addition nobly ever!
85 [_Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums._]
86 ALL.
87 Caius Martius Coriolanus!
88 CORIOLANUS.
89 I will go wash;
90 And when my face is fair, you shall perceive
91 Whether I blush or no. Howbeit, I thank you.
92 I mean to stride your steed and at all times
93 To undercrest your good addition
94 To th’ fairness of my power.
95 COMINIUS.
96 So, to our tent,
97 Where, ere we do repose us, we will write
98 To Rome of our success.—You, Titus Lartius,
99 Must to Corioles back. Send us to Rome
100 The best, with whom we may articulate
101 For their own good and ours.
102 LARTIUS.
103 I shall, my lord.
104 CORIOLANUS.
105 The gods begin to mock me. I, that now
106 Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg
107 Of my lord general.
108 COMINIUS.
109 Take’t, ’tis yours. What is’t?
110 CORIOLANUS.
111 I sometime lay here in Corioles
112 At a poor man’s house; he used me kindly.
113 He cried to me; I saw him prisoner;
114 But then Aufidius was within my view,
115 And wrath o’erwhelmed my pity. I request you
116 To give my poor host freedom.
117 COMINIUS.
118 O, well begged!
119 Were he the butcher of my son, he should
120 Be free as is the wind.—Deliver him, Titus.
121 LARTIUS.
122 Martius, his name?
123 CORIOLANUS.
124 By Jupiter, forgot!
125 I am weary; yea, my memory is tired.
126 Have we no wine here?
127 COMINIUS.
128 Go we to our tent.
129 The blood upon your visage dries; ’tis time
130 It should be looked to. Come.
131 [_A flourish of cornets. Exeunt._]