All language subtitles for Coriolanus 2019

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What's the matter?

You dissentious rogues.

That rubbing the poor
itch of your opinion

make yourself scabs?

He that will give good
words to thee will flatter

beneath abhorring.

He that trust to you where
he should find you lions

finds you hares,
where foxes, geese,

you are no surer, no, than is
the coil of fire upon the ice

or hailstone in the sun.

Who deserves greatness
deserves your hate.

Trust ye?

With every minute
you do change a mind

and call him noble
that was now your hate.

Him vile 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?

So you all resolved rather
to die than to famish?

Resolved, we
are accounted poor citizens,

the patricians good, what
authority surfeits on

would relieve us, if
they would yield us

but their superfluity,
while it were wholesome,

we might guess they
relieved us humanely,

but they think we are
too dear.

The leanness that afflicts
us, the object of our misery

is as a reminder to
them of their abundance.

Our sufferance is
a gain to them.

Let us revenge this with our
pikes ere we become rakes.

For the gods know I speak
this in hunger for bread,

not in thirst for revenge.

Would you proceed
especially against Caius Marcius?

Against him first,

he's a very dog to
the common people.

Consider you what services
he has done for his country?

Very well, and
could be content to give him

good report for't, but
that he pays himself...

Nay, but speak
not maliciously.

For being proud,
I saying unto you,

what he has done famously,
he did it to that end.

Those soft conscienced men
could be content to say

he did it for his country,
, he did it

to please his mother and to
be partly proud, which he is

even to the altitude
of his virtue!

What he cannot
help in his nature,

you account a vice in him.

You must in no way
say he is covetous.

He hath faults with surplus
to tire in repetition.

Our business is not
unknown to the Senate.

They have had inkling
this fortnight

what we intend to do which
now will show 'em in deeds.

They say poor suitors
have strong breaths.

They shall know we
have strong arms too.

Why masters, my good friends,
mine honest neighbors.

Why go you with bats and clubs,
will you undo yourselves?

We cannot, sir, we
are undone already.

I tell you friends,
most charitable care

have the patricians of
you, for the dearth,

the gods, not the
patricians make it

and your knees to them,
not arms must help,

alack, you are transported
by calamity thither

where more attends you
and you slander the helms

of the state who care
for you like fathers.

When you curse them as enemies.
Care for us! True indeed,

they ne'er cared
for us yet,

suffer us to famish while
their storehouse is crammed

with grain, if the wars
eat us not up, they will.

That's all the
love they bear us.

Either you must confess
yourselves wondrous malicious,

or be accused
of folly.

I will tell you a pretty
tale, maybe you have heard it

but since it serves my
purpose I will venture

to stale it
a little more.

Well, I'll hear it, sir.
You must not think

to fob off our
disgrace with a tale.

There was a time when
all the body's members

rebelled against the
belly, thus accused it.

That only like a gulf it
did remain in the midst

o' the body, idle and
unactive, still cupboarding

the food, never bearing
like labor with the rest,

while the other instruments
did see and hear,

devise, instruct, walk, feel
and mutually participate,

did minister unto the
appetite and affection common

of the whole body.

And so the belly
answered,

Well, sir, what
answer made the belly?

Sir, I will tell you
with a kind of smile

for look you, I may make the
belly smile as well as speak.

Your belly's answer? What?

Sir, I will tell you if you'll bestow
a small What could the belly answer?

of what you have little
patience a while.

You're long about it.

Note me this, good friend,
your most grave belly

was deliberate, not
rash, like his accusers

and thus answered.

'True is it, my incorporate
friends, ' quoth he,

'That I receive the
general food at first

which you do live upon
and fit it is because I am

the storehouse and
shop of the whole body,

but if you do remember, I
send it through the rivers

of your blood, even to
the court, the heart,

the seat of the brain?
Aye sir.

Well, well?

Though all at once cannot
see what I do deliver out

to each, I can make my audit
up that all from me do back

receive the flour of all
and leave me but the chap,

what say you to it?
It was an answer.

How apply you this?

The senators of Rome
are this good belly

and you the mutinous members,
for examine their councils

and their cares, digest things
rightly, touching the weal

of the common, and you
shall find no public benefit

which you receive but it
proceeds or comes from them

to you and no way from
yourselves, what think you,

you the great toe
of this assembly?

I the great toe.

Why the great toe?

Well that being the
lowest, basest, poorest

of this most wise rebellion,
thou goest foremost.

What's their seeking?

Corn at their own
rates, whereof they say

the city is well stored.

Hang 'em.

They say.

They'll sit by the fire
and presume to know

what's done in the capitol,
who's like to rise,

who thrives and who declines.

They say there's grain enough.

Would the nobility
lay aside their ruth

and let me use my sword,
I'll make a quarry

with thousands of
these quartered slaves

as high as I can pick my lance.

Nay, these are almost
thoroughly persuaded,

for though abundantly
they lack discretion,

yet are they passing cowardly,

but I beseech you, what
says the other troop?

They said they were an
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 rich man only,

with these shreds, they
vented their complainings

which being answered and
a petition granted them,

they threw their cats
as they would hang them

on the horns of the moon,
shouting their emulation.

And what is granted them?

Two tribunes to defend
their vulgar wisdoms

of their own choice, Junius
Brutus and Sicinius Velutus,

'Sdeath.

The rabbles should have
first unroofed the city

ere so prevailed with me.

It will in time win upon
power and throw forth

greater themes for
insurrection's arguing.

Marcius!
This is strange.

'Tis true that you
have lately told us,

the Volsces are in arms.

They have a leader!

Tullus Aufidius that
will put you to it.

I sin in envying his nobility.

And were I anything
but what I am,

I would wish me only he.
You fought together?

Were half to half the
world by the ears

and he upon my party,
I'd revolt

to make my wars
only with him.

He is a lion that
I am proud to hunt.

Then worthy Marcius,
attend upon Cominius

to these wars.

It is your former promise.
Sir, it is.

And I am constant.

Your company to the capitol,
where I know our greatest

friends attend
us, noble Marcius.

Lead you on.
Ah, the Volsces

have much corn, take
these rats thither to gnaw

their garners, worshipful
mutineers, your valor

puts well forth,
pray, follow.

Was ever man so proud
as is this Marcius?

He has no equal.

When we were chosen
tribunes for the people...

Marked you his lip and eyes?

Nay. But his taunts.

Being moved, he will not
spare to gird the gods.

Be-mock the modest moon.

The present wars devour him.

But I do wonder his
insolence can brook

to be commanded under Cominius.

Fame, at the which he
aims in whom already

he's well graced
cannot be better held

nor more attained than by
a place below the first.

For what miscarries shall
be the general's fault,

though he performs to
the utmost of a man

and giddy censure will
then cry out of Marcius,

oh, if he had
borne the business.

And if things go well, opinion
that so sticks on Marcius

shall of his great
merits rob Cominius.

Let's hence and hear
how the dispatch is made

and in what fashion more
than his singularity

he goes upon this
present action.

Let's along.

So your opinion is, Aufidius,

that they of Rome are
entered in our councils

and know how we proceed.

Is it not yours?

What ever have been
thought on in this state

that could be brought
to bodily act ere Rome

had circumvention?
'Tis not four days gone

since I heard from thence,
these are the words.

'They have pressed a power,
but it is not known whether

for east or west.

The dearth is great,
the people mutinous

and it is rumored Cominius,

Marcius, your old
enemy, who is of Rome,

worse hated than of you, these
two lead on this preparation

whither 'tis bent, most
likely tis for you.'

Consider of it.

Our army's in the field,
we never yet made doubt

but Rome was ready to answer us.

Nor did you think it folly
to keep your great pretenses

veiled till when they
needs must show themselves

which in the hatching it
seemed appeared to Rome.

By the discovery, we shall
be shortened in our aim

which was to take in many
towns ere almost Rome

should know we were afoot.

Noble Aufidius, take
your commission.

Hie you to your bands.

Let us alone to
guard Corioles.

If they should set
down before us,

for the remove
bring your army,

but I think you'll find
they've not prepared for us.

Oh, doubt not that, I
speak from certainties.

Nay, more, some parcels of
their power are forth already

and only hitherward.

I leave your honors.

If we and Caius
Marcius chance to meet,

'tis sworn between us
we shall ever strike

til one can do no more.

Gods assist you.

And keep your honors safe.

I pray you, daughter,

sing.

Or express yourself at
a more comfortable sort.

If my son were my husband,

I should freelier
rejoice in that absence

wherein he won honor than in
the embracements of his bed

where he would show most love.

When yet he was
but tender bodied

and the only son of my womb,

when youth with comeliness
plucked all gaze his way,

when for a day of
kings and treaties,

a mother should not sell him
an hour from her beholding,

I considering how honor
would become such a person,

was pleased to let him seek
danger where he was like

to find fame.

To a cruel war I sent him
from whence he returned,

his brows bound with oak.

I tell thee daughter, I sprang
not more in joy at first hearing

he was a man-child than
now in first seeing

he had proved himself a man.

But had he died in the
business, madam, how then?

Then his good report
should have been my son.

I therein would
have found issue.

Hear me profess, sincerely,

had I a dozen sons

each in my love alike and
none less dear than thine

and my good Marcius, I'd
rather have 11 die nobly

for their country than
one voluptuously surfeit

out of action.

Madam, the lady Valeria
is come to visit you.

Beseech you, give me
leave to retire myself

Indeed you shall not.

Tell Valeria we are
fit to bid her welcome.

Methinks I hear hither
your husband's drum.

See him pluck Aufidius
down by the hair.

Methinks I see him stamp
thus and call thus,

come on, you cowards,
you were got in fear

though you were born in Rome.

His bloody brow.

His bloody brow!

With his gloved hand then
wiping forth he goes.

Like to a harvest man
that's tasked to mow

or all or lose his hire.

Oh, Jupiter, no blood!

Away, you fool!

It more becomes a man
than guilt his trophy.

Heavens bless my Lord
from fell Aufidius.

He'll beat Aufidius'
head below his knee

and tread upon his neck.

My ladies both!

Good day to you.

Sweet madam!

I am glad to see
your ladyship.

How do you both?

You are manifest housekeepers,
what are you sewing here?

Ah, a fine spot, in good faith.

How does your little son?

I thank your ladyship,
well, good madam.

He'd rather see the
swords and hear a drum

than look upon his
school-master.

On my word, the father's son,

I'll swear 'tis a
very pretty boy.

O' my troth, I looked
upon him Wednesday

half an hour together, such
a confirmed countenance.

I saw him run after
a gilded butterfly

and when he caught it,
he let it go again

and after it again and
over and over he falls

and up again catched it again.

Whether his fall enraged
him or how it 'twas,

he did so set his
teeth and tear it, oof!

I warranted how he mammocked it!

One on's father's moods.

Indeed, la, tis a noble child.

A crack, madam.

Come, lay aside your
stitchery, I must have you play

the idle housewife
with me this afternoon.

No, good madam, I
will not out of doors.

Not out of doors!
- She shall, she shall!

Indeed no, by your patience,
I'll not over the threshold

till my Lord return
from the wars.

Fa, you confine yourself
most unreasonably.

- I cannot go thither.

You would be another Penelope?

Yet they say all the yarn she
spun in Ulysses's absence

did but fill Ithaca
full of moths.

Come, you should go with us.

No!

Pardon me, indeed
I will not forth.

In truth, la, go with me and
I'll tell you excellent news

of your husband.

Oh, good madam,
there can be none yet.

Verily, I do not jest with you.

There came news
from him last night.

Indeed, madam?
In earnest, it's true.

I heard a Senator speak it.

Thus it is, the Volsces
have an army forth

against whom Cominius
the general is gone

and your Lord is set
down before their city,

Corioles, they nothing
doubt prevailing

and to make it brief wars,
this is true on mine honor

and so I pray, go with us.

Give me excuse, good
madam, I will obey you

in everything hereafter.

Well, let her alone,
lady, as she is now,

she will but disease
our better mirth.

Come, good sweet lady.

Prithee, Virgilia, turn
thy solemness out of doors

and go along with us.

No.

At a word, madam,
indeed, I must not.

Shh.

I wish you much mirth.

Fare thee well, then.

I'll fight
with none but thee

for I do hate thee worse
than a promise breaker.

We hate alike.

Not Afric owns a serpent
I abhor more than thy fame

and envy, fix thy foot.

If I should tell thee
o'er this thy day's work,

thould'st not believe thy deeds,

but I'll report it,

where senators shall
mingle tears with smiles,

where great patricians
shall attend and shrug,

in the end admire, off.

When ladies shall be frighted
and gladly quaked, hear more.

Where the dull tribunes that
with the fusty plebeians

hate thine honors shall
say against their hearts

we thank the gods Rome
hath such a soldier.

Pray now, no more!

My mother, who has a
charter to extol her blood,

when she dost 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.

You shall not be the
grave of your deserving.

Rome must know the
value of her own.

I have some wounds
upon me and they smart

to hear themselves remembered.

Well, should they not,
well might they fester

'gainst ingratitude and
tent themselves with death.

Of all the treasure in the
field achieved and city,

we render you a tenth.

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 part

with those that have
beheld the doing.

No more, I say, for that I have
not washed my nose that bled

or foiled some feeble
wretch which without note

here's many else have done.

You shout me forth
in acclamations,

hyperbolical, as if I loved
my little should be dieted

in praises sauced with lies.

Too modest are you.

Therefore be it known,
as to us to all the world

that Caius Marcus wears
this war's garland

and from this time for
what he did before and in

Corioles, call him, with
all the applause and clamor

of the host, Caius
Marcus Coriolanus!

Caius Marcus Coriolanus!

Caius Marcus Coriolanus!
Caius Marcus Coriolanus!

I will go wash, and
when my face is fair,

you shall perceive
whether I blush or no.

Howbeit, I thank you.

The gods begin to mock me,

sir,

I that now refused
most princely gifts

am bound to beg of
my Lord general.

Take it, tis yours, what is't?

I sometimes lay here in
Coriolis at a poor man's house.

He used me kindly, he cried
to me, I saw him prisoner

but then Aufidius
was within my view

and wrath overwhelmed my pity.

I request that you give
my poor host freedom.

Well begged, were he
the butcher of my son,

he should be as free as
is the wind, his name?

By Jupiter, forgot.

Easy.

I am weary, yea,
my memory is tired.

Easy, easy.

Hey, hey.

The blood upon your
visage dries, huh?

'Tis time it should
be looked to, come.

Easy, easy, easy, easy.

The town is ta'en.

'Twill be delivered
back on good condition.

Condition!

I would I were a Roman, for
I cannot, being a Volscian,

be that I am, condition!

What good condition
can a treaty find

I' the part that is at mercy?

Five times, Marcius, I
have fought with thee,

so often has thou beat me
and wouldst do so again,

I think should we encounter
as often as we eat.

By the elements,

if ere again I meet
him beard to beard,

he's mine or I am his.

Mine emulation hath not
that honor in't it had

for where I thought to
crush him in an equal force,

true sword to sword,

I'll potch at him some way or
wrath or craft may get him.

He's the devil.
Bolder.

Though not so subtle.

My valor's poisoned with only
suffering stained by him.

Where ere I meet him, were
it at home, upon my brother's

guard, even there against
the hospitable canon,

will I wash my fierce
head in his heart.

Go you to the city and
learn how 'tis held.

And what they are that
must be hostages for Rome.

If you're going to
Washington to meet...

...huge win in the
governor's race, at least 13...

Something's bothering you,

and I thought it
must be Blake...

Well, the augurer
tells me

we shall have
news tonight.

Good or bad?

Well, not according to
the prayers of the people

for they love not Marcius.

Nature teaches beasts
to know their friends.

Pray you, who does
the wolf love?

The lamb.

Aye, to devour him, as the
hungry plebeians would

the noble Marcius.

Oh, he's a lamb indeed, that
baes like a bear.

He's a bear indeed
that lives like a lamb.

Tell me, one thing
that I shall ask you.

Well, sir?
- Well, sir?

In what enormity
is Marcius poor in

that you two have
not in abundance?

He's poor in no one fault
but stored with all.

Especially in pride.

And topping all
others in boasting.

Well, this is strange now.

Do you two know how you are
censured here in the city?

I mean, of us of the
right hand file, do you?

Why, how are we censured?
- How are we censured?

Because you talk of
pride now.

Will you not be angry?

Well, sir, well well well.

You blame Marcius
for being proud.

We do it not alone, sir.

I know, you can do
very little alone.

And your
abilities are too infant like

for doing much alone,

oh, you talk of pride, oh
that you could turn your eyes

towards the napes of your
neck and make but an interior

survey of your good
selves, oh, that you could.

What then, sir?

Why, then, you should discover
a brace of unmeriting,

proud, violent, testy
magistrates, alias fools,

as any in Rome.

Menenius, you are
known well enough too.

As I am known to be
a humorous patrician.

One that likes a cup of
hot wine without a drop

of allaying water in it,
one that converses more

with the buttock of the
night than the forehead

of the morning, what I think
I utter and I spend my malice

in my breath, and
though I must be content

to bear with those that
say you are reverend grave

gentlemen, yet they lie deadly
that tell you have good faces.

Oh come, sir, come, we
know you well enough.

You know neither me,
yourselves, nor anything.

Oh, come, come, you
are well known to be

a perfect giber for the table
than a necessary bencher

in the capitol.

Oh, you are a pair of
strange ones, yet you must

be saying Marcius is proud
when a cheap estimation

is worth all your
predecessors since Deucalion,

the best of them,
hereditary hangmans,

good e'en to your worships,
more of your conversation

would infect my brain
being the herdsmen

of the beastly plebeians.

I will be bold to
take my leave of you.

Honorable Menenius, my
boy Marcius approaches,

for the love of Juno, let's go!

Ha, Marcius coming home?

Aye, worthy Menenius and with
most prosperous approbation.

Take my cap, Jupiter,
and I thank you,

oh, Marcius coming home.

Nay, 'tis true.

I will make my very
house reel tonight.

Is he wounded?

He was wont to
come home wounded.

Oh, no, no, no.

Oh, he is wounded, I
thank the gods for it.

So do I too, but
be not too much,

brings a victory in his
pocket, the wounds become him.

On his brows, Menenius, he
comes the third time home

with the oaken garland.

Has he disciplined
Aufidius soundly?

They fought together,
but Aufidius got off.

Is the Senate
possessed of this?

Good ladies, let's
go, yes, yes, yes,

the Senate has letters from
the general wherein he gives

my son the whole
name of the war.

He hath in this action outdone
his former deeds doubly.

In truth, there's wondrous
things spoke of him.

Ay Wondrous, I warrant
you, and not without

his true purchasing.

The gods grant them true!

True!

True, I'll be sworn they are
true, where is he wounded?

In the shoulder
of the left arm.

There will be large
cicatrices to show the people

when he shall stand
for his place!

He received in the
repulse of Tarquin

seven hurts I' the body.

Well, there's one in the
neck, two in the thigh,

there's nine that I know of.

He had before this last
expedition 25 wounds upon him.

And now there's 27 and every
gash was an enemy's grave.

God save you, good worships,
Marcius is coming home.

He has more cause to
be proud.

These are the ushers of Marcius.

Before him he carries noise
and behind him he leaves tears,

death, that dark spirit,
its nervy arm doth lie

which being advanced,
declines and then men die.

No more of this,
it does offend my heart,

pray thou, no more!

Look sir, your mother.

Oh, you have, I know
petitioned all the gods

for my prosperity.

My gentle Marcius, worthy
Caius, and thy deed

achieving honor newly
named, what is it?

Coriolanus.

Coriolanus must
I call thee!

But oh, thy wife!

My gracious silence, hail.

Wouldst thou have laughed
had I come coffin'd home,

that weeps to see me triumph?

Aye, my dear, such eyes
the widows in Corioles wear

and mothers that lack sons.

Now the gods crown
thee and live you yet.

Oh, my sweet lady, pardon.

I know not where to turn!

Oh, welcome home!

And welcome General

and you're welcome all!

A hundred thousand welcomes, I
could weep and I could laugh,

I am light and heavy but
well, we have some old

crab trees here at home
that will not be grafted

to your relish, but
welcome, warriors.

We call a nettle
but a nettle

and the faults of
fools but folly.

Ever right,
Menenius, ever right.

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 honors.

On to the Capitol!

I have lived to see
inherited my very wishes

and the buildings of my fancy.

Only there's one thing
wanting which I doubt not

but our Rome will
cast upon thee.

Know, good mother, I had rather
be their servant in my way

than sway with them in theirs.

All tongues speak of him.

And the bleared sights
are spectacled to see him.

Your prattling nurse into
a rapture lets her baby cry

while she chats him.

The kitchen malkin pins
her richest lockram

'bout her reechy neck,
clambering the walls to eye him.

All agreeing in
earnestness to see him.

Such a pother, as if
that whosoever God

who leads him were slyly
crept into his human power

and gave him graceful postures.

On the sudden, I
warrant him consul.

Then our office may
during his power go sleep.

He cannot temperately
transport his honors

from where he should
begin and end but will

lose those he hath won.

In that there's comfort.
- Doubt not.

I heard him swear, were
he to stand for consul,

never would he appear in
the marketplace nor showing

as the manner is, his
wounds to the people.

Beg their stinking breaths.
- Tis right.

- It was his word.
- I wish no better

than have him hold that purpose
and to put it in execution.

Tis most like he will.

It shall be to him then
as our good wills

a sure destruction.

So.

It must fall out to him or
our authority for an end.

We must suggest the
people what kind of hatred

he still hath held him, that
to his power he would have

made them mules,
silenced their pleaders

and dispropertied
their freedoms.

This as you say

suggested at some time

when his soaring insolence
shall touch the people,

which time shall not
want if he be put upon it

and that's as easy as
to set dogs on sheep

will be as fire to
kindle their dry stubble

and their blaze shall
darken him forever.

What's the matter?

You are sent for to the capitol.

'Tis thought that
Marcius shall be consul.

Come, come,

they are almost here.

How many stand for consulship?

Three, they say,

but 'tis thought of everyone
Coriolanus will carry it.

That's a brave fellow,
but he's vengeance proud

and loves not the common people.

Faith.

There had been many great men
that had flattered the people

who ne'er loved them.

And there be many
that they have loved,

they know not wherefore
so that if they love,

they know not why.

They hate upon no
better a ground.

Therefore, for Coriolanus
neither to care

whether they love
or hate him,

manifest the true knowledge
he has in their disposition

and out of his
noble carelessness

lets them
plainly see it.

But he seeks their hate
with a greater devotion

than they can
render it him.

Now to seem to affect the
malice and displeasure

of the people is as bad
as that which he dislikes,

to flatter them
for their love.

He hath deserved
worthily of his country,

to report otherwise
were a malice.

No more of him,
he is a worthy man.

Make way,
they are coming.

No.

Having determined
of the Volsces,

it remains as the main point
in this our after-meeting

to gratify his noble
services that are thus stood

for our country, therefore,
please you most reverend

and grave elders, to
desire the present consul

and last general in our
well-found successes

to report a little
of that worthy work

performed by Caius
Marcus Coriolanus

whom we have met here both
to thank and remember

with honors like himself.

Masters o' the people, we
do request your kindest ears

and after your loving motion
towards the common people

to yield what passes here,
speak, good Cominius.

We have hearts
inclinable to honor

and advance the theme
of our assembly.

Which the rather we
shall be blest to do

if he remember a kinder
value of the people

than he hath hereto
prized them at.

That's off, that's
off, I would you rather

to have been silent, please
you to hear Cominius speak?

Most willingly but yet my
caution was more pertinent

than the rebuke you give it.

He loves your people, but tie
him not to be their bedfellow.

Speak, worthy Cominius.

Sit, Coriolanus,
never shame to hear

what you have nobly done.

Your honor's pardon, I'd
rather have my wounds

to heal again than hear
say how I got them.

Sir, I hope my words
disbenched you not.

No sir, yet oft when
blows have made me stay,

I fled from words, you flatter
not, therefore hurt not,

but for your people, I
love them as they weigh.

Pray you sit down.
- I'd rather have one

scratch my head in the sun
when the alarum were struck

than idly sit to hear
my nothings monster'd.

Proceed, Cominius.

Whoo.

I shall lack voice.

The deeds of Coriolanus
should not be uttered feebly.

It is held that valor
is the chiefest virtue

and most dignifies the haver.

If it be, the man I speak
of cannot in the world

be singly counterpoised.

At 16 years, he fought
beyond the marks of others.

In that day's feat when
he might act the woman

in the scene, he proved
best man in the field.

Seriously?

His pupil age man entered thus.

He waxed like a sea,

and in the brunt of
seventeen battles since,

he lurched all swords
of the garland.

For this last, before
and in Corioles,

let me say, well,

I cannot speak him home.

He stopped the fliers
and by his rare example

made the coward turn
terror into sport

as weeds before a
vessel under sail,

so men obeyed and
fell below his stem.

From face to foot he
was a thing of blood.

Whose every motion was
timed with dying cries,

alone, he entered the
mortal gate of the city

and with a sudden
reinforcement struck Corioles

like a planet and til we called
both city and field ours

he never stood to ease
his breath with panting.

Worthy man!

He cannot but with
measure fit the honors

which we devise him.

Our spoils he kicked at,
looked upon things precious

as if they were the
common muck of the world.

He covets less than
misery itself would give.

Rewards his deeds with
doing them and is content

to spend the time to end it.

The Senate, Coriolanus,

are well pleased
to name thee consul!

I do beseech you, let
me overleap this custom.

Oh, sir, you are not
right, have you not known

the worthiest men
have done it.

What must I say?

I pray, sir, plague upon
it, I cannot bring my tongue

to such a pace.

Look, sir, my wounds,

I got them in my
country's service

when some certain of
your brethren roared

and ran from the noise
of her own drums.

Oh me, the gods, you
must not speak of that.

You must desire them
to think upon you.

Think upon me?

Hang 'em, I would
they would forget me.

You'll mar all, I'll
leave you, I pray you,

speak with them, I pray
you in wholesome manner.

Bid them wash their faces
and keep their teeth clean.

You know, sir, the cause
of my standing here.

I do, sir.

Tell me what hath
brought you to it.

My own deserving.

Your own deserving?

Aye, but not my own desire.

How not your own desire?

No sir, twas never
my desire yet

to trouble the...
poor with begging.

You must think if I
give you anything,

I hope to gain by you.

Well, then, I pray your
price o' the consulship?

The price is to ask it kindly.

Kindly?
Mmhmm.

I pray, sir,
let me have it.

I have wounds to show you what
shall be yours in private,

your good
voice, sir, what say you?

You shall have it,
worthy sir.

A match. There's in all
two worthy voices begged.

I have your alms, adieu.

But this is something odd.

Better it is to die,

better to starve

than crave the hire which
first we do deserve.

Pray you now, if it may stand
with the tune of your voice,

that I may be consul.

You have deserved
nobly of your country

and you have not
deserved nobly.

Your enigma?

You have been a
scourge to her enemies,

a rod to her friends,
but you have not indeed

loved the common people.

You should account
me the more virtuous

that I have not been
common in my love,

therefore beseech
you, I may be consul.

Well, we hope to
find you our friend

and therefore give you
our voices heartily.

You have many scars
for your country.

I will not seal your
knowledge in showing them.

I will make much
of your voices

and so trouble
you no further.

Gods give you joy
sir, heartily.

Most sweet voices!

Why in this wolfish garb
should I stand here to beg

of Hob and Dick that do
appear their needless vouches?

Custom calls me to it.

And what custom wills in
all things should we do it.

The one part suffered,
the other will I do.

Your voices.

For your voices,
I have fought.

For your voices
I have fought.

Watched for your voices.
- Watched for your voices.

For your voices bear
of wounds, two dozen odd.

Two dozen odd.

Battles thrice, six have
I seen and heard of.

Have I seen and heard of.

For your voices, I
have done many things.

I have done many things.

Some less, some more,

your voices, indeed,

I would be consul.

I would be consul.

Therefore,
let him be consul.

The gods give you joy
and help to make you

good friend to the people,

amen, God save thee,
noble consul.

Worthy voices.

How now, my masters,
have you chose this man?

We pray the gods
he may deserve your love.

He should have
showed you his marks of merit,

Could you not have told him as you were
lessened? wounds received for's country.

When he had no power, he was but a
petty servant Why, so he did, I am sure.

to the state,

he was your enemy. Ever spake against your liberties.
Why either were you ignorant to see it? Or seeing it,

If he should still malignantly remain Fast foe to the plebeii,
of such childish friendliness to yield your voices?

Your voices might be curses to yourself?
Thus to have said, as you were fore advised,

Did you deceive, he did solicit you in pre contempt
had touched his spirit and tried his inclination,

so putting him to rage, You should have ta'en the advantage of his
choler when he did need your loves. And do you think that this

And pass'd him unelected
contempt should not be bruising

to you now that he
have power to crush?

He's not confirmed.

We may deny him yet.

Get you hence instantly
and tell these friends

Let them assemble, And on a safer judgment that
they have chose a consul that will from them

all revoke your ignorant election; take all
revoke, make them no more voice than dogs

enforce his pride, And his old hate unto
you. that are as often beat for barking

And his old hate unto you.
as therefore kept to do so.

No, lay the fault on
us, your tribunes.

Say, you chose him more after our commandment
That we labored no impediment between

than as guided by your own true affections.
but that you must cast your election on him.

Ay, spare us not.
Lay the fault on us.

That he's your fixed enemy, and revoke your
ignorant election. Say we read lectures to you.

Say you ne'er had done
it, harp on that still,

but by our putting
on and presently

when you have drawn your
number repair to the capitol.

Let them go on, if
as his nature is,

he fall in rage
with their refusal,

both observe and answer
the vantage of his anger.

Uh-huh.

Tullus Aufidius then
hath made new head?

So the Volsces stand but
as at first ready when time

shall prompt them to
make road upon us again.

Ah, they are worn, Lord
consul, so we shall hardly

in our ages see their
banners wave again.

Shh, saw you Aufidius?

Spoke he of me?

How?

What?

At Antium lives he,

at Antium!

I wish I had cause
to seek him there,

to oppose his hatred
fully, welcome home.

Pass no further.

Ha, what is that?

It will be dangerous
to go on, no further.

What makes this change?

The matter?

Hath he not passed the
noble and the common?

Cominius, no.

Have I had children's voices?

Tribunes, give way, he
shall to the marketplace.

The people are
incensed against him.

Stop, or all will fall in broil.

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?

Be calm, be calm.

It is a purposed thing
and it grows by plot

to curb the will
of the nobility.

Suffer it and live with
such as cannot rule

nor ever will be ruled.

Call it not a plot.

The people cry you mock them.

And of late, when corn
was given them gratis,

you repined, scandaled the
suppliants for the people,

called them time pleasers,
flatterers, foes to nobleness.

Why, this was
known before.

Not to them all.

Have you informed
them sithence?

How? I inform them.

You are like to
do such business.

Not unlike, each
way to better yours.

Why then should
I be consul?

By yon clouds, let me
deserve so ill as you

and make me your
fellow tribune.

You show too much of that
for which the people stir.

If you will pass to
where you are bound,

you must inquire your
way which you are out of

with a gentler spirit or
never be so noble as a consul

nor yoke with him for tribune.

Let's be calm.
- The people are abused,

set on, this paltering
becomes not Rome,

nor has Coriolanus deserved
this so dishonored rub.

Laid falsely in the
plain way of his merit.

Tell me of corn,
this was my speech

and I will speak it again.

Not now, not now.
- Not in this heat, sir, now

Now as I live, I will,
my nobler friends,

I crave their pardons, for
the mutable rank scented many,

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 ourselves have plowed for,

sowed and scattered by
mingling them with us.

The honored number who
lack not virtue, no,

nor power but that which
they have given to beggars.

Well, no more.
- No more words,

we beseech you.
How no more?

As for my country,
I have shed my blood,

not fearing outward force,
so shall my lungs coin words

to their decay against those
measles which we disdain

should tatter us, yet sought
the very way to catch them.

You speak o' the people
as if you were a God

to punish and not a
man of their infirmity.

'Twere well we'd let
the people know it.

What, what, his temper?
Temper?

Were I as patient as
the midnight sleep,

by Jove, 'twould be my mind.

It is a mind that shall
remain a poison where it is,

not poison any further.

Shall remain?

Hear you this,
Shaitan of the minnows,

mark you his absolute shall.

Twas out of order.

Shall!

Oh good, but most
unwise patricians.

If he hath power, then
vail your ignorance.

If none, awake your
dangerous lenity.

If you are learned, be
not as common fools.

If you are not, let them
have their benches by you.

You are plebeians
if they be senators.

Shall, by Jove himself,
it makes the consuls base

and my soul aches to know
when two authorities are up,

neither supreme, how soon
confusion may enter 'twixt

the gap of both and take
the one by the other.

Well, on to the marketplace.

Whoever gave that counsel,
to give forth the corn

of the storehouse gratis...

Well, well, no more of that.

I say they nourish'd
disobedience,

fed the ruin of the state

Why shall the
people give one

that speaks thus
their voice?

Come, enough.
Enough with over measure.

No, take more, what may be
sworn by both divine and human,

seal what I end withal!

This double worship where
one part does 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.

Has said enough.

Has spoken like a traitor and
shall answer as traitors do.

Thou wretch, despite
o'erwhelm thee!

What should the people
do with these tribunes?

In a rebellion, when
what's not right,

what must be was law,
then were they chosen

in a better hour, let
what is right be said,

it must be right and throw
their power in the dust!

Manifest treason?
- This a consul? No.

Let him be apprehended!
- Go, call the people

in whose name myself attach
thee as a traitorous innovator,

a foe to the public weal,
obey, I charge thee

and follow to thine answer!
- Hence, rotten thing!

- Off, off.
- Seize him!

Here's he that would take
from you all your power.

You are at point to
lose your liberty,

Marcius would have all from you,

Marcius, whom late you
have named for consul.

Fie, fie, this is the way
to kindle, not to quench.

To unbuild the city
and to lay it all flat.

What is the city but the people?

By the consent of
all, we were elected

the people's magistrates.

But that is the way
to lay the city flat,

to bring the roof to the
foundation, and bury all.

This deserves death.
- Either let us stand

to our authority
or let us lose it.

We do here pronounce upon
the part of the people

in whose power we
were elected theirs,

Marcius is worthy
of present death.

Therefore lay hold of him,
bear him to the rock Tarpeian

and from thence into
destruction cast him!

No, I'll die here!
Lay hands upon him!

There's some among you who
have beheld me fighting.

Come, try upon yourselves
what you have seen me!

Down with that sword, get ye
to your house, be gone, away,

all will be naught else.

Nay, I prithee, noble
friend, home to thy house,

leave us to cure this cause.

Be gone, put not your worthy
rage into your tongue.

One time will owe another.

On fair ground I could
beat forty of them!

Yea, yea, yeah, I
could take up a brace

o' the best of them,
yea, the two tribunes,

but now 'tis odds
beyond arithmetic.

Be gone away.
Nay!

Come away!
I...

Oh, jeez, yeah,
come on.

His nature is too
noble for this world.

He will not flatter
Neptune for his trident

nor Jove for his
power to thunder.

His heart's his mouth,
what his breast forges,

that his tongue
must speak and ha,

being angry, forgets ever that
he heard the name of death.

Let them pull
all about mine ears,

present me death on the wheel
or at wild horses' heels,

yet will I still
be thus to them.

You do the nobler.

I muse my mother does
not approve me further.

Who was wont to call
them woollen vassals,

things created to buy
and sell with groats.

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?

Oh, sir, sir, sir.

I would have had you
put your power well on

before you had worn it out!

Let go.

Lesser had been the checkings
of your disposition

if you had not showed them
how you were disposed,

ere they lacked
power to cross you!

Let them hang.

Ay, and burn too!

Come, come, you
have been too rough,

something too rough, you
must return and mend it.

There's no remedy
unless by not so doing

our good city cleave in
the midst and perish.

Pray be counseled?

I have a heart as
little apt as yours,

but yet a brain that
leads my use of anger

to better vantage.

Well said, noble woman.

Well, what must I do?

Return to the tribunes.

Well, what then, what then?
Repent what you have spoke.

For them! I cannot
do it for the gods,

must I do it for them?

You are too absolute!

I have heard you say

honor and policy,

like unsevered friends in
the war do grow together.

Grant that and tell me in
peace what each of them

by the other lose that
they combine not there.

Tush, tush.
A good demand.

If it be honor in your wars
to seem the same you are not,

which for your best ends
you adopt your policy,

how is it less or worse
that you hold companionship

in peace with honor as in war?

Why force you this?

Because that now it lies on
you to speak to the people.

Not by your own instruction,

nor by the matter which
your heart prompts you,

but with such words that are
but rooted in your tongue,

though bastards and
syllables of no allowance

to your bosom's truth.

Now, this no more
dishonors you at all

than to take in a
town with gentle words

which else would put
you to the fortune

and the hazard of much blood.

I would dissemble with my nature

were my fortunes and my
friends at stake required.

I should do so in honor.

I am in this your wife,
your son, the senators,

the nobles, and you will
rather show our general louts

how you can frown than
spend a fawn upon 'em

for the inheritance
of their loves

and safeguard of what
that want might ruin!

Noble lady, come, go
with us, speak fair

and you may salve so not only
what is dangerous present

but the loss of what is past.

I prithee now.

My son,

go to them.

Be with them.

Thy knee bussing the
stones and say to them,

thou art their soldier
and being bred in broils

has not the soft way
which thou dost confess

were fit for thee to
use as they to claim

in asking their good loves,
but thou wilt frame thyself

forsooth hereafter theirs so far

as thou hast power and person.

This but done even
as she speaks, why,

their hearts were yours.

Prithee now, go, and be ruled.

Although I know thou hadst
rather follow thine enemy

in a fiery gulf

than flatter him in a bower.

Madam, General Cominius is here.

I have been in the marketplace,

and sir, 'tis fit you
make strong party

or defend yourself by calmness
or absence, all's in anger.

Only fair speech.
I think 'twill serve

if he can thereto
frame his spirit.

He must and will.

Prithee now.

Say you will and go about it.

Must I go show them
my unbarbed sconce?

Must I with base tongue
give my noble heart

a lie that it must bear?

Well, I will do it.

Yet were there but this
single plot to lose,

this mold of Marcius, they
to dust should grind it

and throw it against the wind.

To the marketplace.

You have now put
me to such a part

which never I shall
discharge to the life.

Come, come, we'll prompt you.

I prithee now.

Sweet son.

As thou hast said,

my praises made thee
first a soldier, so.

To have my praise
for this,

perform a part thou
hast not done before.

Well.

I must do it.

Away, my disposition and
possess me some harlot spirit.

My throat of war be turned
which quired with my drum

into a pipe small as a
eunuch, a beggar's tongue

make motion through my
lips and my arm'd knees

who bowed but in my
stirrups, bend like his

that has received an alms?

I will not do it, lest that
I cease to honor my own truth

and by my body's
action teach my mind

a most inherent baseness.

At thy choice, then!

To beg of thee, it is my more
dishonor than thou of them!

Come all to ruin!

Let thy mother
rather feel thy pride

than fear thy
dangerous stoutness!

Do as thou list, thy
valiantness was mine,

thou suckedst it from me!

But oh, thy pride, thyself!

Pray be content, mother, I
am going to the marketplace.

Chide me no more.

I'll mountebank their loves,

cog their hearts from them

and come back beloved of
all the trades in Rome.

Look, I am going.

Commend me to my wife,
I'll return consul

or never trust what my
tongue can do in the way

of flattery further.

DO - YOUR - WILL!

All right, away, now the
tribunes do attend you.

Now arm yourself
to answer mildly

for they are prepared
with accusations

as I hear, more strong
than are upon you yet.

The word is...

mildly?

Pray you, let us go, let
them accuse me by invention.

I will answer in mine honor.

Aye, but mildly.

Mildly be it then!

Mildly!

What, will he come?
He's coming.

How accompanied?
With old Menenius

and those senators that
always favored him.

Assemble presently
the people hither

and when they hear me
say it shall be so,

be it either for death,
for fine or banishment,

then let them if I say
fine, cry "Fine.'

If death, cry 'death.'

I shall inform them.
And when such time

they have begun to cry,
let them not cease

but with a din confused
enforce the present execution

of what we chance to sentence.

Very well.
Go about it.

Put him to anger straight.

Being once chafed, he
cannot be reigned again

to temperance, then he
speaks what's in his heart

and that is there which looks
with us to break his neck.

Well, here he comes.

Calmly,
I do beseech you.

The honored guards
keep Rome in safety.

And the chairs of justice
supplied with worthy men.

Plant love amongst.

Throng our large temples
with shows of peace

and not our streets with war.

A noble wish.

Draw near, ye people!

List to your tribunes.
Audience, peace, I say!

First, hear me speak.

Peace ho!

Well?

Say.

Shall I be charged no
further than this present?

Must all determine here?

I do demand if you submit
you to the people's voices,

allow their officers,
and are content to suffer

lawful censure for such faults
as shall be proved upon you.

I am content.

No, citizens, he
says he is content.

The warlike service
he has done consider,

think of all the
wounds his body bears

which are like graves
of the holy churchyard.

Scratches with briars,
scars to move laughter only.

Consider further that
when he speaks not

like a citizen, you
find him like a soldier.

Do not take his rougher accents
for malicious sounds but

as I say, such as
becomes a soldier.

Well, well, no more.

What is the matter?

That being passed for
consul with full voice,

I am so dishonored that the
very hour you take it off again?

Answer to us.

Say then, tis true, I ought so.

We charge you

that you have contrived
to take from Rome

all seasoned office

and to wind yourself
into a power tyrannical

for which you are

a traitor to the people.

Traitor, how now?

Temperately, your promise!

The fires in the lowest
hell fold-in the people!

Call me their traitor?

Thou injurious tribune,
if within thine eyes

sat twenty thousand deaths,

in thy hand, clutch
so many millions,

in thy lying tongues,
both numbers, I would say,

thou liest unto thee
with a voice as free

as I do pray the gods.

Mark you this, people!

To the rocks!

Peace, peace,

we need not put new
matter to his charge,

what you have seen him do

and heard him speak,
beating your officers,

cursing yourselves,
opposing laws with strokes

and here defying those whose
great power must try him,

even this, so criminal
and in such capital kind

deserves the extremest.
- Death!

But since he hath
served well for Rome...

What do you prate of service?

I talk of that that know it.

You? Is this the promise you
made your mother? No, I pray you.

I know no further, let
them pronounce my exile,

pent to linger but
with a grain a day,

I would not buy their mercy
at the price of one fair word.

Nor cheque my courage
for what they can give.

In the name of the people
and in the power of us,

the tribunes, we even
from this instant

banish him our city, nevermore
to enter our Rome gates

in the people's name, I say,

it shall be so.

- It shall be so.
- It shall be so!

Hear me, my masters
and my common friends...

He's sentenced, no more hearing!

Now now now, let me speak.

I have been consul
and can show for Rome

her enemy's marks upon me.

I do love my country's
good with a respect

more holy, more tender, more
profound than mine own life,

then if I would, speak that.

We know your drift, speak what!

There is no more to be
said but he is banished.

As enemy to the people and
his country, it shall be so.

It shall be so!

You common cry of curs!

Whose breath I hate as
reek of the rotten fens,

whose love I prize as the dead
carcasses 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 power still to
banish your defenders

til at length your ignorance
which finds not 'til it feels

delivers 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 extremity
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.

You used to load
me with precepts

that would make invincible
the heart that conned them.

Oh
heavens, oh heavens!

Nay, prithee woman.

Now the red pestilence
strike all trades in Rome,

and occupations perish!

What, what, what!

I shall be loved
when I am lacked.

Nay, mother, resume that spirit,
when you are wont to say,

had you been the
wife of Hercules,

six of his labors
you'd have done,

and saved your
husband so much sweat.

Cominius,
droop not, adieu.

Thou old and
true Menenius,

thy tears are salter
than a younger man's,

and venomous
to thine eyes.

My sometime general,
I have seen thee stem,

and thou hast oft beheld
heart-hardening spectacles.

Tell these sad women, 'tis fond
to wail inevitable strokes,

as 'tis to laugh at 'em.

My mother, you wot
well my hazards

still have been
your solace.

Your son will or
exceed the common

or be caught with cautelous
baits and practice.

My first son,
whither wilt thou go?

Take good Cominius
with thee awhile.

Determine on some course.

More than a wild
exposture to each chance

that starts the way before thee.

I'll follow thee a month,

devise with thee
where thou shalt rest,

that thou mayst hear
of us and we of thee.

Oh, the gods!

Come, my sweet wife,
my dearest mother,

and friends
of noble touch.

When I am forth, bid
me farewell, and smile.

While I remain above the ground,
you shall hear from me still,

and never of me aught but
what is like me formerly.

That's worthily as
any ear can hear.

Come, let's not weep.

If I could shake off
but one seven years

from these old arms and legs,
I'd with thee every foot.

Give me thy hand.

Come.

A goodly city is this Antium.

City, 'tis I that
made thy widows.

Many an heir of these fair
edifices 'fore my wars

have I heard groan and drop.

Then know me not, lest
that thy wives with spits

and boys with stones
in puny battle slay me.

O world, thy slippery turns!

Friends now fast sworn,

whose double bosoms
seem to wear one heart,

who twin, as 'twere
in love unseparable,

shall within this hour,
on dissension of a doit,

break out to bitterest enmity.

So, fellest foes,

whose passions and whose plots

have broke their sleep,
to take the one the other,

by some chance, some
trick not worth an egg,

shall grow dear friends
and interjoin their issue.

So with me, my
birthplace hate I,

and my love's 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.

Now we have
shown our power.

Let us seem humbler
after it is done

than when it
was a-doing.

Here comes his mother.

Let's not meet her.
- Why?

They say she's mad.

They have ta'en
note of us, keep on your way.

Oh, you're well met.

The hoarded plague of the
gods requite your loves.

Peace, peace.

Be not so loud.

If that I could for
weeping, you should hear.

Nay, and you shall hear some.

Will you be gone?

You shall stay too!

I would I had the power
to say so to my husband.

Are you mankind?

Aye, fool, is that a shame?

Note but this fool.

Was not a man my father?

Hadst thou foxship to banish him

that struck more blows for Rome
than thou hast spoken words?

Oh blessed heavens!

More noble blows than
ever thou wise words,

and for Rome's good!

I tell thee what, yet go.

Nay, but thou
shalt stay too.

I would my son were in Arabia,
and thy tribe before him,

his good sword in his hand.

What then?

What then, he'ld make
an end to thy posterity.

Bastards and all!

Good man, the wounds that he
does bear for Rome.

Come, come, peace.

I would he had continued
to his country as he began,

and not unknit himself
the noble knot he made.

I would he had.

I would he had?

'Twas you incensed
the rabble.

Cats, that can judge
as fitly of his worth

as I can of
those mysteries

which heaven will not
have earth to know!

Pray, let us go.

Now, pray, sir, get you gone,
you have done a brave deed.

Ere you go, hear this,

as far as doth the capitol

exceed the meanest
house in Rome,

so far my son,

this lady's husband here,
this, do you see?

Whom you have banished,
does exceed you all!

Well, well,
we'll leave you.

Why stay we to be baited
with one who wants her wits?

Take my prayers with you.

I would the gods had
nothing else to do

but to confirm my curses.

Could I meet 'em
but once a day,

it would unclog my heart
of what lies heavy to it.

You have told them home,

and, by my troth,
you have good cause.

Sup you with me?

Anger's my meat!

I sup upon myself, and so
shall starve with feeding.

Where is this fellow?

Whence comest thou?

What wouldst thou?

Thy name?

Why speaks not, speak
man, what's thy name?

If Tullus,
not yet thou knowest me,

and seeing me, dost not
think me for the man I am,

necessity commands
me name myself.

What is thy name?

A name unmusical
to the Volscian ears,

and harsh in
sound to thine.

Say, what's thy name?

Thou hast a
grim appearance,

and thy face bears
a command in't.

Though thy tackle's torn,
thou show'st a noble vessel.

What's thy name?

Prepare thy
brow to frown.

Know'st thou me yet?

I know thee not.
Thy name?

My name is
Caius Marcius.

Who hath done to
thee particularly

and all the Volsces
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, 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 voices of slaves

to be whooped out of Rome.

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
fortunes thou art tired,

then in a word, I also am
longer to live most weary,

and do 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 country's breast,

and cannot live
but to thy shame,

unless it be to do thee service.

Oh Marcius,

Marcius.

Each word that thou hast spoke

hath weeded from my heart
a root of ancient envy.

If Jupiter should from yoned
cloud speak divine things,

and say 'tis true,

I'd not believe them
more than thee,

all noble Marcius.

Let me twine mine
arms about that body,

where against my grained ash,
an hundred times hath broke

and scarred the moon
with splinters.

Here I clip the
anvil of my sword,

and do contest as hotly
and as nobly with thy love

as ever in ambitious
strength I did contend

against thy valor.

Know thou first, I loved
the maid I married.

Never man sighed truer breath,

but that I see thee here,

thou noble thing,

more dances my rapt heart

than when I first
my wedded mistress

saw bestride my threshold.

Why, thou Mars.

I tell thee, we have
a power on foot,

and I had a purpose once more

to hew thy target from thy
brawn, or lose mine arm for it.

Thou hast beat me out
twelve several times,

and I have nightly since
dreamt of encounters

'twixt thyself and me.

We have been down
together in my sleep,

unbuckling helms, fisting
each other's throats,

and waked, half
dead with nothing.

Worthy Marcius, had we no
other quarrel else to Rome,

but that thou art
thence banished,

we would muster all
from twelve to seventy,

and pouring war into the
bowels of ungrateful Rome,

like a bold flood o'er bear it.

You bless me, gods!

Therefore,
most absolute sirrah,

if thou wilt have the
leading of thine own revenge,

take the one half of my
commissions, but come in.

Let me commend
thee first to those

that shall say yea
to thy desires.

A thousand welcomes!

And more a friend
than e'er an enemy.

Yet, Marcius,

that was much.

Your hand.

Most welcome.

We hear not of him,

neither need
we fear him.

Our remedies are tame.

The present peace and
quietness of the people,

which before were in wild hurry,

here do we make his friends
blush that the world goes well.

Who rather had dissentious
numbers pestering streets

than see our tradesmen
working in their shops

and going about their
functions friendly.

We stood to it
in good time.

Is this Menenius?

'Tis he, 'tis he, oh he has
grown most kind of late.

Hail, sir.

Hail to you both.

Your Coriolanus is
not much missed,

but with his friends.

The commonwealth doth
stand, and so would do,

were he more angry at it.

Yes, all's well.

Might have been much better,
if he could have temporized.

Where is he, hear you?

Oh, I hear nothing.

His mother and his wife
hear nothing from him.

This is a happier
and more comely time.

Caius Marcius was a
worthy officer in the war

but insolent,
overcome with pride,

ambitious past all
thinking, self-loving.

And affecting one sole
throne, without assistance.

I think not so.

We should by this, to
all our lamentation,

if he had gone forth
consul, found it so.

The gods have
well prevented it,

and Rome sits safe
and still without him.

There is a man,
whom we have put in prison.

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 'em.

'Tis Aufidius, who hearing
of our Marcius' banishment,

thrusts forth his horn
again into the world.

Come, what talk you of Marcius?

Go see this
rumorer whipped.

It cannot be The Volsces
dare break with us.

Cannot be?

We have record that
very well it can,

and three examples of the
like have been within my age.

Tell not me, I know
this cannot be.

Not possible.

The nobles
in great earnestness

are going all to
the senate-house.

The report is
seconded, and more,

more fearful, is delivered.

What more fearful?

It is spoke
freely out of many mouths

that Marcius, joined
with Aufidius,

leads a power 'gainst Rome.

This is most likely.

Raised only, that
the weaker sort

may wish good
Marcius home again.

The very trick on't.

This is unlikely, he and
Aufidius can no more atone

than violentest contrariety.

A fearful army,
led by Caius Marcius

associated with Aufidius,
rages upon our territories,

and have already
o'erborne their way,

consumed with fire, and
took what lay before them.

Nah!

Oh, oh you have made good work!

What news,
what news?

You have holp to ravish
your own daughters

and your temples
burned in their cement.

Your news, if Marcius should
be joined with Volscians...

If! He is their god.

He leads them like a thing
made by some other deity

than nature that
shapes man better.

Yeah, and they follow him,

against us brats, with
no less confidence

than boys pursuing
summer butterflies,

or butchers killing flies.

You have made good work,
you and your apron-men.

But is this true, sir?

Aye, and you'll look pale
before you find it other.

All the regions do
smilingly revolt,

and who resist are mocked
for valiant ignorance,

and perish constant fools.

Who is't can blame him?

We are all undone, unless
the noble man have mercy.

Yeah, well who shall ask it?

The tribunes cannot
do it for shame,

the people deserve
such pity of him

as the wolf does
of the shepherd,

for his best friends,
showed like enemies.

It is true, if he were
putting to my house the fire

that should consume
it, I have not the face

to say, beseech you, cease.

You have brought such
a trembling upon Rome,

such as never was so
incapable of help.

Say not
we brought it!

Oh, come on.
How, was it we?

We loved him but, like
beasts and cowardly nobles,

gave way unto your clusters,

who did hoot him
out of the city.

Yeah, but I fear they'll
roar him in again.

Tullus Aufidius, the
second name of men,

obeys his points as if
he were his officer.

Desperation is all the
policy, strength and defense

that Rome can make against them.

'Tis no matter,

if he could burn us
all into one coal,

we'd have deserved it.

I do not like this news.

Nor I.

Let us to the capitol.

Would half my wealth
would buy this for a lie!

Pray, let us go.

I do not know what
witchcraft's in him,

but your soldiers use him
as their grace 'fore meat,

their talk at table,
and their thanks at end.

And you are darkened in this
action, sir, even by your own.

I cannot help it now,

unless by using means, I
lame the foot of our design.

He bears himself more
proudlier even to my person,

than I thought he would when
first I did embrace him.

Yet his nature in
that's no changeling,

and I must excuse what
cannot be amended.

Yet I wish, sir, I mean
for your particular,

that you had not joined
in commission with him,

but either borne this
action of yourself,

or to him had
left it solely.

I understand thee
well, and be thou sure,

when he shall come
to his account,

he knows not what I
can urge against him,

although he thinks,
and so it seems,

and is no less apparent
to the vulgar eye,

that he bears
all things fairly.

Fights dragon-like,
and does achieve

as soon as draw his sword.

Yet he hath left undone that
which shall break his neck

or hazard mine, whene'er
we come to our account.

Sir, I beseech you,

think you he'll carry Rome?

All things yield to
him ere he sits down.

The nobility of Rome are his.

Senators and patricians
love him too.

Tribunes are no soldiers.

I think his people will
be as rash in the repeal,

as hasty to expel him thence.

I think he'll be to Rome

as is the osprey to the fish,

who takes it by
sovereignty of nature.

First he was a noble
servant to them,

but he could not
bear his honors even.

Whether it was pride,

which out of daily fortune
ever taints the happy man,

or whether
defect of judgment,

to fail in the disposing
of those chances,

which he was lord of,

or whether nature, not to
be other than one thing,

not moving from the
sword to the senate,

but commanding peace even with
the same austerity and garb

as he controlled the war,

but one of these as,

he hath spices of
them all, not all,

for I dare so far free
him, made him feared,

so hated, and so banished,

but he hath a merit to
choke it in the utterance.

So our virtues lie in the
interpretation of the time,

and power, unto itself
most commendable,

hath not a tomb so evident

as a chair to extol
what it hath done.

One fire drives out one fire,

one nail, one nail.

Rights by rights falter,

strengths by strengths do fail.

Come,

let's away.

When, Caius, Rome is thine,

thou art poorest of all,

then shortly art thou mine.

No, I'll not go.
- Oh!

You hear what he hath said,
which was sometime his general,

who loved him in a
most dear particular.

He would not
seem to know me.

Nay, if he coyed to
hear Cominius speak,

I'll keep at home.

Yet one time he did
call me by my name.

I urged our old acquaintance,

and the drops we
have bled together.

Coriolanus, he
would not answer to.

Do you hear?

Forbad all names.

He was a kind of nothing,

titleless,

till he had forged
himself a name

in the fire of
burning Rome.

Why so, you have made good work.

I minded him how
royal it was to pardon

when least expected.

He said it was a bare
petition of the state

to one whom they
had punished.

Very well, could he say less?

I offered to awaken
his regard for his,

his private friends.

He said he could not
stay to pick them

from a pile of
noisome musty chaff.

He said it was folly for
one poor grain or two,

to leave unburnt and
still to nose the offense.

For one poor grain or
two, I am one of those.

His mother, wife, his child,
this brave fellow too,

we are the grains, you
are the musty chaff

and you are smelt
above the moon,

and we must be burnt for you!

Nay pray, be patient!

If you refuse your aid in
this so never-needed help,

yet do not upbraid
us in 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.

No, I'll not meddle.
- Pray you, go to him!

What should I do?

Only make trial what
your love for Rome

can do toward Marcius.

Well...

and what if Marcius
should return me,

as Cominius is returned,
unheard, what then?

Then your good will must
have that thanks from Rome

after the measure,
as you intended well.

I'll undertake it.

I think he'll hear me,
yet, to bite his thumb

and hum at good Cominius,
much unhearts me.

He was not taken well,
he had not dined.

The veins unfilled,
our blood is cold,

and then we pout
upon the morning,

are unapt to give
or to forgive.

But when we have
stuffed 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.

You know the very road
into his kindness,

and cannot lose your way.

Good faith, I'll prove
him, speed how it will.

I shall ere long have
knowledge of my success.

He'll never hear him.

No?

I tell you, he does sit in gold,

his eye

red as 'twould burn Rome,

his injury a jailer to his pity.

I kneeled before him.

It was very
faintly he said,

"Rise."

Dismissed me thus with
his speechless hand.

All hope is vain.

Unless his noble
mother, and his wife

solicit him mercy to
his country.

Stay!

whence are you?

Stand,
and go back.

You guard like men,
'tis well.

But by your leave, I
am an officer of state,

and come to speak
with Coriolanus.

From whence?
- From Rome.

You may not pass,
you must return.

Our general will no
more hear from thence.

You'll see your Rome
embraced with fire

before you'll speak
with Coriolanus.

Good my friends, if you
have heard your general

talk of Rome, and of
his friends there,

it's lots to blanks, my
name hath touched your ears,

it is Menenius.

Be it so,
go back.

The virtue of your name
is not here passable.

I tell thee, fellow, the
general is my friend.

I have been the book
end of his good acts,

therefore, fellow,

I must have leave to pass.

Faith, sir,
go back.

Prithee remember,
my name is Menenius,

always factionary on the
party of your general.

You cannot pass,
therefore, go back!

Has he dined, canst thou tell?

For I would not speak with
him till after dinner.

You're a Roman,
are you?

I am, as thy general is.

Then you should hate
Rome, as he does.

Can you, when you have
pushed 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 palsied intercession

of such a decayed 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 deceived,
therefore, back to Rome,

and prepare for your
execution, you are condemned.

Sir, if thy captain knew I
were here, he would use me

with estimation.
Come, my captain

knows you not.
I mean, thy general.

My general cares
not for you!

Back, I say, go, lest I let
forth your half pint of blood.

Nay, but, fellow, fellow...

What's the matter?

Now you, companion, I'll
say a prayer for you.

You shall know now that
I am in estimation.

Guess, but by my
entertainment with him,

if thou standest not in
the state of hanging.

Behold presently, and swoon
for what's to come upon thee.

Oh, my son.

My son, my son.

Thou art preparing fire for us.

Look, 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.

He who, like a block, hath
denied my access to thee.

Away!

How, away?

Wife, mother, child, I know not.

My affairs are
servanted to others.

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.

Another word, Menenius, I
will not hear thee speak.

This man, Aufidius,
was my beloved in Rome,

yet thou behold'st.

You keep a constant temper.

Now, sir, is your name Menenius?

'Tis a spell, you
see, of much power.

You know the
way home again?

Do you hear how
we are shamed

for keeping your
greatness back?

What cause do you
think I have to swoon?

I neither care for the
world nor your general,

for such things as you, I
can scarce think there's any,

you are so slight.

He that hath a will
to die by himself

fears it not from another.

Let your general do his worst.

As for you, be as you are, long,

and may your misery
increase with your age.

I say to you, as I
was said to, away!

We will before the walls of Rome

tomorrow set down our host.

My partner in this action,

you must report to
the Volscian lords

how plainly I have
borne this business.

Only their ends
you have respected.

Stopped your ears against
the general suit of Rome,

never admitted a
private whisper, no,

not with such friends that
thought them sure of you.

This last old man,

whom with a cracked heart
I have sent to Rome,

loved me above the
measure of a father.

Nay, godded me, indeed.

Fresh embassies and
suits, nor from the state

nor private friends,
hereafter will I lend ear to.

What shout is this?

Let the Volsces plow
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.

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.

Oh, a kiss

long as my exile,

sweet as my revenge.

Ye gods I prate, and the most
noble mother in the world

leave unsaluted, sink,
my knee in the earth.

Oooh,

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.

What is this, your knees to
me, to your corrected son?

Thou art my warrior,

I holp 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,

with the consent
of supreme Jove,

inform thy thoughts
with nobleness,

that thou mayst prove
to shame unvulnerable,

and stick in the wars
like a great sea-mark,

standing every flaw, and
saving those that eye thee.

Your knee, sirrah.

That's my brave boy.

Even he, your wife,
this lady, and myself,

are suitors to you?

I beseech you, peace,
or if you'll 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.

Oh, 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 nought
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

tearing his
country's bowels out.

We must find an
evident calamity,

though we had our wish,
which side should win.

For either thou must,
like a foreign recreant,

be led with manacles
thorough 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 of one,

thou shalt no sooner march
to assault thy country

than to tread, trust
to it, thou shalt not,

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.

I shall not tread on me.

I'll run away till I am
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,

you might condemn us as
poisonous of your honor.

No, our suit is that
you reconcile them.

While the Volsces may say,
this mercy we have showed,

the Romans, this we received,

and each in either side
give the all hail to thee

and cry, be blessed for
making up this peace.

Thou knowest, 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 dogged with curses.

Whose chronicle thus
writ, the man was noble,

but with his last
attempt he wiped it out,

destroyed his country,
and his name remains

to the ensuing age abhorred.

Why dost not speak?

Thinkest thou it
honorable 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 reason.

There's no man in the world
more bound to his mother,

yet here he lets me prate
like one of the stocks.

Thou hast never in thy life

showed thy dear
mother any courtesy.

When she, poor hen, has
clucked thee to the wars

and safely home,
loaden with honors.

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 to which 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 neighbors.

Nay, beholds this boy that
cannot tell what he would have

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 a-fire,
and then I'll speak a little.

Oh mother,

mother.

What have you done?

Behold, the heavens do
ope, the gods look down,

and this unnatural
scene they laugh at!

Oh my mother,

mother.

Ah!

Is't possible that
so short a time

can alter the
condition of a man?

He wants nothing
of a god but eternity

and a heaven to throne in.

Yes, mercy, if you
report him truly.

The gods be good unto us.

No, in such a case as this,

the gods will not
be good to us.

When we banished him,
we respected not them,

and he, returning to break our
necks, they respect not us.

Sir!

If you'd save your life,
fly you 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.

What's the news?

Good news?

The ladies have prevailed.

The Volscians are
dislodged, and Marcius gone?

A merrier day did never
yet greet Rome, friend.

Art thou certain this is
true, is it most certain?

This is good news, I
will go meet the ladies.

You have prayed well today.

This morning for ten
thousand of your throats

I'd not have given a doit.

How is it with our general?

As with a man by his
own charity slain.

We must proceed as we
do find the people.

The people 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 discourse.

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.

And to this end,

he bowed his nature,

never known before
but to be rough,

unswayable and free.

Sir, his stoutness, when
he did stand for consul,

which he lost by
lack of stooping...

That I would have spoken of.

Being banished for it,
he came unto my hearth.

He presented to my
knife his throat.

I took him,

I 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
served 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 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 marvelled 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
the which my sinews

shall be stretched upon him.

For 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.

But, hark!

Your native town you
entered like a post,

and had no welcomes
home, but he returns,

splitting the air with noise.

And patient fools, whose
children he hath slain,

their base throats tear
with giving him glory.

Say no more, here
come the lords.

You are most welcome home.

I have not deserved it.

But worthy lords,
have you with heed

perused what I have
written to you?

We have.

And grieve to hear it.

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,

making a treaty where
there was a yielding,

this admits no excuse.

You shall hear him.

Hail, lords, I am
returned your soldier,

no more infected with
my country's love

than when I parted thence,

but still subsisting
under your great command.

Our spoils we have brought
home do more than counterpoise

a full third part the
charges of the action.

We have made peace

with no less honor
to the Antiates

than shame to the Romans.

And we here deliver,
subscribed by the consuls

and patricians, together
with the seal of the senate,

what we have compounded on.

Read it not, noble lords,

but tell the traitor,
in the highest degree

he hath abused your powers.

Traitor, how now?

- Aye traitor, Marcius.
- Marcius?

Aye, Marcius,

Caius Marcius.

Dost thou think I'll grace
thee with that robbery,

thy stolen name

Coriolanus in Corioles?

You lords and
heads of the state,

perfidiously he has betrayed
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 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!

Ha?
- No more.

Measureless liar, thou
hast made my heart

too great for what contains it.

Boy?

Oh slave, pardon me,
lords, 'tis the first time

that ever I was forced to scold.

And your judgments,
my grave 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.

Peace, both, hear me speak.

Cut me to pieces, Volsces.

Boy?

False hound.

If you have writ your
annals true, 'tis there,

that like an eagle
in a dove-cote,

I fluttered your
Volscians in Corioles.

Alone, I did it, boy!

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?

Peace, ho, no outrage, peace!

The man is noble and
his fame folds-in

this orb over the earth.

His last offenses to us
shall have judicious hearing.

Stand, Aufidius, and
trouble not the peace.

Oh that I had him, with
six Aufidiuses or more,

his tribe, to use
my lawful sword!

Insolent villain!

Hold, hold,
hold, hold, hold!

Thou hast done a deed
whereat valor will weep.

When you shall know,

noble lords,

the great danger which this
man's life did owe you,

you'll rejoice that
he is thus cut off.

Please it your honors to
call me to your senate,

I'll deliver myself
your most loyal servant,

or endure your heaviest censure.

My rage is gone,

and I am struck with sorrow.

Help, to bear him up,

three of the chiefest soldiers.

I'll be one.

Beat thou the drum,
let 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.

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