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thy wrath, and turn the dregs of it upon this varlet here; this, |
who, like a block, hath denied my access to thee. |
CORIOLANUS. Away! |
MENENIUS. How! away! |
CORIOLANUS. Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs |
Are servanted to others. Though I owe |
My revenge properly, my remission lies |
In Volscian breasts. That we have been familiar, |
Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison rather |
Than pity note how much. Therefore be gone. |
Mine ears against your suits are stronger than |
Your gates against my force. Yet, for I lov'd thee, |
Take this along; I writ it for thy sake [Gives a letter] |
And would have sent it. Another word, Menenius, |
I will not hear thee speak. This man, Aufidius, |
Was my belov'd in Rome; yet thou behold'st. |
AUFIDIUS. You keep a constant temper. |
Exeunt CORIOLANUS and Aufidius |
FIRST WATCH. Now, sir, is your name Menenius? |
SECOND WATCH. 'Tis a spell, you see, of much power! You know the |
way home again. |
FIRST WATCH. Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your |
greatness back? |
SECOND WATCH. What cause, do you think, I have to swoon? |
MENENIUS. I neither care for th' world nor your general; for such |
things as you, I can scarce think there's any, y'are so slight. |
He that hath a will to die by himself fears it not from another. |
Let your general do his worst. For you, be that you are, long; |
and your misery increase with your age! I say to you, as I was |
said to: Away! Exit |
FIRST WATCH. A noble fellow, I warrant him. |
SECOND WATCH. The worthy fellow is our general; he's the rock, the |
oak not to be wind-shaken. Exeunt |
SCENE III. |
The tent of CORIOLANUS |
Enter CORIOLANUS, AUFIDIUS, and others |
CORIOLANUS. We will before the walls of Rome to-morrow |
Set down our host. My partner in this action, |
You must report to th' Volscian lords how plainly |
I have borne this business. |
AUFIDIUS. Only their ends |
You have respected; stopp'd your ears against |
The general suit of Rome; never admitted |
A private whisper- no, not with such friends |
That thought them sure of you. |
CORIOLANUS. This last old man, |
Whom with crack'd heart I have sent to Rome, |
Lov'd me above the measure of a father; |
Nay, godded me indeed. Their latest refuge |
Was to send him; for whose old love I have- |
Though I show'd sourly to him- once more offer'd |
The first conditions, which they did refuse |
And cannot now accept. To grace him only, |
That thought he could do more, a very little |
I have yielded to; fresh embassies and suits, |
Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafter |
Will I lend ear to. [Shout within] Ha! what shout is this? |
Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow |
In the same time 'tis made? I will not. |
Enter, in mourning habits, VIRGILIA, VOLUMNIA, VALERIA, |
YOUNG MARCIUS, with attendants |
My wife comes foremost, then the honour'd mould |
Wherein this trunk was fram'd, and in her hand |
The grandchild to her blood. But out, affection! |
All bond and privilege of nature, break! |
Let it be virtuous to be obstinate. |
What is that curtsy worth? or those doves' eyes, |
Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not |
Of stronger earth than others. My mother bows, |
As if Olympus to a molehill should |
In supplication nod; and my young boy |
Hath an aspect of intercession which |
Great nature cries 'Deny not.' Let the Volsces |
Plough Rome and harrow Italy; I'll never |
Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand |
As if a man were author of himself |
And knew no other kin. |
VIRGILIA. My lord and husband! |
CORIOLANUS. These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome. |
VIRGILIA. The sorrow that delivers us thus chang'd |
Makes you think so. |
CORIOLANUS. Like a dull actor now |
I have forgot my part and I am out, |
Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh, |
Forgive my tyranny; but do not say, |
For that, 'Forgive our Romans.' O, a kiss |
Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge! |
Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss |
I carried from thee, dear, and my true lip |
Hath virgin'd it e'er since. You gods! I prate, |
And the most noble mother of the world |
Leave unsaluted. Sink, my knee, i' th' earth; [Kneels] |
Of thy deep duty more impression show |
Than that of common sons. |
VOLUMNIA. O, stand up blest! |
Whilst with no softer cushion than the flint |
I kneel before thee, and unproperly |
Show duty, as mistaken all this while |
Between the child and parent. [Kneels] |
CORIOLANUS. What's this? |
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