Coriolanus (Folio 1, 1623)
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28
The Tragedie of Coriolanus.
¶And beare the Palme, for hauing brauely shed
¶Thy Wife and Childrens blood: For my selfe, Sonne,
¶I purpose not to waite on Fortune, till
¶Rather to shew a Noble grace to both parts,
3480That brought thee to this world.
¶Virg. I, and mine, that brought you forth this boy,
¶To keepe your name liuing to time.
¶Till I am bigger, but then Ile fight.
¶Requires nor Childe, nor womans face to see:
¶I haue sate too long.
¶Volum. Nay, go not from vs thus:
¶The Volces whom you serue, you might condemne vs
¶Is that you reconcile them: While the Volces
3495This we receiu'd, and each in either side
¶Giue the All-haile to thee, and cry be Blest
¶For making vp this peace. Thou know'st (great Sonne)
¶The end of Warres vncertaine: but this certaine,
¶That if thou conquer Rome, the benefit
¶Whose Chronicle thus writ, The man was Noble,
¶But with his last Attempt, he wip'd it out:
¶Destroy'd his Country, and his name remaines
3505To th' insuing Age, abhorr'd. Speake to me Son:
¶To imitate the graces of the Gods.
¶To teare with Thunder the wide Cheekes a'th' Ayre,
¶And yet to change thy Sulphure with a Boult
¶Think'st thou it Honourable for a Nobleman
¶Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speake you:
¶He cares not for your weeping. Speake thou Boy,
3515Then can our Reasons. There's no man in the world
¶More bound to's Mother, yet heere he let's me prate
¶Like one i'th' Stockes. Thou hast neuer in thy life,
¶Shew'd thy deere Mother any curtesie,
3520Ha's clock'd thee to the Warres: and safelie home
¶Thou art not honest, and the Gods will plague thee
3525To a Mothers part belongs. He turnes away:
¶Down Ladies: let vs shame him with him with our knees
¶To his sur-name Coriolanus longs more pride
¶Then pitty to our Prayers. Downe: an end,
¶This is the last. So, we will home to Rome,
3530And dye among our Neighbours: Nay, behold's,
¶This Boy that cannot tell what he would haue,
¶But kneeles, and holds vp hands for fellowship,
¶Then thou hast to deny't. Come, let vs go:
3535This Fellow had a Volcean to his Mother:
¶His Wife is in Corioles, and his Childe
¶Like him by chance: yet giue vs our dispatch:
¶
Holds her by the hand silent.
3540Corio. O Mother, Mother!
¶What haue you done? Behold, the Heauens do ope,
¶The Gods looke downe, and this vnnaturall Scene
¶They laugh at. Oh my Mother, Mother: Oh!
¶You haue wonne a happy Victory to Rome.
3545But for your Sonne, beleeue it: Oh beleeue it,
¶If not most mortall to him. But let it come:
¶Auffidius, though I cannot make true Warres,
¶Ile frame conuenient peace. Now good Auffidius,
3550Were you in my steed, would you haue heard
¶Auf. I was mou'd withall.
¶And sir, it is no little thing to make
¶What peace you'l make, aduise me: For my part,
¶Ile not to Rome, Ile backe with you, and pray you
¶Stand to me in this cause. Oh Mother! Wife!
3560At difference in thee: Out of that Ile worke
¶My selfe a former Fortune.
¶Corio. I by and by; But we will drinke together:
¶And you shall beare
3565On like conditions, will haue Counter-seal'd.
¶Come enter with vs: Ladies you deserue
¶To haue a Temple built you: All the Swords
¶In Italy, and her Confederate Armes
¶Could not haue made this peace.
Exeunt.
3570
Enter Menenius and Sicinius.
¶Sicin. Why what of that?
3575cially his Mother, may preuaile with him. But I say, there
¶execution.
¶condition of a man.
3580Mene. There is differency between a Grub & a But-
¶terfly, yet your Butterfly was a Grub: this Martius, is
¶growne from Man to Dragon: He has wings, hee's more
¶then a creeping thing.
¶Sicin. He lou'd his Mother deerely.
3585Mene. So did he mee: and he no more remembers his
¶of his face, sowres ripe Grapes. When he walks, he moues
¶like an Engine, and the ground shrinkes before his Trea-
¶ding. He is able to pierce a Corslet with his eye: Talkes
3590like a knell, and his hum is a Battery. He sits in his State,
¶as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids bee done, is
¶finisht with his bidding. He wants nothing of a God but
¶Eternity, and a Heauen to Throne in.
¶Sicin. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly.
3595Mene. I paint him in the Character. Mark what mer-
¶cy his Mother shall bring from him: There is no more
¶mercy in him, then there is milke in a male-Tyger, that
¶shall our poore City finde: and all this is long of you.
¶Sicin. The Gods be good vnto vs.
¶and he returning to breake our necks, they respect not vs.
¶
Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
