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  • Title: Coriolanus (Folio 1, 1623)

  • Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Coriolanus (Folio 1, 1623)

    Mar. Say, ha's our Generall met the Enemy?
    Mess. They lye in view, but haue not spoke as yet.
    Lart. So, the good Horse is mine.
    490Mart. Ile buy him of you.
    Lart. No, Ile nor sel, nor giue him: Lend you him I will
    For halfe a hundred yeares: Summon the Towne.
    Mar. How farre off lie these Armies?
    Mess. Within this mile and halfe.
    495Mar. Then shall we heare their Larum, & they Ours.
    Now Mars, I prythee make vs quicke in worke,
    That we with smoaking swords may march from hence
    To helpe our fielded Friends. Come, blow thy blast.

    They Sound a Parley:Enter two Senators with others on
    500the Walles of Corialus.
    Tullus Auffidious, is he within your Walles?
    1. Senat. No, nor a man that feares you lesse then he,
    That's lesser then a little: Drum a farre off.
    Hearke, our Drummes
    505Are bringing forth our youth: Wee'l breake our Walles
    Rather then they shall pound vs vp our Gates,
    Which yet seeme shut, we haue but pin'd with Rushes,
    They'le open of themselues. Harke you, farre off
    Alarum farre off.
    510There is Auffidious. List what worke he makes
    Among'st your clouen Army.
    Mart. Oh they are at it.
    Lart. Their noise be our instruction. Ladders hoa.

    Enter the Army of the Volces.
    515Mar. They feare vs not, but issue forth their Citie.
    Now put your Shields before your hearts, and fight
    With hearts more proofe then Shields.
    Aduance braue Titus,
    They do disdaine vs much beyond our Thoughts,
    520which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on my fellows
    He that retires, Ile take him for a Volce,
    And he shall feele mine edge.
    Alarum, the Romans are beat back to their Trenches
    Enter Martius Cursing.
    525Mar. All the contagion of the South, light on you,
    You Shames of Rome: you Heard of Byles and Plagues
    Plaister you o're, that you may be abhorr'd
    Farther then seene, and one infect another
    Against the Winde a mile: you soules of Geese,
    530That beare the shapes of men, how haue you run
    From Slaues, that Apes would beate; Pluto and Hell,
    All hurt behinde, backes red, and faces pale
    With flight and agued feare, mend and charge home,
    Or by the fires of heauen, Ile leaue the Foe,
    535And make my Warres on you: Looke too't: Come on,
    If you'l stand fast, wee'l beate them to their Wiues,
    As they vs to our Trenches followes.
    Another Alarum, and Martius followes them to
    gates, and is shut in.
    540So, now the gates are ope: now proue good Seconds,
    'Tis for the followers Fortune, widens them,
    Not for the flyers: Marke me, and do the like.
    Enter the Gati.
    1. Sol. Foole-hardinesse, not I.
    5452. Sol. Nor I.
    1. Sol. See they haue shut him in. Alarum continues
    All. To th' pot I warrant him. Enter Titus Lartius
    Tit. What is become of Martius?
    All. Slaine (Sir) doubtlesse.
    5501. Sol. Following the Flyers at the very heeles,
    With them he enters: who vpon the sodaine
    Clapt to their Gates, he is himselfe alone,
    To answer all the City.
    Lar. Oh Noble Fellow!
    555Who sensibly out-dares his sencelesse Sword,
    And when it bowes, stand'st vp: Thou art left Martius,
    A Carbuncle intire: as big as thou art
    Weare not so rich a Iewell. Thou was't a Souldier
    Euen to Calues wish, not fierce and terrible
    560Onely in strokes, but with thy grim lookes, and
    The Thunder-like percussion of thy sounds
    Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the World
    Were Feauorous, and did tremble.

    Enter Martius bleeding, assaulted by the Enemy.
    5651. Sol. Looke Sir.
    Lar. O 'tis Martius.
    Let's fetch him off, or make remaine alike.
    They fight, and all enter the City.
    Enter certaine Romanes with spoiles.
    5701. Rom. This will I carry to Rome.
    2. Rom. And I this.
    3. Rom. A Murrain on't, I tooke this for Siluer. exeunt.
    Alarum continues still a-farre off.
    Enter Martius, and Titus with a Trumpet.
    575Mar. See heere these mouers, that do prize their hours
    At a crack'd Drachme: Cushions, Leaden Spoones,
    Irons of a Doit, Dublets that Hangmen would
    Bury with those that wore them. These base slaues,
    Ere yet the fight be done, packe vp, downe with them.
    580And harke, what noyse the Generall makes: To him
    There is the man of my soules hate, Auffidious,
    Piercing our Romanes: Then Valiant Titus take
    Conuenient Numbers to make good the City,
    Whil'st I with those that haue the spirit, wil haste
    585To helpe Cominius.
    Lar. Worthy Sir, thou bleed'st,
    Thy exercise hath bin too violent,
    For a second course of Fight.
    Mar. Sir, praise me not:
    590My worke hath yet not warm'd me. Fare you well:
    The blood I drop, is rather Physicall
    Then dangerous to me: To Auffidious thus, I will appear (and fight.
    Lar. Now the faire Goddesse Fortune,
    Fall deepe in loue with thee, and her great charmes
    595Misguide thy Opposers swords, Bold Gentleman:
    Prosperity be thy Page.
    Mar. Thy Friend no lesse,
    Then those she placeth highest: So farewell.
    Lar. Thou worthiest Martius,
    600Go sound thy Trumpet in the Market place,
    Call thither all the Officers a'th' Towne,
    Where they shall know our minde. Away. Exeunt
    Enter Cominius as it were in retire, with soldiers.
    Com. Breath you my friends, wel fought, we are come (off,
    605Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands,
    Nor Cowardly in retyre: Beleeue me Sirs,
    We shall be charg'd againe. Whiles we haue strooke
    By Interims and conueying gusts, we haue heard
    The Charges of our Friends. The Roman Gods,
    610Leade their successes, as we wish our owne,
    That both our powers, with smiling Fronts encountring,
    May giue you thankfull Sacrifice. Thy Newes?
    Enter a Messenger.
    Mess. The Cittizens of Corioles haue yssued,
    615And giuen to Lartius and to Martius Battaile: