The Roman camp.
[Flourish. Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Flourish.
Enter, from one side, COMINIUS with the Romans; from
the other side, MARCIUS, with his arm in a scarf]
COMINIUS If I should tell thee o’er this thy day’s work,
Thou’ldst not believe thy deeds: but I’ll report it
Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles,
Where great patricians shall attend and shrug,
I’ the end admire, where ladies shall be frighted,
And, gladly quaked, hear more; where the dull tribunes,
That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours,
Shall say against their hearts ‘We thank the gods
Our Rome hath such a soldier.’
MARCIUS Pray now, no more: my mother,
Who has a charter to extol her blood,
When she does 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:
He that has but effected his good will
Hath overta’en mine act.
COMINIUS You shall not be
The grave of your deserving; Rome must know
The value of her own: therefore, I beseech you
In sign of what you are, not to reward
What you have done–before our army hear me.
MARCIUS I have some wounds upon me, and they smart
To hear themselves remember’d.
COMINIUS Should they not,
Well might they fester ‘gainst ingratitude,
And tent themselves with death.
[A long flourish. They all cry ‘Marcius!
Marcius!’ cast up their caps and lances:
COMINIUS and LARTIUS stand bare]
Of all the treasure in this field achieved and city,
We render you the tenth, to be ta’en forth,
Before the common distribution, at
Your only choice.
MARCIUS 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.
MARCIUS May these same instruments, which you profane,
Never sound more! when drums and trumpets shall
I’ the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be
Made all of false-faced soothing!
For that I have not wash’d
My nose that bled, or foil’d some debile 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.
COMINIUS Too modest are you;
More cruel to your good report than grateful
To us that give you truly: by your patience,
If ‘gainst yourself you be incensed, we’ll put you,
Like one that means his proper harm, in manacles,
Then reason safely with you. Therefore, be it known,
As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius
Wears this war’s garland: and from this time,
For what he did before Corioli, call him,
With all the applause and clamour of the host,
CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS!
[Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums]
All Caius Marcius Coriolanus!
COMINIUS Bear the addition nobly ever!
CORIOLANUS I will go wash;
And when my face is fair, you shall perceive
Whether I blush or no:
The gods begin to mock me. I, that now
Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg
Of my lord general.
COMINIUS Take’t; ’tis yours. What is’t?
CORIOLANUS I sometime lay here in Corioli
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 o’erwhelm’d my pity: I request you
To give my poor host freedom.
COMINIUS O, well begg’d!
Were he the butcher of my son, he should
Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus.
LARTIUS Marcius, his name?
CORIOLANUS By Jupiter! forgot.
I am weary; yea, my memory is tired.
Have we no wine here?
Playlist Coriolanus | Dramatis Personea | Plays & Info