[Scene II.]
Enter Coriolanus with Nobles.
Corio.
Let them pull all about mine eares, preſent me
Death on the Wheele, or at wilde Horſes heeles,
Or pile ten hilles on the Tarpeian Rocke,
That the precipitation might downe ſtretch
Below the beame of ſight; yet will I ſtill
Be thus to them
Enter Volumnia.
Noble.
You do the Nobler.
Corio.
I muſe my Mother
Do's not approue me further, who was wont
To call them Wollen Vaſſailes, things created
To buy and ſell with Groats, to ſhew bare heads
In Congregations, to yawne, be ſtill, and wonder,
When one but of my ordinance ſtood vp
To ſpeake of Peace, or Warre. I talke of you,
Why did you wiſh me milder? Would you haue me
Falſe to my Nature? Rather ſay, I play
The man I am.
Volum.
Oh ſir, ſir, ſir,
I would haue had you put your power well on
Before you had worne it out.
Corio.
Let go.
Vol.
You might haue beene enough the man you are,
With ſtriuing leſſe to be ſo: Leſſer had bin
The things of your diſpoſitions, if
You had not ſhew'd them how ye were disſpos'd
Ere they lack'd power to croſſe you.
Corio.
Let them hang.|
Volum.
I, and burne too.
Enter Menenius with the Senators.
Men.
Come, come, you haue bin too rough, ſomthing
too rough: you muſt returne, and mend it.
Sen.
There's no remedy,
Vnleſſe by not ſo doing, our good Citie
Cleaue in the midd'ſt, and periſh.
Volum.
Pray be counſail'd;
I haue a heart as little apt as yours,
But yet a braine, that leades my vſe of Anger
To better vantage.
Mene.
Well ſaid, Noble woman:
Before he ſhould thus ſtoope to'th'heart, but that
The violent fit a'th'time craues it as Phyſicke
For the whole State; I would put mine Armour on,
Which I can ſcarſely beare.
Corio.
What muſt I do?
Mene.
Returne to th'Tribunes.
Corio.
Well, what then? what then?
Mene.
Repent, what you haue ſpoke.
Corio.
For them, I cannot do it to the Gods,
Muſt I then doo't to them?
Volum.
You are too abſolute,
Though therein you can neuer be too Noble,
But when extremities ſpeake. I haue heard you ſay,
Honor and Policy, like vnſeuer'd Friends,
I'th'Warre do grow together: Grant that, and tell me
In Peace, what each of them by th'other looſe,
That they combine not there?
Corio.
Tuſh, tuſh.
Mene.
A good demand.
Volum.
If it be Honor in your Warres, to ſeeme
The fame you are not, which for your beſt ends
You adopt your policy: How is it leſſe or worſe
That it ſhall hold Companionſhip in Peace
With Honour, as in Warre; ſince that to both
It ſtands in like requeſt.
Corio.
Why force you this?
Volum.
Becauſe, that
Now it lyes you on to ſpeake to th'people:
Not by your owne inſtruction, nor by'th'matter
Which your heart prompts you, but with ſuch words
That are but roated in your Tongue;
Though but Baſtards, and Syllables
Of no allowance, to your boſomes truth.
Now, this no more diſhonors you at all,
Then to take in a Towne with gentle words,
Which elſe would put you to your fortune, and
The hazard of much blood.
I would diſſemble with my Nature, where
My Fortunes and my Friends at ſtake, requir'd
I ſhould do ſo in Honor. I am in this
Your Wife, your Sonne: Theſe Senators, the Nobles,
And you, will rather ſhew our generall Lowts,
How you can frowne, then ſpend a fawne vpon 'em,
For the inheritance of their loues, and ſafegard
Of what that want might ruine.
Menen.
Noble Lady,
Come goe with vs, ſpeake faire: you may ſalue ſo,
Not what is dangerous preſent, but the loſſe
Of what is paſt.
Volum.
I pry thee now, my Sonne,
Goe to them, with this Bonnet in thy hand,
And thus farre hauing ſtretcht it (here be with them)
Thy Knee buſſing the ſtones: for in ſuch buſineſſe
Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th'ignorant
More learned then the eares, wauing thy head,
Which often thus correcting thy ſtout heart,
Now humble as the ripeſt Mulberry,
That will not hold the handling: or ſay to them,
Thou art their Souldier, and being bred in broyles,
Haſt not the ſoft way, which thou do'ſt confeſſe
Were fit for thee to vſe, as they to clayme,
In asking their good loues, but thou wilt frame
Thy ſelfe (forſooth) hereafter theirs ſo farre,
As thou haſt power and perſon.
Menen.
This but done,
Euen as ſhe ſpeakes, why their hearts were yours:
For they haue Pardons, being ask'd, as free,
As words to little purpoſe.
Volum.
Prythee now,
Goe, and be rul'd: although I know thou hadſt rather
Follow thine Enemie in a fierie Gulfe,
Then flatter him in a Bower. Enter Cominius.
Here is Cominius.
Com.
I haue beene i'th' Market place: and Sir 'tis fit
You make ſtrong partie, or defend your ſelfe
By calmeneſſe, or by abſence: all's in anger.
Menen.
Onely faire ſpeech.
Com.
I thinke 'twill ſerue, if he can thereto frame his
ſpirit.
Volum.
He muſt, and will:
Prythee now ſay you will, and goe about it.
Corio.
Muſt I goe ſhew them my vnbarb'd Sconce?
Muſt I with my baſe Tongue giue to my Noble Heart
A Lye, that it muſt beare well? I will doo't:
Yet were there but this ſingle Plot, to looſe
This Mould of Martius, they to duſt ſhould grinde it,
And throw't againſt the Winde. Toth' Market place:
You haue put me now to ſuch a part, which neuer
I ſhall diſcharge toth' Life.
Com.
Come, come, wee'le prompt you.
Volum.
I prythee now ſweet Son, as thou haſt ſaid
My praiſes made thee firſt a Souldier; ſo
To haue my praiſe for this, performe a part
Thou haſt not done before.
Corio.
Well, I muſt doo't:
Away my diſpoſition, and poſſeſſe me
Some Harlots ſpirit: My throat of Warre be turn'd,
Which quier'd with my Drumme into a Pipe,
Small as an Eunuch, or the Virgin voyce
That Babies lull a-ſleepe: The ſmiles of Knaues
Tent in my cheekes, and Schoole-boyes Teares take vp
The Glaſſes of my ſight: A Beggars Tongue
Make motion through my Lips, and my Arm'd knees
Who bow'd but in my Stirrop, bend like his
That hath receiu'd an Almes. I will not doo't,
Leaſt I ſurceaſe to honor mine owne truth,
And by my Bodies action, teach my Minde
A moſt inherent Baſeneſſe.
Volum.
At thy choice then:
To begge of thee, it is my more diſ-honor,
Then thou of them. Come all to ruine, let
Thy Mother rather feele thy Pride, then feare
Thy dangerous Stoutneſſe: for I mocke at death
With as bigge heart as thou. Do as thou liſt,
Thy Valiantneſſe was mine, thou ſuck'ſt it from me:
But owe thy Pride thy ſelfe.
Corio.
Pray be content:
Mother, I am going to the Market place:
Chide me no more. Ile Mountebanke their Loues,
Cogge their Hearts from them, and come home belou'd
Of all the Trades in Rome. Looke, I am going:
Commend me to my Wife, Ile returne Conſull,
Or neuer truſt to what my Tongue can do
I'th way of Flattery further.
Volum.
Do your will. Exit Volumnia
Com.
Away, the Tribunes do attend you: arm your ſelf
To anſwer mildely: for they are prepar'd
With Accuſations, as I heare more ſtrong
Then are vpon you yet.
Corio.
The word is, Mildely. Pray you let vs go,
Let them accuſe me by inuention: I
Will anſwer in mine Honor.
Menen.
I, but mildely.
Corio.
Well mildely be it then, Mildely. Exeunt