Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS.

Bru. In this point charge him home, that he affects
Tyrannical power: if he evade us there,
Enforce him with his envy to the people;
And that the spoil got on the Antiates
Was ne'er distributed.

Enter an Edile.

What, will he come?

Ed.

He's coming.

Bru.

How accompanied?

Ed. With old Menenius, and those senators That always favour'd him.

Sic.

Of all the voices that we have procur'd,

Set down by the poll?

Ed.

Have you a catalogue

I have; 'tis ready.

Sic. Have you collected them by tribes?
Ed.

I have.

Sic. Assemble presently the people hither:
And when they hear me say, It shall be so

I' the right and strength o' the commons, be it either
For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them,
If I say fine, cry Fine,-if death, cry Death;
Insisting on the old prerogative

And power i' the truth o' the cause.

Ed.

I shall inform them.

Bru. And when such time they have begun to cry, Let them not cease, but with a din confus'd

Enforce the present execution

Of what we chance to sentence.

Ed.

Very well.

Sic. Make them be strong, and ready for this hint, When we shall hap to give't them.

Bru.

Go about it.

Put him to choler straight: he hath been us'd
Ever to conquer, and to have his worth

[Exit Edile.

Of contradiction: being once chaf'd, he cannot
Be rein'd again to temperance; then he speaks
What's in his heart; and that is there which looks
With us to break his neck.

Sic. Well, here he comes.

Enter CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS, COMINIUS, Senators, and Patricians.

Men. Calmly, I do beseech you.

Cor. Ay, as an ostler, that for the poorest piece Will bear the knave by the volume.-The honour'd gods Keep Rome in safety, and the chairs of justice Supplied with worthy men! plant love among's! Throng our large temples with the shows of peace, And not our streets with war!

1 Sen.

Men. A noble wish.

Amen, amen!

Re-enter Edile, with Citizens.

Sic. Draw near, ye people.

Ed. List to your tribunes; audience: peace, I say! Cor. First, hear me speak.

Both Tri.

Well, say.-Peace, ho! Cor. Shall I be charg'd no further than this present? Must all determine here?

Sic.

I do demand,

If you submit you to the people's voices,
Allow their officers, and are content
To suffer lawful censure for such faults
As shall be proved upon you?

Cor.

I am content.

Men. Lo, citizens, he says he is content:
The warlike service he has done, consider; think
Upon the wounds his body bears, which show like
Graves i' the holy churchyard.

Cor.

Scars to move laughter only.

Scratches with briers,

Men.
Consider further,
That when he speaks not like a citizen,
You find him like a soldier: do not take
His rougher accents for malicious sounds,
But, as I say, such as become a soldier,
Rather than envy you.

Com.

Well, well, no more.

Cor. What is the matter,

That being pass'd for consul with full voice,
I am so dishonour'd that the very hour

You take it off again?

Sic.

Answer to us.

Cor. Say then: 'tis true, I ought so.

Sic. We charge you that you have contriv'd to take

From Rome all season'd office, and to wind
Yourself into a power tyrannical;

For which you are a traitor to the people.
Cor. How! traitor!

Men.

Nay, temperately; your promise. Cor. The fires i' the lowest hell fold in the people! Call me their traitor!-Thou injurious tribune! Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, In thy hands clutch'd as many millions, in Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say, Thou liest unto thee, with a voice as free As I do pray the gods.

Sic.

Mark you this, people?

Citizens. To the rock, to the rock with him!
Sic. Peace!

We need not put new matter to his charge:

What you have seen him do and heard him speak,
Beating your officers, cursing yourselves,
Opposing laws with strokes, and here defying
Those whose great power must try him; even this,
So criminal, and in such capital kind,

Deserves the extremest death.

Bru.

Serv'd well for Rome,-

Cor.

But since he hath

Bru. I talk of that, that know it.

Cor. You?

What, do you prate of service?

mother?

Men. Is this the promise that you made your
Com. Know, I pray you,

Cor.
I'll know no further:
Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death,
Vagabond exile, flaying, pent to linger
But with a grain a day, I would not buy
Their mercy at the price of one fair word,
Nor check my courage for what they can give,
To have't with saying Good-morrow.

For that he has,

Sic.
As much as in him lies,-from time to time
Envied against the people, seeking means
To pluck away their power; as now at last
Given hostile strokes, and that not in the presence
Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers

That do distribute it;-in the name o' the people,

And in the power of us the tribunes, we,

Even from this instant, banish him our city;
In peril of precipitation

From off the rock Tarpeian, never more

To enter our Rome gates: i' the people's name,
I say it shall be so.

Citizens. It shall be so, it shall be so; let him away:
He's banished, and it shall be so.

Com. Hear me, my masters, and my common friends,— Sic. He's sentenc'd; no more hearing.

Com.

Let me speak:

I have been consul, and can show for Rome
Her enemies' marks upon me. I do love
My country's good with a respect more tender,
More holy and profound, than mine own life,
My dear wife's estimate, her womb's increase,
And treasure of my loins; then if I would
Speak that,-

Sic.

We know your drift. Speak what?
Bru. There's no more to be said, but he is banish'd,
As enemy to the people and his country:

It shall be so.

Citizens. It shall be so, it shall be so.

Cor. You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate
As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize
As the dead carcasses of unburied men
That do corrupt my air,-I banish you;
And here remain with your uncertainty!
Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts!
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,
Fan you into despair! Have the power still
To banish your defenders; till at length
Your ignorance,—which finds not till it feels,—
Making not reservation of yourselves,-
Still your own foes,-deliver you, as most
Abated captives, to some nation

That won you without blows! Despising,
For you, the city, thus I turn my back:
There is a world elsewhere.

[Exeunt COR., COM., MEN., Senators, and Patricians. Ed. The people's enemy is gone, is gone!

Citizens. Our enemy is banish'd! he is gone! Hoo! hoo!

[Shouting, and throwing up their caps.

Sic. Go, see him out at gates, and follow him,

As he hath follow'd you, with all despite;
Give him deserv'd vexation. Let a guard

Attend us through the city.

Citizens. Come, come, let us see him out at gates; come. The gods preserve our noble tribunes!-Come.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE L.-ROME.

Before a Gate of the City.

Enter CORIOLANUS, VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, MENenius, COMINIUS, and several young Patricians.

Cor. Come, leave your tears; a brief farewell:-the beast
With many heads butts me away.-Nay, mother,
Where is your ancient courage? you were us'd
To say extremity was the trier of spirits;
That common chances common men could bear;
That when the sea was calm all boats alike
Show'd mastership in floating; fortune's blows,

When most struck home, being gentle wounded, craves
A noble cunning: you were us'd to load me

With precepts that would make invincible
The heart that conn'd them.

Vir. O heavens! O heavens!

Cor.

Nay, I pr'ythee, woman,

Vol. Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome, And occupations perish!

Cor.

What, what, what!

I shall be lov'd when I am lack'd. Nay, mother,
Resume that spirit when you were wont to say,
If you had been the wife of Hercules,

Six of his labours you'd have done, and sav'd
Your husband so much sweat.-Cominius,

Droop not; adieu.—Farewell, my wife,―my mother:
I'll do well yet. -—Thou old and true Menenius,
Thy tears are salter than a younger man's,

And venomous to thine eyes.-My some time general,
I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld
Heart-hard'ning spectacles; tell these sad women
"Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes

As 'tis to laugh at 'em.-My mother, you wot well
My hazards still have been your solace: and
Believe 't not lightly,-though I go alone,

Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen

Makes fear'd and talk'd of more than seen,--your son
Will or exceed the common or be caught

With cautelous baits and practice.

My first son,

Vol.
Whither wilt thou go? Take good Čominius
With thee awhile: determine on some course