And power, unto itself most commendable, Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair To extol what it hath done. One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail; Rights by rights fouler, strengths by strengths, do fail. Come, let's away. When, Caius, Rome is thine, Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou mine. [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I. Rome. A publick place. Enter MENENIUS, COMINIUS, SICINIUS, BRUTUS, and Others. Men. No, I'll not go: you hear, what he hath said, Which was sometime his general; who lov'd him In a most dear particular. He call'd me, father: But what o'that? Go, you that banish'd him, A mile before his tent fall down, and kneel The way into his merey: Nay, if he coy'd To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home. Com. He would not seem to know me. Men. That we have bled together. Coriolanus Till he had forg'd himself a name i' the fire Men. Why, so; you have made good work: A pair of tribunes that have rack'd for Rome, To make coals cheap: A noble memory! Com. I minded him, how royal 'twas to pardon When it was less expected: He reply'd, Com. I offer'd to awaken his regard For his private friends: His answer to me was, Men.. For one poor grain Or two? I am one of those; his mother, wife, His child, and this brave fellow too, we are the grains: You are the musty chaff; and you are smelt Above the moon: We must be burnt for you. Sic. Nay, pray, be patient: If you refuse your aid In this so never-heeded help, yet do not Upbraid us with our distress. But, sure, if you Would be your country's pleader, your good tongue, More than the instant army we can make, Might stop our countryman. Men. Sic. I pray you, go to him. Men. No; I'll not meddle. What should I do? Bru. Only make trial what your love can do For Rome, towards Marcius. Men. Well, and say that Marcius Return me, as Cominius is return'd, Unheard; what then? But as a discontented friend, grief-shot Sic. Yet your good will Must have that thanks from Rome, after the measure As you intended well. I think, he'll hear me. I'll undertake it: Yet to bite his lip, And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me. He was not taken well; he had not din'd: To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd And then I'll set upon him. Bru. You know the very road into his kindness, And cannot lose your way. Men. Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge Of my success. Com. Sic. Good faith, I'll prove him, [Exit. He'll never hear him. Not? Com. I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye Red as 'twould burn Rome; and his injury The gaoler to his pity. I kneel'd before him: 'Twas very faintly he said, Rise; dismiss'd me Thus, with his speechless hand: What he would-do, He sent in writing after me; what he would not, Unless his noble mother, and his wife; Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him For mercy to his country. Therefore, let's hence, And with our fair entreaties haste them on. [Exeunt. SCENE II. An advanced Post of the Volcian Camp before Rome. The Guard at their Stations. Enter to them, MENENIUS. 1 G. Stay: Whence are you? 2 G. Stand, and go back. Men. You guard like men; 'tis well: But, by your 1 G. You may not pass, you must return: our ge neral Will no more hear from thence. 2 G. You'll see your Rome embrac'd with fire, before You'll speak with Coriolanus. Men. Good my friends, If you have heard your general talk of Rome, |