More learned than the ears,—waving 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 soldier, and, being bred in broils,
Hast not the soft way which, thou dost confess,
Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim,
In asking their good loves; but thou wilt frame
Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far
As thou hast power and person.
MENENIUS.
This but done
Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours:
For they have pardons, being ask’d, as free
As words to little purpose.
VOLUMNIA.
Pr’ythee now,
Go, and be rul’d; although I know thou had’st rather
Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf
Than flatter him in a bower.
[Enter COMINIUS.]
Here is Cominius.
COMINIUS.
I have been i’ the marketplace; and, sir, ‘tis fit
You make strong party, or defend yourself
By calmness or by absence: all’s in anger.
MENENIUS.
Only fair speech.
COMINIUS.
I think ‘twill serve, if he
Can thereto frame his spirit.
VOLUMNIA.
He must, and will.—
Pr’ythee now, say you will, and go about it.
CORIOLANUS.
Must I go show them my unbarb’d sconce? must I
With my base tongue, give to my noble heart
A lie, that it must bear? Well, I will do’t:
Yet, were there but this single plot to lose,
This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grind it,
And throw’t against the wind.—To the marketplace:—
You have put me now to such a part which never
I shall discharge to the life.
COMINIUS.
Come, come, we’ll prompt you.
VOLUMNIA.
I pr’ythee now, sweet son,—as thou hast said
My praises made thee first a soldier, so,
To have my praise for this, perform a part
Thou hast not done before.
CORIOLANUS.
Well, I must do’t:
Away, my disposition, and possess me
Some harlot’s spirit! My throat of war be turn’d,
Which quired with my drum, into a pipe
Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice
That babies lulls asleep! the smiles of knaves
Tent in my cheeks; and schoolboys’ tears take up
The glasses of my sight! a beggar’s tongue
Make motion through my lips; and my arm’d knees,
Who bow’d but in my stirrup, bend like his
That hath receiv’d an alms!—I will not do’t;
Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth,
And by my body’s action teach my mind
A most inherent baseness.
VOLUMNIA.
At thy choice, then:
To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour
Than thou of them. Come all to ruin: let
Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear
Thy dangerous stoutness; for I mock at death
With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list.
Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck’dst it from me;
But owe thy pride thyself.
CORIOLANUS.
Pray, be content:
Mother, I am going to the marketplace;
Chide me no more. I’ll mountebank their loves,
Cog their hearts from them, and come home belov’d
Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going.
Commend me to my wife. I’ll return consul;
Or never trust to what my tongue can do
I’ the way of flattery further.
VOLUMNIA.
Do your will.
[Exit.]
COMINIUS.
Away! The tribunes do attend you: arm yourself
To answer mildly; for they are prepar’d
With accusations, as I hear, more strong
Than are upon you yet.
CORIOLANUS.
The word is, mildly.—Pray you let us go:
Let them accuse me by invention, I
Will answer in mine honour.
MENENIUS.
Ay, but mildly.
CORIOLANUS.
Well, mildly be it then; mildly.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. Rome. The Forum.
[Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS.]
BRUTUS.
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 AEDILE.]
What, will he come?
AEDILE.
He’s coming.
BRUTUS.
How accompanied?
AEDILE.
With old Menenius, and those senators
That always favour’d him.
SICINIUS.
Have you a catalogue
Of all the voices that we have procur’d,
Set down by the poll?
AEDILE.
I have; ‘tis ready.
SICINIUS.
Have you collected them by tribes?
AEDILE.
I have.
SICINIUS.
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