| ACT IV SCENE I. Rome. Before a gate of the city. |
| [
Enter CORIOLANUS, VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, MENENIUS,
COMINIUS, with the young Nobility of Rome
] |
| CORIOLANUS | Come, leave your tears: a brief farewell: the beast |
| With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother, |
| Where is your ancient courage? you were used |
| To say extremity was the trier of spirits; |
| That common chances common men could bear; | 5 |
| 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 used to load me |
| With precepts that would make invincible | 10 |
| The heart that conn'd them. |
| VIRGILIA | O heavens! O heavens! |
| CORIOLANUS | Nay! prithee, woman,-- |
| VOLUMNIA | Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome, |
| And occupations perish! | 15 |
| CORIOLANUS | What, what, what! |
| I shall be loved 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'ld have done, and saved | 20 |
| 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 sometime general, | 25 |
| I have seen thee stem, and thou hast oft beheld |
| Heart-hardening 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 | 30 |
| 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 practise. | 35 |
| VOLUMNIA | My first son. |
| Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius |
| With thee awhile: determine on some course, |
| More than a wild exposture to each chance |
| That starts i' the way before thee. | 40 |
| CORIOLANUS | O the gods! |
| COMINIUS | I'll follow thee a month, devise with thee |
| Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us |
| And we of thee: so if the time thrust forth |
| A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send | 45 |
| O'er the vast world to seek a single man, |
| And lose advantage, which doth ever cool |
| I' the absence of the needer. |
| CORIOLANUS | Fare ye well: |
| Thou hast years upon thee; and thou art too full | 50 |
| Of the wars' surfeits, to go rove with one |
| That's yet unbruised: bring me but out at gate. |
| Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and |
| My friends of noble touch, when I am forth, |
| Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come. | 55 |
| While I remain above the ground, you shall |
| Hear from me still, and never of me aught |
| But what is like me formerly. |
| MENENIUS | That's worthily |
| As any ear can hear. Come, let's not weep. | 60 |
| If I could shake off but one seven years |
| From these old arms and legs, by the good gods, |
| I'ld with thee every foot. |
| CORIOLANUS | Give me thy hand: Come. |
| [Exeunt] |
Shakespeare's Sources for Coriolanus