| ACT V SCENE III. Entrance of the Volscian camp before Rome. |
| [Enter CORIOLANUS, AUFIDIUS, and others] |
| CORIOLANUS | We will before the walls of Rome tomorrow |
| Set down our host. My partner in this action, |
| You must report to the Volscian lords, how plainly |
| I have borne this business. |
| AUFIDIUS | Only their ends | 5 |
| You have respected; stopp'd your ears against |
| The general suit of Rome; never admitted |
| A private whisper, no, not with such friends |
| That thought them sure of you. |
| CORIOLANUS | This last old man, | 10 |
| Whom with a crack'd heart I have sent to Rome, |
| Loved me above the measure of a father; |
| Nay, godded me, indeed. Their latest refuge |
| Was to send him; for whose old love I have, |
| Though I show'd sourly to him, once more offer'd | 15 |
| The first conditions, which they did refuse |
| And cannot now accept; to grace him only |
| That thought he could do more, a very little |
| I have yielded to: fresh embassies and suits, |
| Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafter | 20 |
| Will I lend ear to. Ha! what shout is this? |
[Shout within] |
| Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow |
| In the same time 'tis made? I will not. |
[
Enter in mourning habits, VIRGILIA, VOLUMNIA,
leading young MARCIUS, VALERIA, and Attendants
] |
| My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mould |
| Wherein this trunk was framed, and in her hand | 25 |
| The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affection! |
| All bond and privilege of nature, break! |
| Let it be virtuous to be obstinate. |
| What is that curt'sy worth? or those doves' eyes, |
| Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not | 30 |
| Of stronger earth than others. My mother bows; |
| As if Olympus to a molehill should |
| In supplication nod: and my young boy |
| Hath an aspect of intercession, which |
| Great nature cries 'Deny not.' let the Volsces | 35 |
| Plough Rome and harrow Italy: I'll never |
| Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand, |
| As if a man were author of himself |
| And knew no other kin. |
| VIRGILIA | My lord and husband! | 40 |
| CORIOLANUS | These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome. |
| VIRGILIA | The sorrow that delivers us thus changed |
| Makes you think so. |
| CORIOLANUS | Like a dull actor now, |
| I have forgot my part, and I am out, | 45 |
| Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh, |
| Forgive my tyranny; but do not say |
| For that 'Forgive our Romans.' O, a kiss |
| Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge! |
| Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss | 50 |
| I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip |
| Hath virgin'd it e'er since. You gods! I prate, |
| And the most noble mother of the world |
| Leave unsaluted: sink, my knee, i' the earth; |
[Kneels] |
| Of thy deep duty more impression show | 55 |
| Than that of common sons. |
| VOLUMNIA | O, stand up blest! |
| Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint, |
| I kneel before thee; and unproperly |
| Show duty, as mistaken all this while | 60 |
| Between the child and parent. |
| [Kneels] |
| CORIOLANUS | What is this? |
| Your knees to me? to your corrected son? |
| Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach |
| Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds | 65 |
| Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun; |
| Murdering impossibility, to make |
| What cannot be, slight work. |
| VOLUMNIA | Thou art my warrior; |
| I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady? | 70 |
| CORIOLANUS | The noble sister of Publicola, |
| The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle |
| That's curdied by the frost from purest snow |
| And hangs on Dian's temple: dear Valeria! |
| VOLUMNIA | This is a poor epitome of yours, | 75 |
| Which by the interpretation of full time |
| May show like all yourself. |
| CORIOLANUS | The god of soldiers, |
| With the consent of supreme Jove, inform |
| Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou mayst prove | 80 |
| To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' the wars |
| Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw, |
| And saving those that eye thee! |
| VOLUMNIA | Your knee, sirrah. |
| CORIOLANUS | That's my brave boy! | 85 |
| VOLUMNIA | Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself, |
| Are suitors to you. |
| CORIOLANUS | I beseech you, peace: |
| Or, if you'ld ask, remember this before: |
| The thing I have forsworn to grant may never | 90 |
| Be held by you denials. Do not bid me |
| Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate |
| Again with Rome's mechanics: tell me not |
| Wherein I seem unnatural: desire not |
| To ally my rages and revenges with | 95 |
| Your colder reasons. |
| VOLUMNIA | O, no more, no more! |
| You have said you will not grant us any thing; |
| For we have nothing else to ask, but that |
| Which you deny already: yet we will ask; | 100 |
| That, if you fail in our request, the blame |
| May hang upon your hardness: therefore hear us. |
| CORIOLANUS | Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark; for we'll |
| Hear nought from Rome in private. Your request? |
| VOLUMNIA | Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment | 105 |
| And state of bodies would bewray what life |
| We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself |
| How more unfortunate than all living women |
| Are we come hither: since that thy sight, |
| which should | 110 |
| Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance |
| with comforts, |
| Constrains them weep and shake with fear and sorrow; |
| Making the mother, wife and child to see |
| The son, the husband and the father tearing | 115 |
| His country's bowels out. And to poor we |
| Thine enmity's most capital: thou barr'st us |
| Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort |
| That all but we enjoy; for how can we, |
| Alas, how can we for our country pray. | 120 |
| Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory, |
| Whereto we are bound? alack, or we must lose |
| The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person, |
| Our comfort in the country. We must find |
| An evident calamity, though we had | 125 |
| Our wish, which side should win: for either thou |
| Must, as a foreign recreant, be led |
| With manacles thorough our streets, or else |
| triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin, |
| And bear the palm for having bravely shed | 130 |
| Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son, |
| I purpose not to wait on fortune till |
| These wars determine: if I cannot persuade thee |
| Rather to show a noble grace to both parts |
| Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner | 135 |
| March to assault thy country than to tread-- |
| Trust to't, thou shalt not--on thy mother's womb, |
| That brought thee to this world. |
| VIRGILIA | Ay, and mine, |
| That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name | 140 |
| Living to time. |
| Young MARCIUS | A' shall not tread on me; |
| I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I'll fight. |
| CORIOLANUS | Not of a woman's tenderness to be, |
| Requires nor child nor woman's face to see. | 145 |
| I have sat too long. |
| [Rising] |
| VOLUMNIA | Nay, go not from us thus. |
| If it were so that our request did tend |
| To save the Romans, thereby to destroy |
| The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us, | 150 |
| As poisonous of your honour: no; our suit |
| Is that you reconcile them: while the Volsces |
| May say 'This mercy we have show'd;' the Romans, |
| 'This we received;' and each in either side |
| Give the all-hail to thee and cry 'Be blest | 155 |
| For making up this peace!' Thou know'st, great son, |
| The end of war's uncertain, but this certain, |
| That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit |
| Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name, |
| Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses; | 160 |
| Whose chronicle thus writ: 'The man was noble, |
| But with his last attempt he wiped it out; |
| Destroy'd his country, and his name remains |
| To the ensuing age abhorr'd.' Speak to me, son: |
| Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour, | 165 |
| To imitate the graces of the gods; |
| To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' the air, |
| And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt |
| That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak? |
| Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man | 170 |
| Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speak you: |
| He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy: |
| Perhaps thy childishness will move him more |
| Than can our reasons. There's no man in the world |
| More bound to 's mother; yet here he lets me prate | 175 |
| Like one i' the stocks. Thou hast never in thy life |
| Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy, |
| When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood, |
| Has cluck'd thee to the wars and safely home, |
| Loaden with honour. Say my request's unjust, | 180 |
| And spurn me back: but if it be not so, |
| Thou art not honest; and the gods will plague thee, |
| That thou restrain'st from me the duty which |
| To a mother's part belongs. He turns away: |
| Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees. | 185 |
| To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride |
| Than pity to our prayers. Down: an end; |
| This is the last: so we will home to Rome, |
| And die among our neighbours. Nay, behold 's: |
| This boy, that cannot tell what he would have | 190 |
| But kneels and holds up bands for fellowship, |
| Does reason our petition with more strength |
| Than thou hast to deny 't. Come, let us go: |
| This fellow had a Volscian to his mother; |
| His wife is in Corioli and his child | 195 |
| Like him by chance. Yet give us our dispatch: |
| I am hush'd until our city be a-fire, |
| And then I'll speak a little. |
| [He holds her by the hand, silent] |
| CORIOLANUS | O mother, mother! |
| What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, | 200 |
| The gods look down, and this unnatural scene |
| They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O! |
| You have won a happy victory to Rome; |
| But, for your son,--believe it, O, believe it, |
| Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd, | 205 |
| If not most mortal to him. But, let it come. |
| Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars, |
| I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius, |
| Were you in my stead, would you have heard |
| A mother less? or granted less, Aufidius? | 210 |
| AUFIDIUS | I was moved withal. |
| CORIOLANUS | I dare be sworn you were: |
| And, sir, it is no little thing to make |
| Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir, |
| What peace you'll make, advise me: for my part, | 215 |
| I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and pray you, |
| Stand to me in this cause. O mother! wife! |
| AUFIDIUS | [Aside] I am glad thou hast set thy mercy and
|
| thy honour |
| At difference in thee: out of that I'll work | 220 |
| Myself a former fortune. |
| [The Ladies make signs to CORIOLANUS] |
| CORIOLANUS | Ay, by and by; |
[To VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, &c] |
| But we will drink together; and you shall bear |
| A better witness back than words, which we, |
| On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd. | 225 |
| Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve |
| To have a temple built you: all the swords |
| In Italy, and her confederate arms, |
| Could not have made this peace. |
| [Exeunt] |
Shakespeare's Sources for Coriolanus