| ACT III SCENE II. A room in Coriolanus's house. |
| [Enter CORIOLANUS with Patricians] |
| CORIOLANUS | Let them puff all about mine ears, present me |
| Death on the wheel or at wild horses' heels, |
| Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, |
| That the precipitation might down stretch |
| Below the beam of sight, yet will I still | 5 |
| Be thus to them. |
| A Patrician | You do the nobler. |
| CORIOLANUS | I muse my mother |
| Does not approve me further, who was wont |
| To call them woollen vassals, things created | 10 |
| To buy and sell with groats, to show bare heads |
| In congregations, to yawn, be still and wonder, |
| When one but of my ordinance stood up |
| To speak of peace or war. |
[Enter VOLUMNIA] |
| I talk of you: | 15 |
| Why did you wish me milder? would you have me |
| False to my nature? Rather say I play |
| The man I am. |
| VOLUMNIA | O, sir, sir, sir, |
| I would have had you put your power well on, | 20 |
| Before you had worn it out. |
| CORIOLANUS | Let go. |
| VOLUMNIA | You might have been enough the man you are, |
| With striving less to be so; lesser had been |
| The thwartings of your dispositions, if | 25 |
| You had not show'd them how ye were disposed |
| Ere they lack'd power to cross you. |
| CORIOLANUS | Let them hang. |
| A Patrician | Ay, and burn too. |
| [Enter MENENIUS and Senators] |
| MENENIUS | Come, come, you have been too rough, something | 30 |
| too rough; |
| You must return and mend it. |
| First Senator | There's no remedy; |
| Unless, by not so doing, our good city |
| Cleave in the midst, and perish. | 35 |
| VOLUMNIA | Pray, be counsell'd: |
| I have a heart as little apt as yours, |
| But yet a brain that leads my use of anger |
| To better vantage. |
| MENENIUS | Well said, noble woman? | 40 |
| Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but that |
| The violent fit o' the time craves it as physic |
| For the whole state, I would put mine armour on, |
| Which I can scarcely bear. |
| CORIOLANUS | What must I do? | 45 |
| MENENIUS | Return to the tribunes. |
| CORIOLANUS | Well, what then? what then? |
| MENENIUS | Repent what you have spoke. |
| CORIOLANUS | For them! I cannot do it to the gods; |
| Must I then do't to them? | 50 |
| VOLUMNIA | You are too absolute; |
| Though therein you can never be too noble, |
| But when extremities speak. I have heard you say, |
| Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends, |
| I' the war do grow together: grant that, and tell me, | 55 |
| In peace what each of them by the other lose, |
| That they combine not there. |
| CORIOLANUS | Tush, tush! |
| MENENIUS | A good demand. |
| VOLUMNIA | If it be honour in your wars to seem | 60 |
| The same you are not, which, for your best ends, |
| You adopt your policy, how is it less or worse, |
| That it shall hold companionship in peace |
| With honour, as in war, since that to both |
| It stands in like request? | 65 |
| CORIOLANUS | Why force you this? |
| VOLUMNIA | Because that now it lies you on to speak |
| To the people; not by your own instruction, |
| Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you, |
| But with such words that are but rooted in | 70 |
| Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables |
| Of no allowance to your bosom's truth. |
| Now, this no more dishonours you at all |
| Than to take in a town with gentle words, |
| Which else would put you to your fortune and | 75 |
| The hazard of much blood. |
| I would dissemble with my nature where |
| My fortunes and my friends at stake required |
| I should do so in honour: I am in this, |
| Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles; | 80 |
| And you will rather show our general louts |
| How you can frown than spend a fawn upon 'em, |
| For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard |
| Of what that want might ruin. |
| MENENIUS | Noble lady! | 85 |
| Come, go with us; speak fair: you may salve so, |
| Not what is dangerous present, but the loss |
| Of what is past. |
| VOLUMNIA | I prithee now, my son, |
| Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand; | 90 |
| And thus far having stretch'd it--here be with them-- |
| Thy knee bussing the stones--for in such business |
| Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant |
| More learned than the ears--waving thy head, |
| Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart, | 95 |
| 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, | 100 |
| 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; | 105 |
| For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free |
| As words to little purpose. |
| VOLUMNIA | Prithee now, |
| Go, and be ruled: although I know thou hadst rather |
| Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf | 110 |
| Than flatter him in a bower. Here is Cominius. |
| [Enter COMINIUS] |
| COMINIUS | I have been i' the market-place; and, sir,'tis fit |
| You make strong party, or defend yourself |
| By calmness or by absence: all's in anger. |
| MENENIUS | Only fair speech. | 115 |
| COMINIUS | I think 'twill serve, if he |
| Can thereto frame his spirit. |
| VOLUMNIA | He must, and will |
| Prithee now, say you will, and go about it. |
| CORIOLANUS | Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce? | 120 |
| Must I with base tongue give 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 market-place! | 125 |
| 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 prithee now, sweet son, as thou hast said |
| My praises made thee first a soldier, so, | 130 |
| 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, | 135 |
| 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 | 140 |
| Make motion through my lips, and my arm'd knees, |
| Who bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his |
| That hath received an alms! I will not do't, |
| Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth |
| And by my body's action teach my mind | 145 |
| 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 | 150 |
| 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: | 155 |
| Mother, I am going to the market-place; |
| Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves, |
| Cog their hearts from them, and come home beloved |
| Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going: |
| Commend me to my wife. I'll return consul; | 160 |
| 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 prepared | 165 |
| 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. | 170 |
| MENENIUS | Ay, but mildly. |
| CORIOLANUS | Well, mildly be it then. Mildly! |
| [Exeunt] |
Shakespeare's Sources for Coriolanus