SCENE I. Rome. A public place. The Tragedy of Coriolanus  Shakespeare homepage  |  Coriolanus  | Act 2, Scene 1 

 Previous scene  |  Next scene  SCENE I. Rome. A public place. 

 Enter MENENIUS with the two Tribunes of the people, SICINIUS and BRUTUS.  MENENIUS  The augurer tells me we shall have news to-night. 

 BRUTUS  Good or bad? 

 MENENIUS  Not according to the prayer of the people, for they 

 love not Marcius. 

 SICINIUS  Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. 

 MENENIUS  Pray you, who does the wolf love? 

 SICINIUS  The lamb. 

 MENENIUS  Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the 

 noble Marcius. 

 BRUTUS  He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear. 

 MENENIUS  He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two 

 are old men: tell me one thing that I shall ask you. 

 Both  Well, sir. 

 MENENIUS  In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two 

 have not in abundance? 

 BRUTUS  He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all. 

 SICINIUS  Especially in pride. 

 BRUTUS  And topping all others in boasting. 

 MENENIUS  This is strange now: do you two know how you are 

 censured here in the city, I mean of us o' the 

 right-hand file? do you? 

 Both  Why, how are we censured? 

 MENENIUS  Because you talk of pride now,--will you not be angry? 

 Both  Well, well, sir, well. 

 MENENIUS  Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of 

 occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience: 

 give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at 

 your pleasures; at the least if you take it as a 

 pleasure to you in being so. You blame Marcius for 

 being proud? 

 BRUTUS  We do it not alone, sir. 

 MENENIUS  I know you can do very little alone; for your helps 

 are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous 

 single: your abilities are too infant-like for 

 doing much alone. You talk of pride: O that you 

 could turn your eyes toward the napes of your necks, 

 and make but an interior survey of your good selves! 

 O that you could! 

 BRUTUS  What then, sir? 

 MENENIUS  Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, 

 proud, violent, testy magistrates, alias fools, as 

 any in Rome. 

 SICINIUS  Menenius, you are known well enough too. 

 MENENIUS  I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that 

 loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying 

 Tiber in't; said to be something imperfect in 

 favouring the first complaint; hasty and tinder-like 

 upon too trivial motion; one that converses more 

 with the buttock of the night than with the forehead 

 of the morning: what I think I utter, and spend my 

 malice in my breath. Meeting two such wealsmen as 

 you are--I cannot call you Lycurguses--if the drink 

 you give me touch my palate adversely, I make a 

 crooked face at it. I can't say your worships have 

 delivered the matter well, when I find the ass in 

 compound with the major part of your syllables: and 

 though I must be content to bear with those that say 

 you are reverend grave men, yet they lie deadly that 

 tell you you have good faces. If you see this in 

 the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known 

 well enough too? what barm can your bisson 

 conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be 

 known well enough too? 

 BRUTUS  Come, sir, come, we know you well enough. 

 MENENIUS  You know neither me, yourselves nor any thing. You 

 are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs: you 

 wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a 

 cause between an orange wife and a fosset-seller; 

 and then rejourn the controversy of three pence to a 

 second day of audience. When you are hearing a 

 matter between party and party, if you chance to be 

 pinched with the colic, you make faces like 

 mummers; set up the bloody flag against all 

 patience; and, in roaring for a chamber-pot, 

 dismiss the controversy bleeding the more entangled 

 by your hearing: all the peace you make in their 

 cause is, calling both the parties knaves. You are 

 a pair of strange ones. 

 BRUTUS  Come, come, you are well understood to be a 

 perfecter giber for the table than a necessary 

 bencher in the Capitol. 

 MENENIUS  Our very priests must become mockers, if they shall 

 encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When 

 you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the 

 wagging of your beards; and your beards deserve not 

 so honourable a grave as to stuff a botcher's 

 cushion, or to be entombed in an ass's pack- 

 saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is proud; 

 who in a cheap estimation, is worth predecessors 

 since Deucalion, though peradventure some of the 

 best of 'em were hereditary hangmen. God-den to 

 your worships: more of your conversation would 

 infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly 

 plebeians: I will be bold to take my leave of you. 



 BRUTUS and SICINIUS go aside 

 Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and VALERIA  How now, my as fair as noble ladies,--and the moon, 

 were she earthly, no nobler,--whither do you follow 

 your eyes so fast? 

 VOLUMNIA  Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for 

 the love of Juno, let's go. 

 MENENIUS  Ha! Marcius coming home! 

 VOLUMNIA  Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosperous 

 approbation. 

 MENENIUS  Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee. Hoo! 

 Marcius coming home! 

 VOLUMNIA  VIRGILIA  Nay,'tis true. 

 VOLUMNIA  Look, here's a letter from him: the state hath 

 another, his wife another; and, I think, there's one 

 at home for you. 

 MENENIUS  I will make my very house reel tonight: a letter for 

 me! 

 VIRGILIA  Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw't. 

 MENENIUS  A letter for me! it gives me an estate of seven 

 years' health; in which time I will make a lip at 

 the physician: the most sovereign prescription in 

 Galen is but empiricutic, and, to this preservative, 

 of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he 

 not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded. 

 VIRGILIA  O, no, no, no. 

 VOLUMNIA  O, he is wounded; I thank the gods for't. 

 MENENIUS  So do I too, if it be not too much: brings a' 

 victory in his pocket? the wounds become him. 

 VOLUMNIA  On's brows: Menenius, he comes the third time home 

 with the oaken garland. 

 MENENIUS  Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly? 

 VOLUMNIA  Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but 

 Aufidius got off. 

 MENENIUS  And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that: 

 an he had stayed by him, I would not have been so 

 fidiused for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold 

 that's in them. Is the senate possessed of this? 

 VOLUMNIA  Good ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes; the senate 

 has letters from the general, wherein he gives my 

 son the whole name of the war: he hath in this 

 action outdone his former deeds doubly 

 VALERIA  In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him. 

 MENENIUS  Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without his 

 true purchasing. 

 VIRGILIA  The gods grant them true! 

 VOLUMNIA  True! pow, wow. 

 MENENIUS  True! I'll be sworn they are true. 

 Where is he wounded? 



 To the Tribunes  God save your good worships! Marcius is coming 

 home: he has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded? 

 VOLUMNIA  I' the shoulder and i' the left arm there will be 

 large cicatrices to show the people, when he shall 

 stand for his place. He received in the repulse of 

 Tarquin seven hurts i' the body. 

 MENENIUS  One i' the neck, and two i' the thigh,--there's 

 nine that I know. 

 VOLUMNIA  He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five 

 wounds upon him. 

 MENENIUS  Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave. 



 A shout and flourish  Hark! the trumpets. 

 VOLUMNIA  These are the ushers of Marcius: before him he 

 carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears: 

 Death, that dark spirit, in 's nervy arm doth lie; 

 Which, being advanced, declines, and then men die. 



 A sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter COMINIUS the  general, and TITUS LARTIUS; between them, CORIOLANUS,  crowned with an oaken garland; with Captains and Soldiers, and a Herald  Herald  Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight 

 Within Corioli gates: where he hath won, 

 With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these 

 In honour follows Coriolanus. 

 Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! 



 Flourish  All  Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! 

 CORIOLANUS  No more of this; it does offend my heart: 

 Pray now, no more. 

 COMINIUS  Look, sir, your mother! 

 CORIOLANUS  O, 

 You have, I know, petition'd all the gods 

 For my prosperity! 



 Kneels  VOLUMNIA  Nay, my good soldier, up; 

 My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and 

 By deed-achieving honour newly named,-- 

 What is it?--Coriolanus must I call thee?-- 

 But O, thy wife! 

 CORIOLANUS  My gracious silence, hail! 

 Wouldst thou have laugh'd had I come coffin'd home, 

 That weep'st to see me triumph? Ay, my dear, 

 Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear, 

 And mothers that lack sons. 

 MENENIUS  Now, the gods crown thee! 

 CORIOLANUS  And live you yet? 



 To VALERIA  O my sweet lady, pardon. 

 VOLUMNIA  I know not where to turn: O, welcome home: 

 And welcome, general: and ye're welcome all. 

 MENENIUS  A hundred thousand welcomes. I could weep 

 And I could laugh, I am light and heavy. Welcome. 

 A curse begin at very root on's heart, 

 That is not glad to see thee! You are three 

 That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith of men, 

 We have some old crab-trees here 

 at home that will not 

 Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors: 

 We call a nettle but a nettle and 

 The faults of fools but folly. 

 COMINIUS  Ever right. 

 CORIOLANUS  Menenius ever, ever. 

 Herald  Give way there, and go on! 

 CORIOLANUS  [To VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA]  Your hand, and yours: 

 Ere in our own house I do shade my head, 

 The good patricians must be visited; 

 From whom I have received not only greetings, 

 But with them change of honours. 

 VOLUMNIA  I have lived 

 To see inherited my very wishes 

 And the buildings of my fancy: only 

 There's one thing wanting, which I doubt not but 

 Our Rome will cast upon thee. 

 CORIOLANUS  Know, good mother, 

 I had rather be their servant in my way, 

 Than sway with them in theirs. 

 COMINIUS  On, to the Capitol! 



 Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before. BRUTUS and SICINIUS come forward  BRUTUS  All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights 

 Are spectacled to see him: your prattling nurse 

 Into a rapture lets her baby cry 

 While she chats him: the kitchen malkin pins 

 Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck, 

 Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks, windows, 

 Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges horsed 

 With variable complexions, all agreeing 

 In earnestness to see him: seld-shown flamens 

 Do press among the popular throngs and puff 

 To win a vulgar station: or veil'd dames 

 Commit the war of white and damask in 

 Their nicely-gawded cheeks to the wanton spoil 

 Of Phoebus' burning kisses: such a pother 

 As if that whatsoever god who leads him 

 Were slily crept into his human powers 

 And gave him graceful posture. 

 SICINIUS  On the sudden, 

 I warrant him consul. 

 BRUTUS  Then our office may, 

 During his power, go sleep. 

 SICINIUS  He cannot temperately transport his honours 

 From where he should begin and end, but will 

 Lose those he hath won. 

 BRUTUS  In that there's comfort. 

 SICINIUS  Doubt not 

 The commoners, for whom we stand, but they 

 Upon their ancient malice will forget 

 With the least cause these his new honours, which 

 That he will give them make I as little question 

 As he is proud to do't. 

 BRUTUS  I heard him swear, 

 Were he to stand for consul, never would he 

 Appear i' the market-place nor on him put 

 The napless vesture of humility; 

 Nor showing, as the manner is, his wounds 

 To the people, beg their stinking breaths. 

 SICINIUS  'Tis right. 

 BRUTUS  It was his word: O, he would miss it rather 

 Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him, 

 And the desire of the nobles. 

 SICINIUS  I wish no better 

 Than have him hold that purpose and to put it 

 In execution. 

 BRUTUS  'Tis most like he will. 

 SICINIUS  It shall be to him then as our good wills, 

 A sure destruction. 

 BRUTUS  So it must fall out 

 To him or our authorities. For an end, 

 We must suggest the people in what hatred 

 He still hath held them; that to's power he would 

 Have made them mules, silenced their pleaders and 

 Dispropertied their freedoms, holding them, 

 In human action and capacity, 

 Of no more soul nor fitness for the world 

 Than camels in the war, who have their provand 

 Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows 

 For sinking under them. 

 SICINIUS  This, as you say, suggested 

 At some time when his soaring insolence 

 Shall touch the people--which time shall not want, 

 If he be put upon 't; and that's as easy 

 As to set dogs on sheep--will be his fire 

 To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze 

 Shall darken him for ever. 



 Enter a Messenger  BRUTUS  What's the matter? 

 Messenger  You are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis thought 

 That Marcius shall be consul: 

 I have seen the dumb men throng to see him and 

 The blind to bear him speak: matrons flung gloves, 

 Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers, 

 Upon him as he pass'd: the nobles bended, 

 As to Jove's statue, and the commons made 

 A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts: 

 I never saw the like. 

 BRUTUS  Let's to the Capitol; 

 And carry with us ears and eyes for the time, 

 But hearts for the event. 

 SICINIUS  Have with you. 



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