Reference > William Shakespeare > The Oxford Shakespeare > Coriolanus
William Shakespeare (1564–1616).  The Oxford Shakespeare.  1914.
Act V. Scene V.
Corioli.  A Public Place.
Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, with Attendants.
  Auf.  Go tell the lords o’ the city I am here:
Deliver them this paper: having read it,
Bid them repair to the market-place; where I,        5
Even in theirs and in the commons’ ears,
Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse
The city ports by this hath enter’d, and
Intends to appear before the people, hoping
To purge himself with words: dispatch.  [Exeunt Attendants.        10
Enter three or four Conspirators of AUFIDIUS’ faction.
Most welcome!
  First Con.  How is it with our general?
  Auf.        Even so
As with a man by his own alms empoison’d,        15
And with his charity slain.
  Sec. Con.        Most noble sir,
If you do hold the same intent wherein
You wish’d us parties, we’ll deliver you
Of your great danger.        20
  Auf.        Sir, I cannot tell:
We must proceed as we do find the people.
  Third Con.  The people will remain uncertain whilst
’Twixt you there’s difference; but the fall of either
Makes the survivor heir of all.        25
  Auf.        I know it;
And my pretext to strike at him admits
A good construction. I rais’d him, and I pawn’d
Mine honour for his truth: who being so heighten’d,
He water’d his new plants with dews of flattery,        30
Seducing so my friends; and, to this end,
He bow’d his nature, never known before
But to be rough, unswayable, and free.
  Third Con.  Sir, his stoutness
When he did stand for consul, which he lost        35
By lack of stooping,—
  Auf.        That I would have spoke of:
Being banish’d for ’t, he came unto my hearth;
Presented to my knife his throat: I took him;
Made him joint-servant with me; gave him way        40
In all his own desires; nay, let him choose
Out of my files, his projects to accomplish,
My best and freshest men; serv’d his designments
In mine own person; holp to reap the fame
Which he did end all his; and took some pride        45
To do myself this wrong: till, at the last,
I seem’d his follower, not partner; and
He wag’d me with his countenance, as if
I had been mercenary.
  First Con.        So he did, my lord:        50
The army marvell’d at it; and, in the last,
When we had carried Rome, and that we look’d
For no less spoil than glory,—
  Auf.        There was it;
For which my sinews shall be stretch’d upon him.        55
At a few drops of women’s rheum, which are
As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour
Of our great action: therefore shall he die,
And I’ll renew me in his fall. But, hark!  [Drums and trumpets sound, with great shouts of the People.
  First Con.  Your native town you enter’d like a post,        60
And had no welcomes home; but he returns,
Splitting the air with noise.
  Sec. Con.        And patient fools,
Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear
With giving him glory.        65
  Third Con.        Therefore, at your vantage,
Ere he express himself, or move the people
With what he would say, let him feel your sword,
Which we will second. When he lies along,
After your way his tale pronounc’d shall bury        70
His reasons with his body.
  Auf.        Say no more:
Here come the lords.
Enter the Lords of the city.
  Lords.  You are most welcome home.        75
  Auf.        I have not deserv’d it.
But, worthy lords, have you with heed perus’d
What I have written to you?
  Lords.        We have.
  First Lord.                And grieve to hear ’t.        80
What faults he made before the last, I think
Might have found easy fines; but there to end
Where he was to begin, and give away
The benefit of our levies, answering us
With our own charge, making a treaty where        85
There was a yielding, this admits no excuse.
  Auf.  He approaches: you shall hear him.
Enter CORIOLANUS, with drums and colours; a crowd of Citizens with him.
  Cor.  Hail, lords! I am return’d your soldier;
No more infected with my country’s love        90
Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting
Under your great command. You are to know,
That prosperously I have attempted and
With bloody passage led your wars even to
The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home        95
Do more than counterpoise a full third part
The charges of the action. We have made peace
With no less honour to the Antiates
Than shame to the Romans; and we here deliver,
Subscrib’d by the consuls and patricians,        100
Together with the seal o’ the senate, what
We have compounded on.
  Auf.        Read it not, noble lords;
But tell the traitor in the highest degree
He hath abus’d your powers.        105
  Cor.  Traitor! How now?
  Auf.        Ay, traitor, Marcius.
  Cor.                Marcius!
  Auf.  Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius. Dost thou think
I’ll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol’n name        110
Coriolanus in Corioli?
You lords and heads of the state, perfidiously
He has betray’d your business, and given up,
For certain drops of salt, your city Rome,
I say ‘your city,’ to his wife and mother;        115
Breaking his oath and resolution like
A twist of rotten silk, never admitting
Counsel o’ the war, but at his nurse’s tears
He whin’d and roar’d away your victory,
That pages blush’d at him, and men of heart        120
Look’d wondering each at other.
  Cor.        Hear’st thou, Mars?
  Auf.  Name not the god, thou boy of tears.
  Cor.        Ha!
  Auf.  No more.        125
  Cor.  Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart
Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave!
Pardon me, lords, ’tis the first time that ever
I was forc’d to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords,
Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion—        130
Who wears my stripes impress’d upon him, that
Must bear my beating to his grave—shall join
To thrust the lie unto him.
  First Lord.  Peace, both, and hear me speak.
  Cor.  Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and lads,        135
Stain all your edges on me. Boy! False hound!
If you have writ your annals true, ’tis there,
That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I
Flutter’d your Volscians in Corioli:
Alone I did it. Boy!        140
  Auf.        Why, noble lords,
Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune,
Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart,
’Fore your own eyes and ears?
  Conspirators.        Let him die for ’t.        145
  All the People.  Tear him to pieces.—Do it presently.—He killed my son.—My daughter.—He killed my cousin Marcus.—He killed my father.
  Sec. Lord.  Peace, ho! no outrage: peace!
The man is noble and his fame folds in
This orb o’ the earth. His last offences to us
Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius,        150
And trouble not the peace.
  Cor.        O! that I had him,
With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe,
To use my lawful sword!
  Auf.        Insolent villain!        155
  Conspirators.  Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him!  [AUFIDIUS and the Conspirators draw, and kill CORIOLANUS, who falls: AUFIDIUS stands on his body.
  Lords.        Hold, hold, hold, hold!
  Auf.  My noble masters, hear me speak.
  First Lord.        O Tullus!
  Sec. Lord.  Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep.        160
  Third Lord.  Tread not upon him. Masters all, be quiet.
Put up your swords.
  Auf.  My lords, when you shall know,—as in this rage,
Provok’d by him, you cannot,—the great danger
Which this man’s life did owe you, you’ll rejoice        165
That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours
To call me to your senate, I’ll deliver
Myself your loyal servant, or endure
Your heaviest censure.
  First Lord.        Bear from hence his body;        170
And mourn you for him! Let him be regarded
As the most noble corse that ever herald
Did follow to his urn.
  Sec. Lord.        His own impatience
Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.        175
Let’s make the best of it.
  Auf.        My rage is gone,
And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up:
Help, three o’ the chiefest soldiers; I’ll be one.
Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully;        180
Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he
Hath widow’d and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail the injury,
Yet he shall have a noble memory.
Assist.  [Exeunt, bearing the body of CORIOLANUS.  A dead march sounded.        185

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