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Front Page Titles (by Subject) Scene V.—: Corioli. A Public Place. - Coriolanus
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Scene V.—: Corioli. A Public Place. - William Shakespeare, Coriolanus [1623]Edition used:The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (The Oxford Shakespeare), ed. with a glossary by W.J. Craig M.A. (Oxford University Press, 1916).
Part of: The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (The Oxford Shakespeare)About Liberty Fund:Liberty Fund, Inc. is a private, educational foundation established to encourage the study of the ideal of a society of free and responsible individuals. Copyright information:The text is in the public domain. Fair use statement:This material is put online to further the educational goals of Liberty Fund, Inc. Unless otherwise stated in the Copyright Information section above, this material may be used freely for educational and academic purposes. It may not be used in any way for profit.
Scene V.—Corioli. A Public Place.EnterTullus 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, 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. Enter three or four Conspirators ofAufidius’ faction. Most welcome! First Con.How is it with our general? Auf.Even so As with a man by his own alms empoison’d, 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. 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. 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, 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 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 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 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: 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. 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, 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. 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 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. 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. 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 There was a yielding, this admits no excuse. Auf.He approaches: you shall hear him. EnterCoriolanus,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 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 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, 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. 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 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; 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 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. 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— 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, 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! 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. 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, 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! Conspirators.Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him! [Aufidiusand the Conspirators draw, and killCoriolanus,who falls:Aufidiusstands 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. 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 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; 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. 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; 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 ofCoriolanus.A dead march sounded. |

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