Coriolanus — Act 3, Scene 2 · Shakespeare for Bharat

CORIOLANUS

Let them puff all about mine ears, present meDeath on the wheel or at wild horses' heels,Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock,That the precipitation might down stretchBelow the beam of sight, yet will I stillBe thus to them.

A Patrician

You do the nobler.

CORIOLANUS

I muse my motherDoes not approve me further, who was wontTo call them woollen vassals, things createdTo buy and sell with groats, to show bare headsIn congregations, to yawn, be still and wonder,When one but of my ordinance stood upTo speak of peace or war.

CORIOLANUS

I talk of you:Why did you wish me milder? would you have meFalse to my nature? Rather say I playThe man I am.

VOLUMNIA

O, sir, sir, sir,I would have had you put your power well on,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 beenThe thwartings of your dispositions, ifYou had not show'd them how ye were disposedEre they lack'd power to cross you.

CORIOLANUS

Let them hang.

A Patrician

Ay, and burn too.

MENENIUS

Come, come, you have been too rough, somethingtoo rough;You must return and mend it.

First Senator

There's no remedy;Unless, by not so doing, our good cityCleave in the midst, and perish.

VOLUMNIA

Pray, be counsell'd:I have a heart as little apt as yours,But yet a brain that leads my use of angerTo better vantage.

MENENIUS

Well said, noble woman?Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but thatThe violent fit o' the time craves it as physicFor the whole state, I would put mine armour on,Which I can scarcely bear.

CORIOLANUS

What must I do?

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?

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,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 seemThe 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 peaceWith honour, as in war, since that to bothIt stands in like request?

CORIOLANUS

Why force you this?

VOLUMNIA

Because that now it lies you on to speakTo the people; not by your own instruction,Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you,But with such words that are but rooted inYour tongue, though but bastards and syllablesOf no allowance to your bosom's truth.Now, this no more dishonours you at allThan to take in a town with gentle words,Which else would put you to your fortune andThe hazard of much blood.I would dissemble with my nature whereMy fortunes and my friends at stake requiredI should do so in honour: I am in this,Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles;And you will rather show our general loutsHow you can frown than spend a fawn upon 'em,For the inheritance of their loves and safeguardOf what that want might ruin.

MENENIUS

Noble lady!Come, go with us; speak fair: you may salve so,Not what is dangerous present, but the lossOf what is past.

VOLUMNIA

I prithee now, my son,Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand;And thus far having stretch'd it--here be with them--Thy knee bussing the stones--for in such businessAction is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorantMore learned than the ears--waving thy head,Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart,Now humble as the ripest mulberryThat will not hold the handling: or say to them,Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broilsHast not the soft way which, thou dost confess,Were fit for thee to use as they to claim,In asking their good loves, but thou wilt frameThyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so farAs thou hast power and person.

MENENIUS

This but done,Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours;For they have pardons, being ask'd, as freeAs words to little purpose.

VOLUMNIA

Prithee now,Go, and be ruled: although I know thou hadst ratherFollow thine enemy in a fiery gulfThan flatter him in a bower. Here is Cominius.

COMINIUS

I have been i' the market-place; and, sir,'tis fitYou make strong party, or defend yourselfBy calmness or by absence: all's in anger.

MENENIUS

Only fair speech.

COMINIUS

I think 'twill serve, if heCan thereto frame his spirit.

VOLUMNIA

He must, and willPrithee now, say you will, and go about it.

CORIOLANUS

Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce?Must I with base tongue give my noble heartA 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 itAnd throw't against the wind. To the market-place!You have put me now to such a part which neverI shall discharge to the life.

COMINIUS

Come, come, we'll prompt you.

VOLUMNIA

I prithee now, sweet son, as thou hast saidMy praises made thee first a soldier, so,To have my praise for this, perform a partThou hast not done before.

CORIOLANUS

Well, I must do't:Away, my disposition, and possess meSome harlot's spirit! my throat of war be turn'd,Which quired with my drum, into a pipeSmall as an eunuch, or the virgin voiceThat babies lulls asleep! the smiles of knavesTent in my cheeks, and schoolboys' tears take upThe glasses of my sight! a beggar's tongueMake motion through my lips, and my arm'd knees,Who bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like hisThat hath received an alms! I will not do't,Lest I surcease to honour mine own truthAnd by my body's action teach my mindA most inherent baseness.

VOLUMNIA

At thy choice, then:To beg of thee, it is my more dishonourThan thou of them. Come all to ruin; letThy mother rather feel thy pride than fearThy dangerous stoutness, for I mock at deathWith as big heart as thou. Do as thou listThy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it from me,But owe thy pride thyself.

CORIOLANUS

Pray, be content: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 belovedOf all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going:Commend me to my wife. I'll return consul;Or never trust to what my tongue can doI' the way of flattery further.

VOLUMNIA

Do your will.

COMINIUS

Away! the tribunes do attend you: arm yourselfTo answer mildly; for they are preparedWith accusations, as I hear, more strongThan are upon you yet.

CORIOLANUS

The word is 'mildly.' Pray you, let us go:Let them accuse me by invention, IWill answer in mine honour.

MENENIUS

Ay, but mildly.

CORIOLANUS

Well, mildly be it then. Mildly!