Act IV · Scene I
Rome. Before a gate of the city.
Hover a speech to translate it — or press play to hear it performed.
Enter CORIOLANUS, VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, MENENIUS, COMINIUS, with the young Nobility of Rome
CORIOLANUS
Come, leave your tears: a brief farewell: the beastWith many heads butts me away. Nay, mother,Where is your ancient courage? you were usedTo say extremity was the trier of spirits;That common chances common men could bear;That when the sea was calm all boats alikeShow'd mastership in floating; fortune's blows,When most struck home, being gentle wounded, cravesA noble cunning: you were used to load meWith precepts that would make invincibleThe heart that conn'd them.
VIRGILIA
O heavens! O heavens!
CORIOLANUS
Nay! prithee, woman,--
VOLUMNIA
Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome,And occupations perish!
CORIOLANUS
What, what, what!I shall be loved when I am lack'd. Nay, mother.Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say,If you had been the wife of Hercules,Six of his labours you'ld have done, and savedYour husband so much sweat. Cominius,Droop not; adieu. Farewell, my wife, my mother:I'll do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius,Thy tears are salter than a younger man's,And venomous to thine eyes. My sometime general,I have seen thee stem, and thou hast oft beheldHeart-hardening spectacles; tell these sad women'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes,As 'tis to laugh at 'em. My mother, you wot wellMy hazards still have been your solace: andBelieve't not lightly--though I go alone,Like to a lonely dragon, that his fenMakes fear'd and talk'd of more than seen--your sonWill or exceed the common or be caughtWith cautelous baits and practise.
VOLUMNIA
My first son.Whither wilt thou go? Take good CominiusWith thee awhile: determine on some course,More than a wild exposture to each chanceThat starts i' the way before thee.
CORIOLANUS
O the gods!
COMINIUS
I'll follow thee a month, devise with theeWhere thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of usAnd we of thee: so if the time thrust forthA cause for thy repeal, we shall not sendO'er the vast world to seek a single man,And lose advantage, which doth ever coolI' the absence of the needer.
CORIOLANUS
Fare ye well:Thou hast years upon thee; and thou art too fullOf the wars' surfeits, to go rove with oneThat's yet unbruised: bring me but out at gate.Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, andMy friends of noble touch, when I am forth,Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come.While I remain above the ground, you shallHear from me still, and never of me aughtBut what is like me formerly.
MENENIUS
That's worthilyAs any ear can hear. Come, let's not weep.If I could shake off but one seven yearsFrom these old arms and legs, by the good gods,I'ld with thee every foot.
CORIOLANUS
Give me thy hand: Come.
Exeunt