Act V · Scene I
Rome. A public place.
Hover a speech to translate it — or press play to hear it performed.
Enter MENENIUS, COMINIUS, SICINIUS, BRUTUS, and others
MENENIUS
No, I'll not go: you hear what he hath saidWhich was sometime his general; who loved himIn a most dear particular. He call'd me father:But what o' that? Go, you that banish'd him;A mile before his tent fall down, and kneeThe way into his mercy: nay, if he coy'dTo hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home.
COMINIUS
He would not seem to know me.
MENENIUS
Do you hear?
COMINIUS
Yet one time he did call me by my name:I urged our old acquaintance, and the dropsThat we have bled together. CoriolanusHe would not answer to: forbad all names;He was a kind of nothing, titleless,Till he had forged himself a name o' the fireOf burning Rome.
MENENIUS
Why, so: you have made good work!A pair of tribunes that have rack'd for Rome,To make coals cheap,--a noble memory!
COMINIUS
I minded him how royal 'twas to pardonWhen it was less expected: he replied,It was a bare petition of a stateTo one whom they had punish'd.
MENENIUS
Very well:Could he say less?
COMINIUS
I offer'd to awaken his regardFor's private friends: his answer to me was,He could not stay to pick them in a pileOf noisome musty chaff: he said 'twas folly,For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt,And still to nose the offence.
MENENIUS
For one poor grain or two!I am one of those; his mother, wife, his child,And this brave fellow too, we are the grains:You are the musty chaff; and you are smeltAbove the moon: we must be burnt for you.
SICINIUS
Nay, pray, be patient: if you refuse your aidIn this so never-needed help, yet do notUpbraid's with our distress. But, sure, if youWould be your country's pleader, your good tongue,More than the instant army we can make,Might stop our countryman.
MENENIUS
No, I'll not meddle.
SICINIUS
Pray you, go to him.
MENENIUS
What should I do?
BRUTUS
Only make trial what your love can doFor Rome, towards Marcius.
MENENIUS
Well, and say that MarciusReturn me, as Cominius is return'd,Unheard; what then?But as a discontented friend, grief-shotWith his unkindness? say't be so?
SICINIUS
Yet your good willmust have that thanks from Rome, after the measureAs you intended well.
MENENIUS
I'll undertake 't:I think he'll hear me. Yet, to bite his lipAnd hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me.He was not taken well; he had not dined:The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and thenWe pout upon the morning, are unaptTo give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'dThese and these conveyances of our bloodWith wine and feeding, we have suppler soulsThan in our priest-like fasts: therefore I'll watch himTill he be dieted to my request,And then I'll set upon him.
BRUTUS
You know the very road into his kindness,And cannot lose your way.
MENENIUS
Good faith, I'll prove him,Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledgeOf my success.
Exit
COMINIUS
He'll never hear him.
SICINIUS
Not?
COMINIUS
I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eyeRed as 'twould burn Rome; and his injuryThe gaoler to his pity. I kneel'd before him;'Twas very faintly he said 'Rise;' dismiss'd meThus, with his speechless hand: what he would do,He sent in writing after me; what he would not,Bound with an oath to yield to his conditions:So that all hope is vain.Unless his noble mother, and his wife;Who, as I hear, mean to solicit himFor mercy to his country. Therefore, let's hence,And with our fair entreaties haste them on.
Exeunt