Act IV, Scene v:
Antium. A hall in AUFIDIUS'S house.

[Music within. Enter A SERVANT.]

FIRST SERVANT:

Wine, wine, wine! What service is here!

I think our fellows are asleep.

[Exit.]

[Enter a second SERVANT.]

SECOND SERVANT:

Where's Cotus? my master calls for him.—Cotus!

[Exit.]

[Enter CORIOLANUS.]

CORIOLANUS:

A goodly house: the feast smells well; but I

Appear not like a guest.

[Re-enter the first SERVANT.]

FIRST SERVANT:

What would you have, friend? whence are you? Here's no place for

you: pray go to the door.

CORIOLANUS:

I have deserv'd no better entertainment

In being Coriolanus.

[Re-enter second SERVANT.]

SECOND SERVANT:

Whence are you, sir? Has the porter his eyes in his head that he

gives entrance to such companions? Pray, get you out.

CORIOLANUS:

Away!

SECOND SERVANT:

Away? Get you away.

CORIOLANUS:

Now the art troublesome.

SECOND SERVANT:

Are you so brave? I'll have you talked with anon.

[Enter a third SERVANT. The first meets him.]

THIRD SERVANT:

What fellow's this?

FIRST SERVANT:

A strange one as ever I looked on: I cannot get him

out o' the house. Pr'ythee call my master to him.

THIRD SERVANT:

What have you to do here, fellow? Pray you avoid the house.

CORIOLANUS:

Let me but stand; I will not hurt your hearth.

THIRD SERVANT:

What are you?

CORIOLANUS:

A gentleman.

THIRD SERVANT:

A marvellous poor one.

CORIOLANUS:

True, so I am.

THIRD SERVANT:

Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other station; here's no

place for you. Pray you avoid; come.

CORIOLANUS:

Follow your function, go,

And batten on cold bits.

[Pushes him away.]

THIRD SERVANT:

What, you will not?—Pr'ythee, tell my master what a strange

guest he has here.

SECOND SERVANT:

And I shall.

[Exit.]

THIRD SERVANT:

Where dwell'st thou?

CORIOLANUS:

Under the canopy.

THIRD SERVANT:

Under the canopy?

CORIOLANUS:

Ay.

THIRD SERVANT:

Where's that?

CORIOLANUS:

I' the city of kites and crows.

THIRD SERVANT:

I' the city of kites and crows!—What an ass it is!—Then thou

dwell'st with daws too?

CORIOLANUS:

No, I serve not thy master.

THIRD SERVANT:

How, sir! Do you meddle with my master?

CORIOLANUS:

Ay; 'tis an honester service than to meddle with thy mistress.

Thou prat'st and prat'st; serve with thy trencher, hence!

[Beats him away.]

[Enter AUFIDIUS and the second SERVANT.]

AUFIDIUS:

Where is this fellow?

SECOND SERVANT:

Here, sir; I'd have beaten him like a dog, but for

disturbing the lords within.

AUFIDIUS:

Whence com'st thou? what wouldst thou? thy name?

Why speak'st not? speak, man: what's thy name?

CORIOLANUS:

[Unmuffling.] If, Tullus,

Not yet thou know'st me, and, seeing me, dost not

Think me for the man I am, necessity

Commands me name myself.

AUFIDIUS:

What is thy name?

[Servants retire.]

CORIOLANUS:

A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears,

And harsh in sound to thine.

AUFIDIUS:

Say, what's thy name?

Thou has a grim appearance, and thy face

Bears a command in't; though thy tackle's torn,

Thou show'st a noble vessel: what's thy name?

CORIOLANUS:

Prepare thy brow to frown:—know'st thou me yet?

AUFIDIUS:

I know thee not:—thy name?

CORIOLANUS:

My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done

To thee particularly, and to all the Volsces,

Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may

My surname, Coriolanus: the painful service,

The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood

Shed for my thankless country, are requited

But with that surname; a good memory,

And witness of the malice and displeasure

Which thou shouldst bear me: only that name remains;

The cruelty and envy of the people,

Permitted by our dastard nobles, who

Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest,

And suffer'd me by the voice of slaves to be

Whoop'd out of Rome. Now, this extremity

Hath brought me to thy hearth: not out of hope,

Mistake me not, to save my life; for if

I had fear'd death, of all the men i' the world

I would have 'voided thee; but in mere spite,

To be full quit of those my banishers,

Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast

A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge

Thine own particular wrongs, and stop those maims

Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee straight

And make my misery serve thy turn: so use it

That my revengeful services may prove

As benefits to thee; for I will fight

Against my canker'd country with the spleen

Of all the under fiends. But if so be

Thou dar'st not this, and that to prove more fortunes

Th'art tir'd, then, in a word, I also am

Longer to live most weary, and present

My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice;

Which not to cut would show thee but a fool,

Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate,

Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast,

And cannot live but to thy shame, unless

It be to do thee service.

AUFIDIUS:

O Marcius, Marcius!

Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart

A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter

Should from yond cloud speak divine things,

And say ''Tis true,' I'd not believe them more

Than thee, all noble Marcius.—Let me twine

Mine arms about that body, where against

My grained ash an hundred times hath broke

And scar'd the moon with splinters; here I clip

The anvil of my sword, and do contest

As hotly and as nobly with thy love

As ever in ambitious strength I did

Contend against thy valour. Know thou first,

I lov'd the maid I married; never man

Sighed truer breath; but that I see thee here,

Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart

Than when I first my wedded mistress saw

Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell thee

We have a power on foot; and I had purpose

Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn,

Or lose mine arm for't: thou hast beat me out

Twelve several times, and I have nightly since

Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me;

We have been down together in my sleep,

Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat,

And wak'd half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius,

Had we no other quarrel else to Rome, but that

Thou art thence banish'd, we would muster all

From twelve to seventy; and, pouring war

Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,

Like a bold flood o'erbear. O, come, go in,

And take our friendly senators by the hands;

Who now are here, taking their leaves of me,

Who am prepar'd against your territories,

Though not for Rome itself.

CORIOLANUS:

You bless me, gods!

AUFIDIUS:

Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt have

The leading of thine own revenges, take

Th' one half of my commission; and set down,—

As best thou art experienc'd, since thou know'st

Thy country's strength and weakness,—thine own ways;

Whether to knock against the gates of Rome,

Or rudely visit them in parts remote,

To fright them, ere destroy. But come in;

Let me commend thee first to those that shall

Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes!

And more a friend than e'er an enemy;

Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand: most welcome!

[Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS.]

FIRST SERVANT:

Here's a strange alteration!

SECOND SERVANT:

By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with a cudgel; and

yet my mind gave me his clothes made a false report of him.

FIRST SERVANT:

What an arm he has! He turned me about with his finger and his

thumb, as one would set up a top.

SECOND SERVANT:

Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in him; he had,

sir, a kind of face, methought,—I cannot tell how to term it.

FIRST SERVANT:

He had so, looking as it were,—would I were hanged, but I

thought there was more in him than I could think.

SECOND SERVANT:

So did I, I'll be sworn: he is simply the rarest man i' the

world.

FIRST SERVANT:

I think he is; but a greater soldier than he you wot on.

SECOND SERVANT:

Who, my master?

FIRST SERVANT:

Nay, it's no matter for that.

SECOND SERVANT:

Worth six on him.

FIRST SERVANT:

Nay, not so neither: but I take him to be the greater soldier.

SECOND SERVANT:

Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that: for the defence

of a town our general is excellent.

FIRST SERVANT:

Ay, and for an assault too.

[Re-enter third SERVANT.]

THIRD SERVANT:

O slaves, I can tell you news,—news, you rascals!

FIRST and SECOND SERVANT.

What, what, what? let's partake.

THIRD SERVANT:

I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as lief be a

condemned man.

FIRST and SECOND SERVANT.

Wherefore? wherefore?

THIRD SERVANT:

Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our general,—Caius

Marcius.

FIRST SERVANT:

Why do you say, thwack our general?

THIRD SERVANT:

I do not say thwack our general; but he was always good enough

for him.

SECOND SERVANT:

Come, we are fellows and friends: he was ever too hard for him; I

have heard him say so himself.

FIRST SERVANT:

He was too hard for him directly, to say the troth on't; before

Corioli he scotched him and notched him like a carbonado.

SECOND SERVANT:

An he had been cannibally given, he might have broiled and eaten

him too.

FIRST SERVANT:

But more of thy news?

THIRD SERVANT:

Why, he is so made on here within as if he were son and heir to

Mars; set at upper end o' the table: no question asked him by any

of the senators but they stand bald before him: our general

himself makes a mistress of him, sanctifies himself with's hand,

and turns up the white o' the eye to his discourse. But the

bottom of the news is, our general is cut i' the middle, and but

one half of what he was yesterday; for the other has half, by the

entreaty and grant of the whole table. He'll go, he says, and

sowl the porter of Rome gates by the ears; he will mow all down

before him, and leave his passage polled.

SECOND SERVANT:

And he's as like to do't as any man I can imagine.

THIRD SERVANT:

Do't! he will do't; for look you, sir, he has as many friends as

enemies; which friends, sir, as it were, durst not, look you,

sir, show themselves, as we term it, his friends, whilst he's in

dejectitude.

FIRST SERVANT:

Dejectitude! what's that?

THIRD SERVANT:

But when they shall see, sir, his crest up again, and the man in

blood, they will out of their burrows, like conies after rain,

and revel all with him.

FIRST SERVANT:

But when goes this forward?

THIRD SERVANT:

To-morrow; to-day; presently; you shall have the drum struck up

this afternoon: 'tis as it were parcel of their feast, and to be

executed ere they wipe their lips.

SECOND SERVANT:

Why, then we shall have a stirring world again. This peace is

nothing but to rust iron, increase tailors, and breed

ballad-makers.

FIRST SERVANT:

Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as day does

night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is

a very apoplexy, lethargy; mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a

getter of more bastard children than war's a destroyer of men.

SECOND SERVANT:

'Tis so: and as war in some sort, may be said to be a ravisher,

so it cannot be denied but peace is a great maker of cuckolds.

FIRST SERVANT:

Ay, and it makes men hate one another.

THIRD SERVANT:

Reason: because they then less need one another. The wars for my

money. I hope to see Romans as cheap as Volscians. They are

rising, they are rising.

ALL:

In, in, in, in!

[Exeunt.]