Coriolanus A Tragedy |
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| 1. | SCENE I. |
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 | Coriolanus |  |
SCENE I.
Trumpets sounding.The Scene discovers the Camp, a Croud of Volscian Officers with Files of Soldiers, drawn up as before. Enter Coriolanus, Tullus, Galesus, Volusius. The Roman Ladies advance slowly from the Depth of the Stage, with Veturia the Mother of Coriolanus, and Volumnia his Wife, at their Head, all clad in Habits of Mourning. Coriolanus stands at the Head of the Volsci, surrounded by his Lictors; but, when he perceives his Mother and Wife, after some Struggle, he advances, and goes hastily to embrace them.
Coriolanus
advancing.
Lower your Fasces, Lictors—
Oh Veturia!
Thou best of Parents!
Veturia.
Coriolanus, stop.
Whom am I to embrace? A Son, or Foe?
Say, in what Light am I regarded here?
Thy Mother, or thy Captive?
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Justly, Madam,
You check my Fondness, that, by Nature hurry'd,
Forgot I was the General of the Volsci,
And you a Deputy from hostile Rome.
[He goes back to his former Station.
I hear you with Respect. Speak your Commission.
Veturia.
Think not I come a Deputy from Rome.
Rome, once rejected, scorns a Second Suit.
You have already heard whate'er the Tongue
Of Eloquence can plead, whate'er the Wisdom
Of sacred Age, the Dignity of Senates,
And Virtue, can enforce. Behold me here,
Sent by the Shades of your immortal Fathers,
Sent by the Genius of the Marcian Line,
Commission'd by my own maternal Heart,
To try the soft, yet stronger Powers of Nature.
Thus authoriz'd, I ask, nay, claim a Peace,
On equal, fair, and honourable Terms,
To Thee, to Rome, and to the Volscian People.
Grant it, my Son! Thy Mother begs it of thee,
Thy Wife, the best, the kindest of her Sex,
And these illustrious Matrons, who have sooth'd
The gloomy Hours thou hast been absent from us.
We, by whate'er is great and good in Nature,
By every Duty, by the Gods, conjure Thee!
To grant us Peace, and turn on other Foes
Thy Arms, where thou may'st purchase virtuous Glory.
Coriolanus.
I should, Veturia, break those holy Bonds
That hold the wide Republic of Mankind,
Society, together; I should grow
A Wretch, unworthy to be call'd thy Son;
I should, with my Volumnia's fair Esteem,
Forfeit her Love; these Matrons would despise me—
Could I betray the Volscian Cause, thus trusted,
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You cannot sure, you cannot ask it of me!
Veturia.
And does my Son so little know me? me!
Who took such Care to form his tender Years,
Left to my Conduct by his dying Father?
Have I so ill deserv'd that Trust? Alas!
Am I so low in thy Esteem, that thou
Should'st e'er imagine I could urge a Part
Which in the least might stain the Marcian Honour?
No, let me perish rather! perish All!
Life has no Charms compar'd to spotless Glory!
I only ask, thou would'st forbid thy Troops
To waste our Lands, and to assault yon City,
Till Time be given for mild and righteous Measures.
Grant us but One Year's Truce: Mean while thou may'st,
With Honour and Advantage to both Nations,
Betwixt us mediate a perpetual Peace.
Coriolanus.
Alas! my Mother! That were granting all.
Veturia.
Canst thou refuse me such a just Petition,
The First Request thy Mother ever made Thee?
Canst thou to her Intreaties, Prayers, and Tears,
Prefer a savage obstinate Revenge?
Have Love and Nature lost all Power within thee?
Coriolanus.
No,—in my Heart they reign as strong as ever.
Come, I conjure you, quit ungrateful Rome,
Come, and complete my Happiness at Antium,
You, and my dear Volumnia—There, Veturia,
There shall you see with what Respect the Volsci
Will treat the Wife and Mother of their General.
Veturia.
Treat me thyself with more Respect, my Son;
Nor dare to shock my Ears with such Proposals.
Shall I desert my Country, I who come
To plead her Cause? Ah no!—A Grave in Rome
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How hast thou thus forsaken all my Precepts?
How hast thou thus forgot thy Love to Rome?
O Coriolanus, when with hostile Arms,
With Fire and Sword, you enter'd on our Borders,
Did not the fostering Air, that breathes around us,
Allay thy guilty Fury, and instil
A certain native Sweetness thro' thy Soul?
Did not your Heart thus murmur to itself?
“These Walls contain whatever can command
“Respect from Virtue, or is dear to Nature,
“The Monuments of Piety and Valour,
“The sculptur'd Forms, the Trophies of my Fathers,
“My houshold Gods, my Mother, Wife and Children!”
Coriolanus.
Ah! you seduce me with too tender Views!—
These Walls contain the most corrupt of Men,
A base seditious Herd; who trample Order,
Distinction, Justice, Laws, beneath their Feet,
Insolent Foes to Worth, the Foes of Virtue!
Veturia.
Thou hast not thence a Right to lift thy Hand
Against the whole Community, which forms
Thy ever-sacred Country—That consists
Not of coeval Citizens alone:
It knows no Bounds; it has a Retrospect
To Ages past; it looks on those to come;
And grasps of all the general Worth and Virtue.
Suppose, my Son, that I to thee had been
A harsh obdurate Parent, even unjust:
How would the monstrous Thought with Horror strike thee,
Of plunging, from Revenge, thy raging Steel
Into her Breast, who nurs'd thy infant Years!—
Coriolanus.
Rome is no more! that Rome which nurs'd my Youth;
That Rome, conducted by Patrician Virtue,
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These Sons of Pride and Dirt! Her upstart Tyrants!
Who have debas'd the noblest State on Earth
Into a sordid Democratic Faction.
Why will my Mother join her Cause to theirs?
Veturia.
Forbid it, Jove! that I should e'er distinguish
My Interest from the general Cause of Rome;
Or live to see a foreign hostile Arm
Reform th'Abuses of our Land of Freedom.
[Pausing.
But 'tis in vain, I find, to reason more.
Is there no way to reach thy filial Heart,
Once fam'd as much for Piety as Courage?
Oft hast thou justly triumph'd, Coriolanus;
Now yield one Triumph to thy widow'd Mother;
And send me back amidst the loud Acclaims,
The grateful Transports of deliver'd Rome,
The happiest far, the most renown'd of Women!
Coriolanus.
Why, why, Veturia, wilt thou plead in vain?
[Tullus. Aside to Volusius.
See, see, Volusius, how the strong Emotions
Of powerful Nature shake his inmost Soul!
See how they tear him.—If he long resists them,
He is a God, or something worse than Man.
Veturia.
O Marcius, Marcius! canst thou treat me thus?
Canst thou complain of Rome's Ingratitude,
Yet be to me so cruelly ungrateful?
To me! who anxious rear'd thy Youth to Glory?
Whose only Joy, these many Years, has been,
To boast that Coriolanus was my Son?
And dost thou then renounce me for thy Mother?
Spurn me before these Chiefs, before those Soldiers,
That weep thy stubborn Cruelty? Art thou
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Look at me! Speak!
[Pausing, during which he appears in great Agitation.
Still dost thou turn away?
Inexorable? Silent?—Then, behold me,
Behold thy Mother, at whose Feet thou oft
Hast kneel'd with Fondness, kneeling now at thine,
Wetting thy stern Tribunal with her Tears.
Coriolanus.
[Raises her.
Veturia, rise. I cannot see Thee thus.
It is a Sight uncomely, to behold
My Mother at my Feet, and that to urge
A Suit, relentless Honour must refuse.
Volumnia.
[Advancing.
Since, Coriolanus, thou dost still retain,
In spite of all thy Mother now has pleaded,
Thy dreadful Purpose, Ah! how much in vain
Were it for me to join my Supplications!
The Voice of thy Volumnia, once so pleasing
How shall it hope to touch the Husband's Heart,
When proof against the Tears of such a Parent?
I dare not urge what to thy Mother thou
So firmly hast deny'd—But I must weep—
Must weep, if not thy harsh Severity,
At least thy Situation. O permit me,
[Taking his Hand.
To shed my gushing Tears upon thy Hand!
To press it with the cordial Lips of Love!
And take my last Farewel!
Coriolanus.
Yet, yet, my Soul,
Be firm, and persevere—
Volumnia.
Ah Coriolanus!
Is then this Hand, this Hand to me devoted,
The Pledge of Nuptial Love, that has so long
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Now lifted up against us? Yet I love it,
And, with submissive Veneration, bow
Beneath th'Affliction which it heaps upon us.
But O! what nobler Transports would it give thee!
What Joy beyond Expression! couldst thou once
Surmount the furious Storm of fierce Revenge,
And yield thee to the Charms of Love and Mercy.
Oh make the glorious Trial!
Coriolanus.
Mother! Wife!
Are all the Powers of Nature leagu'd against me?
I cannot!—will not!—Leave me, my Volumnia!
Volumnia.
Well, I obey—How bitter thus to part!
Upon such Terms to part! perhaps for ever!—
But tell me, ere I hence unroot my Feet,
When to my lonely Home I shall return,
What from their Father, to our little Slaves,
Unconscious of the Shame to which you doom them,
What shall I say?
[Pausing; He highly agitated.
Nay tell me, Coriolanus!
Coriolanus.
Tell thee! What shall I tell thee? See these Tears!
These Tears will tell thee what exceeds the Power
Of Words to speak, whate'er the Son, the Husband,
And Father, in one complicated Pang,
Can feel—But leave me;—even in Pity leave me!
Cease, cease, to torture me, my dear Volumnia!
You only tear my Heart; but cannot shake it:
For by th'immortal Gods, the dread Avengers
Of broken Faith!—
Volumnia.
[Kneeling.
Oh swear not, Coriolanus!
Oh vow not our Destruction!
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Daughter, rise.
Let us no more before the Volsian People
Expose ourselves a Spectacle of Shame.
It is in vain we try to melt a Breast,
That, to the best Affections Nature gives us,
Prefers the worst—Hear me, proud Man! I have
A Heart as stout as thine. I came not hither,
To be sent back rejected, baffled, sham'd,
Hateful to Rome, because I am Thy Mother:
A Roman Matron knows, in such Extremes,
What Part to take—And thus I came provided.
[Drawing from under her Robe a Dagger.
Go! barbarous Son! go! double Parricide!
Rush o'er my Corse to thy belov'd Revenge!
Tread on the bleeding Breast of her, to whom
Thou ow'st thy Life!—Lo, thy first Victim!
Coriolanus.
[Seizing her Hand.
Ha!
What dost thou mean?
Veturia.
To die, while Rome is free,
To seize the Moment ere thou art her Tyrant.
Coriolanus.
O use thy Power more justly! Set not thus
My treacherous Heart in Arms against my Reason.
Here! here! thy Dagger will be well employ'd;
Strike here! and reconcile my fighting Duties.
Veturia.
Off!—Set me free!—Think'st thou that Grasp, which binds
My feeble Hand, can fetter too my Will?
No, my proud Son! Thou canst not make me live,
If Rome must fall!—No Pow'r on Earth can do it!
Coriolanus.
Pity me, generous Volsci!—You are Men—
Must it then be?—Confusion!—Do I yield?
What is it? Is it Weakness? Is it Virtue?—
Well!—
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What? Speak!
Coriolanus.
O, no!—my stifled Words refuse
A Passage to the Throes that wring my Heart.
Veturia.
Nay, if thou yieldest, yield like Coriolanus;
And what thou do'st, do nobly!
Coriolanus.
[Quitting her Hand.
There!—'Tis done!—
Thine is the Triumph, Nature!
[To Veturia in a low Tone of Voice.
Ah Veturia!
Rome by thy Aid is sav'd—but thy Son lost.
Veturia.
He never can be lost, who saves his Country.
Coriolanus.
[Turning to the Roman Ladies.
Ye Matrons, Guardians of the Roman Safety,
You to the Senate may report this Answer.
We grant the Truce you ask. But on these Terms:
That Rome, mean-time, shall to a Peace agree,
Fair, equal, just, and such as may secure
The Safety, Rights, and Honour of the Volsci.
[To the Troops.
Volsci, We raise the Siege. Go, and prepare,
By the first Dawn, for your Return to Antium.
[As the Troops retire, and Coriolanus turns to the Roman Ladies;
Tullus.
[To Volusius aside.
'Tis as we wish'd, Volusius—To your Station.
But mark me well—Till thou shalt hear my Call,
I charge thee not to stir. One Offer more
My Honour bids me make to this proud Man,
Before we strike the Blow—If he rejects it,
His Blood be on his Head.
Volusius.
Well! I obey you.
[He goes out.
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Be it thy Care, Galesus, that a Safeguard
Attend these noble Matrons back to Rome.
| Coriolanus | |