 | The Ingratitude of a Common-Wealth : Or, the fall of Laius Martius Coriolanus |  |
ACT the Second.
FLOURISH.Enter Coriolanus in Triumph, met by the Nobility and Commons of Rome.
Cor.
No more of This, it does Offend my Ears;
No More I Pray.
Com.
Look Sir, your Wife and Honoured Mother.
Enter Volumnia, and Virgilia.
Cor.
Oh Madam! By the Event I know you have
Petition'd All the Gods on my Behalf;
And next the Gods, I pay you thus my Duty.
Vol.
Nay my good Souldier Rise,
My Valiant Caius, Worthy Coriolanus;
Not Thee this Pomp, but Thou Adorn'st thy Tryumph:
What now Virgilia?
Cor.
Oh my tender Dove!
My gentle Silence hail; What Means this Dew?
Wou'dst thou have Laugh'd, had I come Coffin'd Home,
That Weep'st to see me Tryumph: Ah! My Love,
Such Eyes the Widdows in Corioles Wear,
And Mothers that Lack Sons.
Virg.
Ah my Dear Lord, What Means that Dismal Scarf?
My Joy lies folded There!
Vol.
I know not where to Turn;
Oh! Wellcome General, most Wellcome All:
Men.
Ten Thousand Wellcomes; wellcome All:
A Curse begin at very Roots on's Heart,
That is not Glad to See you; yet have we
Some base Repiners at this Joy; No matter,
We call a Nettle but a Nettle, and
The Faults of Fools but Folly.
Cor.
The same Menenius ever.
Com.
Blunt and Honest, Lead.
Cor.
Your Hand and Yours:
Yet 'ere in our own House, I shade my Head,
The good Patricians must be Waited on;
I had rather be Their Servant in my Way,
Than Rule with them in Theirs.
Com.
On to the Capitol.
[Exeunt.
Manent Tribunes.
Bru.
All Tongues speak of Him, and the feeble Sights
Are Spectacled to see Him: Pratling Nurses,
Into a Rupture let their Infants Cry,
Chatting of Him; the dowdy Maukin pins
Her Lockrum on, and clambers Walls to View him:
Stalls, Gall'ries, Windows, All are Smother'd up,
Leads Fill'd, and Ridges Hors'd: The Reverend Flamens
Amongst the Crowd, Press for a Vulgar Station,
As at the Approach of some Descended God,
He cannot Temperat'ly bear his Honours;
But will himself Destroy what he has VVon.
Sic.
There Rests our Hope,
Doubt not the Commoners, for whom we stand,
Upon their antient Malice will forget,
On the least Cause, his most Applauded Service.
Bru.
I heard him Swear, were he to Stand for Consul,
He never wou'd Appear i'th' Market place,
In the vile Garment of Humility;
And shewing (as the Custom is) his VVounds
To th'People, nor wou'd Beg their stinking Breaths.
It was his Word:
I Wish no Better, than to have him hold
That Purpose.
Bru.
We must Suggest to th'People, in what Hatred
He still has Held 'em: That to his Pow'r, he wou'd
Have made 'em Mules, and Silenc't Us, their Pleaders;
That he Esteems no better of 'em, than
As Cammels of the War, that have their Provender
For bearing Burdens, Blows for Sinking under 'em.
Sic.
This (as you say) Suggested
At some Time, when his soaring Insolence
Shall Fret the People, which will surely happen,
If he be put upon't; and That's as easy,
As to set Dogs at Sheep; he bears the Fire
To kindle their dry Stubble, and the Blaze
Shall Darken him for Ever.
Bru.
His Pow'r, or Ours, must Sleep: Away to the Capitol.
[Exeunt.
Scene Opening, shews the Senate sitting in the Capitol; Coriolanus in a White Robe, as Candidate for the Consulship.
1 Sen.
Sit Coriolanus, never Blush to Hear
What You have Nobly done.
Cor.
Your Honours Pardon,
I had rather have my Wounds to Heal again,
Than Hear say, how I got 'em.
Bru.
I Hope my Lord, my Words have not Displac't you.
Cor.
No Sir; yet oft,
When Blows have made me stay, I have Fled from Words:
You did not Flatter me;
Therefore cou'd not Displease me; but your People,
I Love 'em as they Weigh—
[Exit.
Com.
The Deeds of Coriolanus, Honour'd Fathers,
Shou'd not be Feebly spoke; and Breath wou'd Fail me
To tell the Half: If Valour be with Romans,
The Chiefest Virtue, Martius has no Equal:
When Tarquin first made Head; at Sixteen Years,
An 'ore prest Roman, in the Consul's Sight;
Slew Three Opposers, Tarquin's self Encounter'd,
And Struck Him on his Knee; in that Days Toil,
When He might Act a Woman in the Scene,
He prov'd Best Man o'th' Field; and for his Service,
Was Crown'd before the Camp; Grown up to Strength,
The Matchless Youth, prov'd yet more Wondrous Man;
And in the Brunt of Seventeen Battels since
Monopoliz'd the Garland; for this last,
Before, and in, Corioles:
I cannot Speak him Home; He stopt the Flyers,
And by his Rare Example made the Coward,
Turn Terrour into Sport; his Sword, Death's Stamp,
Where it did Fall, it took from Face to Foot:
He was a Thing of Blood; almost alone
He Forc't Corioles, came Aidless off,
And Leading, Waiting Death, from Town to Camp:
He Gave no Respight to his Panting Brest,
Till we cou'd Call both Field and Citty Ours.
1 Sen.
We Yield him Worthy of the Consulship:
Summon Him in.
Com.
Be pleas'd to Hear
What yet Exceeds all this; Our Spoils He Slighted,
And Look't on the Seiz'd Treasures, as they were
The common Muck o'th' World; he Covets less,
Than Misery it self wou'd give, Rewards
His Deeds with doing 'em, Accounts 'em only
As Pledges of more Services to come.
1 Sen.
Summon Him in.
Enter Coriolanus
Men.
The Senate Coriolanus are well Pleas'd
To make Thee Consul.
Cor.
I owe 'em still my Life and Services.
Men.
It now Remains, that you Bespeak the People.
Cor.
I do Beseech your Honours
Put on the Gown, stand Publick, and Entreat 'em
For my Wounds sake, to give their Suffrages;
Please you that I may pass this Ceremony.
Bru.
The Custom may in no wise be infring'd.
Sic.
The Peoples Liberties Depend upon't,
And no particular must be Dispenc't with.
Men.
We do Solicit from your Spleens no Favour,
Put 'em not to't, my Lord, but stoop to th'Custom,
And take t'you, as your Predecessors have,
This Dear-bought Honour, with the usual Forms.
Cor.
It is a Part, that I shall Blush in Acting;
Methinks the People well might spare this Method;
Better Constrain'd to do it.
Sic.
Mark you That?
Cor.
To Brag to 'em, that I did Thus and Thus,
Shew 'em unaking Scars, which I shou'd Hide,
As if I had Receiv'd 'em for the Hire
Of their vile Breath!
Men.
Pray do not stand upon't.
1 Sen.
Tribunes by You, we Recommend to the People,
Our Noble Choice, and to our worthy Consul,
We Wish all Joy and Honour. Call the Lictors,
And Bid the Fasces move.
[Exeunt.
Sic.
You see how he intends to Treat the Commons.
Bru.
May they perceive's Intent; He'll Beg of 'em,
As if he did Contemn, what he Requested,
And Scorn the Givers.
Sic.
We'll Inform 'em so;
Let's Hasten to the Forum, where I know,
They Wait Us with Impatience.
[Exeunt.
SCENE the Street.
Enter the Citizens in vast Number.
1 Cit.
Well Neighbours, for once (if he Require our Voices)
we ought not to Deny him.
We may Sir, if we will.
1 Cit.
I Grant you, we have a Pow'r in our selves to do it;
but it is such a Power, as we have no Power to do: For if he
shew us his Wounds, we are likewise to shew our Feeling of
those Wounds; so if he tells us his Noble Deeds, we must also
tell him our Noble Acceptance of 'em: Ingratitude is Monstrous,
and for the Multitude to be Ingrateful, were to make a Monster
of the Multitude, of which, we being Members, shou'd bring our
selves to be Monstrous Members.
2 Cit.
Right; so, when we stood up once about the Corn, he
himself stuck not to Call us the Many-headed Multitude.
1 Cit.
We have been call'd so of Many. Well, we are All Resolv'd
(the greater Part of Us) to give him our Voices. If he Lov'd
the People, there never was a Worthier Man; therefore, he
shall have your Voices?
All.
All, all, all,
1 Cit.
But look you, to my Knowledge he Hates the People,
And therefore you All Deny him your Voices?
All.
All, all, all, &c.
Enter Coriolanus, in the Robe of Humility, Menenius with him.
1 Cit.
Look, here he comes in the Robe of Humility: Mark his
Behaviour; Observe me Neighbours, we are not to Advance altogether;
but to come to him where he stands, by One's, by Two's,
and by Three's; then is he to make his Request by Particulars,
wherein every one of us has a single Honour, in giving Him our
own Voices, with our own Tongues; therefore follow me, and I'll
shew you the Trick on't.
All.
Content, content.
Men.
Oh! Sir you are not Right in this, you know
The Worthyest Men have don't.
Cor.
What must I say? I pray Sir? Plague upon't,
I cannot bring my Tongue to such Tune:
Look Sir, my Wounds
I got 'em in my Country's Service, when
Some, Certain of your Brethren Roar'd, and Ran
From the Noise of our own Drums.
O Gods! You must not speak of this,
You must Desire 'em Sir, to Think upon you.
Cor.
Think on me? Hang 'em,
I wou'd they wou'd Forget me, like their Pray'rs.
Men.
You will Marr All; I'll leave you;
Beseech you speak to 'em in the Mildest manner.
Cor.
Hell! Bid 'em Wash their Faces,
And keep their Teeth Clean: so, here comes a Brace;
You know the Cause Sir of my standing here.
1 Cit.
We do Sir; therefore Desire you tell us what brought
you hither.
Cor.
My own Desert.
2 Cit.
Your own Desert!
Cor.
But not my own Desire.
3 Cit.
How! Not your own Desire.
Cor.
No Sir,
It never yet was my Desire to Trouble
The Poor with Begging.
1 Cit.
You must think Sir, if we give you any thing, it is in
Hope to Gain by you.
Cor.
Well, Then your Price o'th' Consulship?
1 Cit.
The Price is, to Ask it Kindly.
Cor.
Then Kind Sir, let me have it, I have Wounds to shew,
Which shall be yours in Private: Your good Voice Sir,
What say You?
2 Cit.
You have it Worthy Sir.
Cor.
A Match Sir; so, There's in All, two Worthy Voices
Begg'd; I have your Alms, Adieu.
Enter Two more.
Cor.
Pray now, If it may stand with the Tune of your good
Voices, that I may be Consul? I have here the Customary
Gown.
3 Cit.
You have Deserv'd Nobly of your Country, and you
have not Deserv'd Nobly.
Cor.
Your Enigma?
3 Cit.
You have been a Scourge to Her Enemies, and a Rod
Cor.
You shou'd Account me the more Virtuous for't,
That I have not been Common in my Love.
Therefore let me be Consul.
4 Cit.
Well, We Hope to find you our Friend yet; and therefore
give you our Voices.
Cor.
Agreed Sir, better 'tis to Dye, to Starve,
Than Beg the Hire, for which we first did Serve:
This Imposition is by Custom laid;
Must Custom then in All things be Obey'd?
The Dust on Antique Time, wou'd lye Unswept,
And Mountains Errour, be too highly Heapt
For Truth t'ore-peer; rather than Fool it so,
Let the High Office, and the Honour go
To one cou'd bear This—yet am I half through.
Here come more Judges.
Two more come forward.
Your Voices; for your Voices have I Fought;
Watch't for your Voices; for your Voices bear,
Of Wounds Two Dozen Odd: have for your Voices
Done many Things, some more, some less;
Your Voices then: Indeed I wou'd be Consul.
5 Cit.
The Truth is, You have Behav'd your self, as I shou'd
have done in the same Place; and therefore you shall have my
Voice, as I wou'd Expect it my self.
6 Cit.
Heav'n Bless our Noble Consul.
[Exeunt.
Cor.
Precious Voters.
Enter Menenius, with Brutus and Sicinius.
Men.
You have stood your Limitation, and the Tribunes
Endue you with the Peoples Choice.
It now remains, that in Robes of Honour,
You Wait upon the Senate.
Cor.
Is this done?
Sic.
The Custom of Request you have Discharg'd;
To Meet Anon upon your Approbation.
Cor.
Where? at the Senate-House.
Bru.
There Coriolanus.
Cor.
Then I may Shift these Garments?
Sic.
You may Sir.
Cor.
Good, then I'll Know my self again,
And hast to the Capitol.
Men.
I'll bear you Company; will you along.
Sic.
We stay here to Dismiss the People.
[Ex. Cor. Men.
He has it now, and by his Looks, Methinks
'Tis Warm at's Heart.
Bru.
With a Proud Heart, He Wore his humble Weeds:
Will you Dismiss the Crow'd.
Enter the Plebeians.
Sic.
How now my Masters, have you Chose this Man.
1 Cit.
He has our Voices Sir.
Bru.
We Pray the Gods He may Deserve your Kindness.
1 Cit.
The Gods, and We, are Agreed about that Matter already:
You say He's Proud. I say He call'd me Sir, and Carry'd himself
Like a most Civil Gentleman.
2 Cit.
To my Thinking, he Flouted us down-right.
1 Cit.
It is his kind of Speech, he has a Scurvy handsome Way
with him, that's the Truth on't.
Sic.
He shew'd You too, his Marks of Merit, Wounds
Receiv'd for's Country.
1 Cit.
He did so; I remember All, as well as the Wart on my
Nose.
2 All.
No, no, no Man saw 'em.
1 Cit.
Right, now I Remember better, I saw never a One of 'em:
The Gods send he have Any, I say: he said he Wounds for us,
I think some Eight or Ten Douzen; and Waving his Hand thus
in Scorn, I wou'd be Consul, sayes he, and Custom will not let me,
but by your Voices; I have need at present of your Voices; therefore
let me have your Voices; which when we Granted, I Thank you
for 'em (quoth he) and now you have left your Voices, I have no further
not find This to be meer Mockery.
Bru.
Why then were you so Stupid not to see't;
Or seeing it, so Senseless to Approve Him?
Sic.
Cou'd you not have told him,
As we had Taught you; That when he had no Pow'r,
But was a petty Servant to the State:
He was your Enemy, and ever spoke against
The Liberties and Charters, that you bear
I'th' Common-wealth; and being now Arriv'd
To a Place of Pow'r and Sway, if he shou'd still
Malignantly Remain your Foe;
Your Voices wou'd be Curses to your selves.
1 Cit.
I, so I told 'em, but their Hearts were as Hard as their
Forehead.
Bru.
Thus to have said, as you were Fore-instructed,
Had Touch't his Spirit, and Try'd his Inclination:
Had either Forc't from him a gracious Promise,
Which you might afterwards have Held him to,
Or else it wou'd have Gall'd his surly Nature:
And to such angry Mood Enrag'd him, that
You might have took Advantage of his Passion,
And pass'd him Unelected.
1 Cit.
I Told 'em that too. Well, He's not Confirm'd, and we
may Deny him yet.
2 Cit.
And will Deny him:
I have Five Hundred Voters of that Sound.
1 Cit.
I, Twice Five Hundred, with their Friends to Back 'em.
Bru.
Get you Hence Instantly, and tell those Friends,
They have Chose a Consul that will take from 'em
Their Liberties; make 'em of no more Voice
Than Dogs, that often are for Barking beaten,
Yet only Kept to Bark.
Sic.
Assemble therefore on a safer Judgement,
And All Revoke your Ignorant Election;
Enforce his Pride to shew his Hate; Forget not
With what Contempt he Wore the Custom'd Robe:
And Lastly, Lay the Fault on us your Tribunes.
I, Spare us not,
Say any thing whereby you may Revoke your suddain Choice;
And then, as soon as you have Drawn your Number,
Repair to the Capitol.
All.
We will so.
1 Cit.
And rather then Fail, we'll Swear every Man of us, we
never gave him our Consent. Away, away.
[Exeunt.
Bru.
Let 'em go on;
This Mutiny were better put in Hazzard,
Than Run a greater, and more certain Mischief:
If (as he surely will) he fall in Rage
With their Refusal, we'll be close at Hand,
To watch th'Advantage his blind Fury yeilds;
And from his own Spleen, work a Snare to Hold him.
[Exeunt.
| The Ingratitude of a Common-Wealth : Or, the fall of Laius Martius Coriolanus | |