Document:  All > Shakespeare > Tragedies > Coriolanus > Act IV, scene V

	[Music within. Enter a Servingman]

First Servingman: Wine, wine, wine! What service
	is here! I think our fellows are asleep.


	[Enter a second Servingman]

Second Servingman: Where's Cotus? my master calls
	for him. Cotus!



CORIOLANUS: A goodly house: the feast smells well; but I
	Appear not like a guest.

	[Re-enter the first Servingman]

First Servingman: What would you have, friend? whence are you?
	Here's no place for you: pray, go to the door.


CORIOLANUS: I have deserved no better entertainment,
	In being Coriolanus.

	[Re-enter second Servingman]

Second Servingman: Whence are you, sir? Has the porter his eyes in his
	head; that he gives entrance to such companions?
	Pray, get you out.


Second Servingman: Away! get you away.

CORIOLANUS: Now thou'rt troublesome.

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

	[Enter a third Servingman. The first meets him]

Third Servingman: What fellow's this?

First Servingman: A strange one as ever I looked on: I cannot get him
	out of the house: prithee, call my master to him.


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

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

Third Servingman: What are you?

CORIOLANUS: A gentleman.

Third Servingman: A marvellous poor one.

CORIOLANUS: True, so I am.

Third Servingman: 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 Servingman: What, you will not? Prithee, tell my master what a
	strange guest he has here.

Second Servingman: And I shall.


Third Servingman: Where dwellest thou?

CORIOLANUS: Under the canopy.

Third Servingman: Under the canopy!


Third Servingman: Where's that?

CORIOLANUS: I' the city of kites and crows.

Third Servingman: I' the city of kites and crows! What an ass it is!
	Then thou dwellest with daws too?

CORIOLANUS: No, I serve not thy master.

Third Servingman: How, sir! do you meddle with my master?

CORIOLANUS: Ay; 'tis an honester service than to meddle with thy
	mistress. Thou pratest, and pratest; serve with thy
	trencher, hence!

	[Beats him away. Exit third Servingman]

	[Enter AUFIDIUS with the second Servingman]

AUFIDIUS: Where is this fellow?

Second Servingman: Here, sir: I'ld have beaten him like a dog, but for
	disturbing the lords within.


AUFIDIUS: Whence comest thou? what wouldst thou? thy name?
	Why speak'st not? speak, man: what's thy name?



	Not yet thou knowest me, and, seeing me, dost not
	Think me for the man I am, necessity
	Commands me name myself.

AUFIDIUS: What is thy name?

CORIOLANUS: A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears,
	And harsh in sound to thine.

AUFIDIUS: Say, what's thy name?
	Thou hast 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 darest not this and that to prove more fortunes
	Thou'rt tired, 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'ld 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 scarr'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 loved the maid I married; never man
	Sigh'd 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 fort: 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 waked half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius,
	Had we no 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'er-bear. O, come, go in,
	And take our friendly senators by the hands;
	Who now are here, taking their leaves of me,
	Who am prepared 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
	The one half of my commission; and set down--
	As best thou art experienced, 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. The two
	Servingmen come forward]

First Servingman: Here's a strange alteration!

Second Servingman: 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 Servingman: What an arm he has! he turned me about with his
	finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top.

Second Servingman: 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 Servingman: He had so; looking as it were--would I were hanged,
	but I thought there was more in him than I could think.

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

First Servingman: I think he is: but a greater soldier than he you wot on.

Second Servingman: Who, my master?

First Servingman: Nay, it's no matter for that.

Second Servingman: Worth six on him.

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

Second Servingman: Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that:
	for the defence of a town, our general is excellent.

First Servingman: Ay, and for an assault too.

	[Re-enter third Servingman]

Third Servingman: O slaves, I can tell you news,-- news, you rascals!

First Servingman: |
	|  What, what, what? let's partake.
Second Servingman: |

Third Servingman: I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as
	lieve be a condemned man.

First Servingman: |
	|  Wherefore? wherefore?
Second Servingman: |

Third Servingman: Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our general,
	Caius Marcius.

First Servingman: Why do you say 'thwack our general '?

Third Servingman: I do not say 'thwack our general;' but he was always
	good enough for him.

Second Servingman: Come, we are fellows and friends: he was ever too
	hard for him; I have heard him say so himself.

First Servingman: He was too hard for him directly, to say the troth
	on't: before Corioli he scotched him and notched
	him like a carbon ado.

Second Servingman: An he had been cannibally given, he might have
	broiled and eaten him too.

First Servingman: But, more of thy news?

Third Servingman: 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 that 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 Servingman: And he's as like to do't as any man I can imagine.

Third Servingman: 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 directitude.

First Servingman: Directitude! what's that?

Third Servingman: 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

First Servingman: But when goes this forward?

Third Servingman: To-morrow; to-day; presently; you shall have the
	drum struck up this afternoon: 'tis, as it were, a
	parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they
	wipe their lips.

Second Servingman: Why, then we shall have a stirring world again.
	This peace is nothing, but to rust iron, increase
	tailors, and breed ballad-makers.

First Servingman: 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 Servingman: '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 Servingman: Ay, and it makes men hate one another.

Third Servingman: 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!



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