The Complete Works of William Shakespeare · William Shakespeare
SCENE III. Rome. The Forum
Enter Sicinius and Brutus. BRUTUS. In this point charge him home, that he affects Tyrannical power. If he evade us there, Enforce him with his envy to the people, And that the spoil got on the Antiates Was ne’er distributed. Enter an Aedile. What, will he come? AEDILE. He’s coming. BRUTUS. How accompanied? AEDILE. With old Menenius, and those senators That always favoured him. SICINIUS. Have you a catalogue Of all the voices that we have procured, Set down by th’ poll? AEDILE. I have. ’Tis ready. SICINIUS. Have you collected them by tribes? AEDILE. I have. SICINIUS. Assemble presently the people hither; And when they hear me say “It shall be so I’ th’ right and strength o’ th’ commons,” be it either For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them If I say “Fine,” cry “Fine,” if “Death,” cry “Death,” Insisting on the old prerogative And power i’ th’ truth o’ th’ cause. AEDILE. I shall inform them. BRUTUS. And when such time they have begun to cry, Let them not cease, but with a din confused Enforce the present execution Of what we chance to sentence. AEDILE. Very well. SICINIUS. Make them be strong and ready for this hint When we shall hap to give’t them. BRUTUS. Go about it. [_Exit Aedile._] Put him to choler straight. He hath been used Ever to conquer and to have his worth Of contradiction. Being once chafed, he cannot Be reined again to temperance; then he speaks What’s in his heart; and that is there which looks With us to break his neck.
Enter Coriolanus, Menenius and Cominius with other Senators. SICINIUS. Well, here he comes. MENENIUS. Calmly, I do beseech you. CORIOLANUS. Ay, as an ostler, that for th’ poorest piece Will bear the knave by th’ volume.—Th’ honoured gods Keep Rome in safety and the chairs of justice Supplied with worthy men! Plant love among’s! Throng our large temples with the shows of peace And not our streets with war! FIRST SENATOR. Amen, amen. MENENIUS. A noble wish. Enter the Aedile with the Plebeians. SICINIUS. Draw near, ye people. AEDILE. List to your tribunes. Audience! Peace, I say! CORIOLANUS. First, hear me speak. BOTH TRIBUNES. Well, say.—Peace, ho! CORIOLANUS. Shall I be charged no further than this present? Must all determine here? SICINIUS. I do demand If you submit you to the people’s voices, Allow their officers, and are content To suffer lawful censure for such faults As shall be proved upon you. CORIOLANUS. I am content. MENENIUS. Lo, citizens, he says he is content. The warlike service he has done, consider. Think Upon the wounds his body bears, which show Like graves i’ th’ holy churchyard. CORIOLANUS. Scratches with briars, Scars to move laughter only. MENENIUS. Consider further, That when he speaks not like a citizen, You find him like a soldier. Do not take His rougher accents for malicious sounds, But, as I say, such as become a soldier Rather than envy you.
COMINIUS. Well, well, no more. CORIOLANUS. What is the matter, That, being passed for consul with full voice, I am so dishonoured that the very hour You take it off again? SICINIUS. Answer to us. CORIOLANUS. Say then. ’Tis true, I ought so. SICINIUS. We charge you that you have contrived to take From Rome all seasoned office and to wind Yourself into a power tyrannical, For which you are a traitor to the people. CORIOLANUS. How? Traitor? MENENIUS. Nay, temperately! Your promise. CORIOLANUS. The fires i’ th’ lowest hell fold in the people! Call me their traitor? Thou injurious tribune! Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, In thy hands clutched as many millions, in Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say “Thou liest” unto thee with a voice as free As I do pray the gods. SICINIUS. Mark you this, people? ALL PLEBEIANS. To th’ rock, to th’ rock with him! SICINIUS. Peace! We need not put new matter to his charge. What you have seen him do and heard him speak, Beating your officers, cursing yourselves, Opposing laws with strokes, and here defying Those whose great power must try him—even this, So criminal and in such capital kind, Deserves th’ extremest death. BRUTUS. But since he hath Served well for Rome— CORIOLANUS. What do you prate of service?
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.