COMINIUS
Know, I pray you—
CORIOLANUS I’ll know no further.
Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death,
Vagabond exile, flaying, pent to linger
But with a grain a day, I would not buy
Their mercy at the price of one fair word,
Nor check my courage for what they can give
To have’t with saying ‘Good morrow’.
SICINIUS For that he has,
As much as in him lies, from time to time
Inveighed against the people, seeking means
To pluck away their power, as now at last
Given hostile strokes, and that not in the presence
Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers
That doth distribute it, in the name o‘th’ people,
And in the power of us the tribunes, we
E’en from this instant banish him our city
In peril of precipitation
From off the rock Tarpeian, never more
To enter our Rome gates. I’th’ people’s name
I say it shall be so.
ALL ⌈THE CITIZENS⌉ It shall be so,
It shall be so. Let him away. He’s banished,
And it shall be so.
COMINIUS
Hear me, my masters and my common friends.
SICINIUS
He’s sentenced. No more hearing.
COMINIUS
Let me speak.
I have been consul, and can show for Rome
Her enemies’ marks upon me. I do love
My country’s good with a respect more tender,
More holy and profound, than mine own life,
My dear wife’s estimate, her womb’s increase,
And treasure of my loins. Then if I would
Speak that—
SICINIUS
We know your drift. Speak what?
BRUTUS
There’s no more to be said, but he is banished,
As enemy to the people and his country.
It shall be so.
ALL ⌈THE CITIZENS⌉ It shall be so, it shall be so.
CORIOLANUS
You common cry of curs, whose breath I hate
As reek o’th’ rotten fens, whose loves I prize
As the dead carcasses of unburied men
That do corrupt my air: I banish you.
And here remain with your uncertainty.
Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts;
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,
Fan you into despair! Have the power still
To banish your defenders, till at length
Your ignorance—which finds not till it feels—
Making but reservation of yourselves,
Still your own foes, deliver you
As most abated captives to some nation
That won you without blows! Despising
For you the city, thus I turn my back.
There is a world elsewhere.
Exeunt Coriolanus, Cominius, and Menenius, with the rest of the Patricians. The Citizens all shout, and throw up their caps
AEDILE
The people’s enemy is gone, is gone.
ALL THE CITIZENS
Our enemy is banished, he is gone. Hoo-oo!
SICINIUS
Go see him out at gates, and follow him
As he hath followed you, with all despite.
Give him deserved vexation. Let a guard
Attend us through the city.
ALL THE CITIZENS
Come, come, let’s see him out at gates. Come.
The gods preserve our noble tribunes! Come. Exeunt
![William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition _136.jpg](https://litlife.club/books/248589/read/images/_136.jpg)
4.1 Enter Coriolanus, Volumnia, Virgilia, Menenius, and Cominius, with the young nobility of Rome
CORIOLANUS
Come, leave your tears. A brief farewell. The beast
With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother,
Where is your ancient courage? You were used
To say extremities was the trier of spirits,
That common chances common men could bear,
That when the sea was calm all boats alike
Showed mastership in floating; fortune’s blows
When most struck home, being gentle wounded craves
A noble cunning. You were used to load me
With precepts that would make invincible
The heart that conned them.
VIRGILIA O heavens, O heavens!
CORIOLANUS Nay, I prithee, woman—
VOLUMNIA
Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome,
And occupations perish!
CORIOLANUS What, what, what?
I shall be loved when I am lacked. Nay, mother,
Resume that spirit when you were wont to say,
If you had been the wife of Hercules
Six of his labours you’d have done, and saved
Your husband so much sweat. Cominius,
Droop not. Adieu. Farewell, my wife, my mother.
I’ll do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius,
Thy tears are salter than a younger man‘s,
And venomous to thine eyes. My sometime general,
I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld
Heart-hard’ning spectacles. Tell these sad women
‘Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes
As ’tis to laugh at ’em. My mother, you wot well
My hazards still have been your solace, and—
Believe’t not lightly—though I go alone,
Like to a lonely dragon that his fen
Makes feared and talked of more than seen, your son
Will or exceed the common or be caught
With cautelous baits and practice.
VOLUMNIA My first son,
Whither will thou go? Take good Cominius
With thee a while. Determine on some course
More than a wild exposure to each chance
That starts i’th’ way before thee.