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A root of ancient envy.-Let me twine
Mine arms about that body, where against
My grained ash an hundred times hath broke,
And scar'd the moon with splinters!
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 lov'd 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 for't: 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,

You bless me, gods!

Cor. Auf. 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 experienc'd, 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.
welcome!

Your hand! Most

[Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIdius.

SCENE.-The Tent of Coriolanus. Enter CORIOLANUS, AUFIDIUS, and others. Cor. We will before the walls of Rome to

morrow

Set down our host.-My partner in this action, You must report to the Volcian lords how plainly

I have borne this business.

Auf.
Only their ends
You have respected: stopp'd your ears against
The general suit of Rome: never admitted
A private whisper, no, not with such friends
That thought them sure of you.

Cor.

This last old

man,

Whom with a crack'd heart I have sent to Rome,

Lov'd me above the measure of a father;
Nay, godded me, indeed. Their latest refuge
Was to send him; for whose old love I have
(Though I show'd sourly to him) once more
offer'd

The first conditions which they did refuse,
And cannot now accept, to grace him only,
That thought he could do more; a very little
I have yielded to; Fresh embassies, and suits,
Nor from the state, nor private friends, hereafter
Will I lend ear to.-Ha! what shout is this?
[Shout within.
Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow
In the same time 'tis made? I will not.-
Enter VIRGILIA, VOLUMNIA, leading young MAR-
CIUS, VALERIA, and Attendants.

My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mould

Wherein this trunk was fram'd, and in her hand
The grandchild to her blood. But out, affection!
All bond and privilege of nature break!
Let it be virtuous to be obstinate.-
What is that curt'sy worth! or those doves' eyes
Which can make gods fors worn! I melt, and am not

of stronger earth than others.—My mother bows; As if Olympus to a molehill should

In supplication nod; and my young boy
Hath an aspect of intercession, which
Great nature cries, "Deny not."-Let the Volces
Plough Rome, and harrow Italy: I'll never
Be such a gosling to obey instinct; but stand,
As if a man were author of himself,

And knew no other kin.
Vir.
My lord and husband!
Cor. These eyes are not the same I wore in
Rome.

Vir. The sorrow that delivers us thus chang'd, Makes you think so.

Cor.

Like a dull actor now,

I have forgot my part, and I am out,
Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh,
Forgive my tyranny; but do not say,
For that, "Forgive our Romans."-O, a kiss
Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge!
Now, by the jealous queen of Heaven, that kiss
I carried from thee, dear, and my true lip
Hath virgin'd it e'er since.-You gods! I prate,
And the most noble mother of the world
Leave unsaluted: Sink, my knee, i' the earth;

[Kneels.

Of thy deep duty more impression show Than that of common sons.

Vol. O, stand up bless'd! Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint, I kneel before thee; and unproperly Show duty, as mistaken all this while Between the child and parent.

[Kneels.

Cor.
What is this?
Your knees to me? to your corrected son?
Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach
Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds
Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun;
Murd'ring impossibility, to make

What cannot be, slight work.

Vol. Do you know this lady?

Cor. The noble sister of Publicola,
The moon of Rome; chaste as the icicle,
That's curded by the frost from purest snow,
And hangs on Dian's temple: Dear Valeria!
Vol. This is a poor epitome of yours,
Which by the interpretation of full time
May show like all yourself.

Cor. [To his son.] The god of soldiers,
With the consent of supreme Jove, inform
Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou mayst

O, no more, no more!

You have said you will not grant us anything;
For we have nothing else to ask but that
Which you deny already: Yet we will ask;
That, if you fail in our request, the blame
May hang upon your hardness; therefore hear us.
Cor. Aufidius, and you, Volces, mark; for we'll
Hear nought from Rome in private.-Your re-
quest ?

Vol. Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment

And state of bodies would bewray what life
We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself
How more unfortunate than all living women
Are we come hither: since that thy sight, which

should

Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts,

Constrains them weep, and shake with fear and sorrow;

Making the mother, wife, and child, to see
The son, the husband, and the father, tearing
His country's bowels out. We must find
An evident calamity, though we had

*Gust or storm.

Our wish, which side should win; for either thou
Must, as a foreigner recreant, be led
With manacles through our streets, or else
Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin ;
And bear the palm, for having bravely shed
Thy wife and children's blood. Why dost not
speak?

Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man
Still to remember wrongs ?-Daughter, speak you :
He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy;
Perhaps thy childishness will move him more
Than can our reasons. He turns away:
Down, ladies! let us shame him with our knees,
To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride
Than pity to our prayers. Down: An end:
This is the last :-So we will home to Rome,
And die among our neighbours.-Nay, behold us:
This boy, that cannot tell what he would have,
But kneels, and holds up hands, for fellowship,
Does reason our petition with more strength
Than thou hast to deny't.-Come, let us go;
This fellow had a Volcian to his mother;
His wife is in Corioli, and his child
Like him by chance :-Yet give us our despatch:
I am hush'd until our city be afire,
And then I'll speak a little.
Cor.
O mother, mother!
[Holding VOLUMNIA by the hands, silent.
What have you done? Behold the heavens do ope,
The gods look down, and this unnatural scene
They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O!
You have won a happy victory to Rome:
But, for your son,-believe it, O, believe it,
Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd,
If not most mortal to him. But, let it come ;-
Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars,
I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius,
Were you in my stead, would you have heard
A mother less? or granted less, Aufidius?
Auf. I was mov'd withal.
Cor.
I dare be sworn you were:
And, sir, it is no little thing to make
Mine eyes to sweet compassion. But, good sir,
What peace you'll make, advise me for my part,
I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and pray

you,

:

Even in theirs and in the commons' ears, Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse The city ports by this hath enter'd, and Intends to appear before the people, hoping To purge himself with words: Despatch.

[Exeunt Attendants.

Enter three or four Conspirators of Aufidius' faction.

Most welcome!

1 Con. How is it with our general? Auf.

As with a man by his own alms empoison'd, And with his charity slain.

2 Con.

Most noble sir,

If you do hold the same intent wherein
You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you
Of your great danger.

Auf.
Sir, I cannot tell;
We must proceed as we do find the people.

3 Con. The people will remain uncertain whilst 'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either Makes the survivor heir of all.

Auf.

I know it;
And my pretext to strike at him admits
A good construction. I rais'd him, and I pawn'd
Mine honour for his truth: Who being so heigh-
ten'd,

He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery,
Seducing so my friends: till, at the last,
I seem'd his follower, not partner; and
He wag'd me with his countenance, as if
I had been mercenary.

1 Con.

So he did, my lord: The army marvell'd at it. And, in the last, When he had carried Rome; and that we look'd For no less spoil than glory,Auf. There was it:For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him. At a few drops of women's rheum, which are As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour Of our great action: Therefore shall he die, And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark! [Drums and trumpets sound, with great shouts of the people.

1 Con. Your native town you enter'd like a post, And had no welcomes home; but he returns, Splitting the air with noise.

2 Con. And patient fools, Whose children he hath slain, their base throats

I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name
Coriolanus, in Corioli ?

You lords and heads of the state, perfidiously
He has betray'd your business, and given up,
For certain drops of salt, your city Rome
(I say, your city) to his wife and mother;
Breaking his oath and resolution, like
A twist of rotten silk: never admitting
Counsel o' the war; but at his nurse's tears
He whin'd and roar'd away your victory;
That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart
Look'd wondering each at other.

My beating to his grave) shall join to thrust
The lie unto him.

1 Lord.
Peace, both, and hear me speak.
Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volces; men and lads,
Stain all your edges on me.-Boy! False hound!
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
That like an eagle in a dove-cote, I
Flutter'd your Volcians in Corioli:
Alone I did it.-Boy!

Auf. Why, noble lords, Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, 'Fore your own eyes and ears?

Con. Let him die for't. [Several speak at once. Cit. [Speaking promiscuously.] Tear him to pieces, do it presently. He killed my son ;-my daughter;-He killed my cousin Marcus;-He killed my father.

2 Lord. Peace, ho!-no outrage ;-peace! The man is noble, and his fame folds in This orb o' the earth. His last offences to us Shall have judicious hearing.-Stand, Aufidius,

To call me to your senate, I'll deliver
Myself your loyal servant, or endure
Your heaviest censure.

1 Lord.
And mourn you for him; let him be regarded
As the most noble corse that ever herald
Did follow to his urn.

Bear from hence his body,

2 Lord.

My rage is gone,

His own impatience Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame. Let's make the best of it. Auf. And I am struck with sorrow -Take him up :Help, three o' the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.Beat thou the drum that it speak mournfully. Trail your steel pikes.-Though in this city he Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one, Which to this hour bewail the injury, Yet he shall have a noble memory. Assist.

[Exeunt, bearing the body of CORIOLANUS. A dead march sounded.

Enter KENT, GLOSTER, and EDMUND. Kent. I thought the king had more affected the duke of Albany, than Cornwall.

Glo. It did always seem so to us; but now, in the division of the kingdom, it appears not which of the dukes he values most; for equalities are so weigh'd, that curiosity in neither can make choice of either's moiety.

Kent. Is not this your son, my lord?

Glo. Ay, and I have, sir, a son, some year elder than this, who is yet no dearer in my account:Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund ? Edm. No, my lord.

Glo. My lord of Kent: remember him hereafter as my honourable friend.

Edm. My services to your lordship.
Kent. I must love you, and sue to know you better.
Edm. Sir, I shall study deserving.

Glo. He hath been out nine years, and away he

shall again.-The king is coming.

[Trumpets sound within. Enter LEAR, CORNWALL, ALBANY, GONERIL, REGAN, CORDELIA, and Attendants. Lear. Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloster.

Glo. I shall, my liege. [Exeunt GLO, and EDM. Lear. Meantime, we shall express our darker

purpose.

Give me the map there.-Know, that we have divided
In three, our kingdom; and 'tis our fast intent
To shake all cares and business from our age;
Conferring them on younger strengths, while we
Unburden'd crawl toward death.-Our son of
Cornwall,

And you, our no less loving son of Albany,
We have this hour a constant will to publish
Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife
May be prevented now. The princes, France and
Burgundy,

Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love,

Sir, I

Do love you more than words can wield the matter,
Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty;
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare:
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour:
As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found.
A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable;
Beyond all manner of so much I love you.
Cor. What shall Cordelia do? Love, and be silent.
[Aside.
Lear. Of all these bounds, even from this line to
this,

With shadowy forests, and with champains rich'd;
With plenteous rivers, and wide-skirted meads,
We make thee lady. To thine and Albany's issue
Be this perpetual.-What says our second daughter,
Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall?-speak.

Reg. I am made of that self metal as my sister, And prize me at her worth. In my true heart I find, she names my very deed of love; Only she comes too short,-that I profess Myself an enemy to all other joys,

Which the most precious square of sense possesses;
And find, I am alone felicitate

In your dear highness' love,
Cor.
Then poor Cordelia !-[Aside.
And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's
More richer than my tongue.

Lear. To thee, and thine, hereditary ever,
Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom;
No less in space, validity, and pleasure,

Than that confirm'd on Goneril.-Now, our joy,
Although the last, not least; to whose young love
The vines of France, and milk of Burgundy,
Strive to be interess'd; what can you say, to draw
A third more opulent than your sisters ? Speak.
Cor. Nothing, my lord.
Lear. Nothing?

Cor. Nothing.

Lear. Nothing can come of nothing: speak again. Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty According to my bond; nor more, nor less.

Lear. How, how, Cordelia ? mend your speech a little,

Lest it may mar your fortunes.

I

Cor. Good, my lord, You have begot me, bred me, loved me : Return those duties back as are right fit, Obey you, love you, and most honour you. Why have my sisters husbands, if they say, They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed, That lord, whose hand must take my plight, shall

Come not between the dragon and his wrath :
I lov'd her most, and thought to set my rest
On her kind nursery.- Hence, and avoid my sight!
[TO CORDELIA.

So be my grave my peace, as here I give
Her father's heart from her!-Call France ;-
Who stirs ?

Call Burgundy.-Cornwall, and Albany,
With my two daughters' dowers digest this third:
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.
I do invest you jointly with my power,
Pre-eminence, and all the large effects
That troop with majesty.-Ourself, by monthly

course,

With reservation of an hundred knights,
By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode
Make with you by due turns. Only we still retain
The name, and all the additions to a king:
The sway,

Revenue, execution of the rest,

Beloved sons, be yours; which to confirm,
This coronet part between you. [Giving the crown.
Kent.
Royal Lear,
Whom I have ever honour'd as my king,
Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd,
As my great patron thought on in my prayers,-
Lear. The bow is bent and drawn, make from

the shaft.

Kent. Let it fall rather, though the fork invade The region of my heart; be Kent unmannerly, When Lear is mad. What would'st thou do, old man?

Think'st thou, that duty shall have dread to speak, When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour's bound,

When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom; And, in thy best consideration, check

This hideous rashness: answer my life my judgment, Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least; Nor are those empty-hearted, whose low sound Reverbs no hollowness.

Kent. See better, Lear; and let me still remain
The true blank of thine eye.
Lear. Now, by Apollo,-
Kent.

Thou swear'st thy gods in vain.
Lear.

Now, by Apollo, king,

O vassal! miscreant. [Laying his hand on his sword.

Alb. & Corn. Dear sir, forbear.
Kent. Do;

Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow * Kindred.