William Shakespeare's Coriolanus in the complete original text.
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Coriolanus

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Act I. Scene I.

Act I .Scene I.—Rome. A Street.

Enter a Company of mutinous Citizens, with
staves, clubs, and other weapons.

First Cit. Before we proceed any further,
hear me speak.
All. Speak, speak.
First Cit. You are all resolved rather to die
than to famish?
All. Resolved, resolved.
First Cit. First, you know Caius Marcius is
chief enemy to the people.
All. We know't, we know't.
First Cit. Let us kill him, and we'll have
corn at our own price. Is't a verdict?
All. No more talking on't; let it be done.
Away, away!
Sec. Cit. One word, good citizens.
First Cit. We are accounted poor citizens,
the patricians good. What authority surfeits
on would relieve us. If they would yield us but
the superfluity, while it were wholesome, we
might guess they relieved us humanely; but
they think we are too dear: the leanness that
afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an
inventory to particularise their abundance; our
sufferance is a gain to them. Let us revenge
this with our pikes, ere we become rakes: for
the gods know I speak this in hunger for bread,
not in thirst for revenge.
Sec. Cit. Would you proceed especially a-
gainst Caius Marcius?
First Cit. Against him first: he's a very dog
to the commonalty.
Sec. Cit. Consider you what services he has
done for his country?
First Cit. Very well; and could be content
to give him good report for't, but that he pays
himself with being proud.
Sec. Cit. Nay, but speak not maliciously.
First Cit. I say unto you, what he hath done
famously, he did it to that end: though soft-
conscienced men can be content to say it was
for his country, he did it to please his mother,
and to be partly proud; which he is, even to the
altitude of his virtue.
Sec. Cit. What he cannot help in his nature,
you account a vice in him. You must in no
way say he is covetous.
First Cit. If I must not, I need not be barren
of accusations: he hath faults, with surplus, to
tire in repetition. [Shouts within.] What shouts
are these? The other side o' the city is risen:
why stay we prating here? to the Capitol!
All. Come, come.
First Cit. Soft! who comes here?

Enter MENENIUS AGRIPPA.
Sec. Cit. Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that
hath always loved the people.
First Cit. He's one honest enough: would
all the rest were so!
Men. What work's, my countrymen, in hand?
Where go you
With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I
pray you.
First Cit. Our business is not unknown to
the senate; they have had inkling this fortnight
what we intend to do, which now we'll show 'em
in deeds. They say poor suitors have strong
breaths: they shall know we have strong arms
too.
Men. Why, masters, my good friends, mine
honest neighbours,
Will you undo yourselves?
First Cit. We cannot, sir; we are undone
already.
Men. I tell you, friends, most charitable care
Have the patricians of you. For your wants,
Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well
Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them
Against the Roman state, whose course will on
The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs
Of more strong link asunder than can ever
Appear in your impediment. For the dearth,
The gods, not the patricians, make it, and
Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack!
You are transported by calamity
Thither where more attends you; and you
slander
The helms o' the state, who care for you like
fathers,
When you curse them as enemies.
First Cit. Care for us! True, indeed! They
ne'er cared for us yet: suffer us to famish, and
their storehouses crammed with grain; make
edicts for usury, to support usurers; repeal
daily any wholesome act established against the
rich, and provide more piercing statutes daily
to chain up and restrain the poor. If the wars
eat us not up, they will; and there's all the love
they bear us.
Men. Either you must
Confess yourselves wondrous malicious,
Or be accus'd of folly. I shall tell you
A pretty tale: it may be you have heard it;
But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture
To scale't a little more.
First Cit. Well, I'll hear it, sir; yet you must
not think to fob off our disgrace with a tale;
but, an't please you, deliver.
Men. There was a time when all the body's
members
Rebell'd against the belly; thus accus'd it:
That only like a gulf it did remain
I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive,
Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing
Like labour with the rest, where the other in-
struments
Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel,
And, mutually participate, did minister
Unto the appetite and affection common
Of the whole body. The belly answered,—
First Cit. Well, sir, what answer made the
belly?
Men. Sir, I shall tell you.—With a kind of
smile,
Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even
thus—
For, look you, I may make the belly smile
As well as speak—it tauntingly replied
To the discontented members, the mutinous
parts
That envied his receipt; even so most fitly
As you malign our senators for that
They are not such as you.
First Cit. Your belly's answer? What!
The kingly crowned head, the vigilant eye,
The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier,
Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter,
With other muniments and petty helps
In this our fabric, if that they—
Men. What then?—
'Fore me this fellow speaks! what then? what
then?
First Cit. Should by the cormorant belly be
restrain'd,
Who is the sink o' the body,—
Men. Well, what then?
First Cit. The former agents, if they did
complain,
What could the belly answer?
Men. I will tell you;
If you'll bestow a small, of what you have little,
Patience a while, you'll hear the belly's answer.
First Cit. You're long about it.
Men. Note me this, good friend;
Your most grave belly was deliberate,
Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd:
'True is it, my incorporate friends,' quoth he,
'That I receive the general food at first,
Which you do live upon; and fit it is;
Because I am the store-house and the shop
Of the whole body: but, if you do remember,
I send it through the rivers of your blood,
Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o' the
brain;
And, through the cranks and offices of man,
The strongest nerves and small inferior veins
From me receive that natural competency
Whereby they live. And though that all at once,
You, my good friends,'—this says the belly, mark
me,—
First Cit. Ay, sir; well, well.
Men. 'Though all at once cannot
See what I do deliver out to each,
Yet I can make my audit up, that all
From me do back receive the flour of all,
And leave me but the bran.' What say you to't?
First Cit. It was an answer: how apply you
this?
Men. The senators of Rome are this good
belly,
And you the mutinous members; for, examine
Their counsels and their cares, digest things
rightly
Touching the weal o' the common, you shall find
No public benefit which you receive
But it proceeds or comes from them to you,
And no way from yourselves. What do you
think,
You, the great toe of this assembly?
First Cit. I the great toe? Why the great
toe?
Men. For that, being one o' the lowest, basest,
poorest,
Of this most wise rebellion, thou go'st foremost:
Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run,
Lead'st first to win some vantage.
But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs:
Rome and her rats are at the point of battle;
The one side must have bale.

Enter CAIUS MARCIUS.
Hail, noble Marcius!
Mar. Thanks.—-What's the matter, you dis-
sentious rogues,
That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,
Make yourselves scabs?
First Cit. We have ever your good word.
Mar. He that will give good words to thee
will flatter
Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you
curs,
That like nor peace nor war? the one affrights
you,
The other makes you proud. He that trusts to
you,
Where he should find you lions, finds you hares;
Where foxes, geese: you are no surer, no,
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,
Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is,
To make him worthy whose offence subdues him,
And curse that justice did it. Who deserves
greatness
Deserves your hate; and your affections are
A sick man's appetite, who desires most that
Which would increase his evil. He that de-
pends
Upon your favours swims with fins of lead
And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye!
Trust ye?
With every minute you do change a mind,
And call him noble that was now your hate,
Him vile that was your garland. What's the
matter,
That in these several places of the city
You cry against the noble senate, who,
Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else
Would feed on one another? What's their
seeking?
Men. For corn at their own rates; whereof
they say
The city is well stor'd.
Mar. Hang 'em! They say!
They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know
What's done i' the Capitol; who's like to rise,
Who thrives, and who declines; side factions,
and give out
Conjectural marriages; making parties strong,
And feebling such as stand not in their liking,
Below their cobbled shoes. They say there's
grain enough!
Would the nobility lay aside their ruth,
And let me use my sword, I'd make a quarry
With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high
As I could pick my lance.
Men. Nay, these are almost thoroughly per-
suaded;
For though abundantly they lack discretion,
Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech
you,
What says the other troop?
Mar. They are dissolv'd: hang 'em!
They said they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth
proverbs:
That hunger broke stone walls; that dogs must
eat;
That meat was made for mouths; that the gods
sent not
Corn for the rich men only. With these shreds
They vented their complainings; which being
answer'd,
And a petition granted them, a strange one,—
To break the heart of generosity,
And make bold power look pale,—they threw
their caps
As they would hang them on the horns o' the
moon,
Shouting their emulation.
Men. What is granted them?
Mar. Five tribunes to defend their vulgar
wisdoms,
Of their own choice: one's Junius Brutus,
Sicinius Velutus, and I know not—'Sdeath!
The rabble should have first unroof'd the city,
Ere so prevail'd with me; it wil in time
Win upon power, and throw forth greater themes
For insurrection's arguing.
Men. This is strange.
Mar. Go; get you home, you fragments!
Enter a Messenger, hastily.
Mess. Where's Caius Marcius?
Mar. Here: what's the matter?
Mess. The news is, sir, the Volsces are in
arms.
Mar. I am glad on't; then we shall ha'
means to vent
Our musty superfluity. See, our best elders.

Enter COMINIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, and other
Senators, JUNIUS BRUTUS and SICINIUS
VELUTUS.
First Sen. Marcius, 'tis true that .you have
lately told us;
The Volsces are in arms.
Mar. They have a leader,
Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to't.
I sin in envying his nobility,
And were I anything but what I am,
I would wish me only he.
Com. You have fought together.
Mar. Were half to half the world by the ears,
and he
Upon my party, I'd revolt, to make
Only my wars with him: he is a lion
That I am proud to hunt.
First Sen. Then, worthy Marcius,
Attend upon Cominius to these wars.
Com. It is your former promise.
Mar. Sir, it is;
And I am constant. Titus Lartius, thou
Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face.
What! art thou stiff? stand'st out?
Tit. No, Caius Marcius;
I'll lean upon one crutch and fight with t'other,
Ere stay behind this business.
Men. O! true-bred.
First Sen. Your company to the Capitol;
where I know
Our greatest friends attend us.
Tit. [To COMINIUS.] Lead you on:
[To MARCIUS.] Follow Cominius; we must follow
you;
Right worthy you priority.
Com. Noble Marcius!
First Sen. [To the Citizens.] Hence! to your
homes! be gone.
Mar. Nay, let them follow:
The Volsces have much corn; take these rats
thither
To gnaw their garners. Worshipful mutiners,
Your valour puts well forth; pray, follow.
[Exeunt Senators, COMINIUS, MARCIUS,
TITUS, and MENENIUS. Citizens steal away.
Sic. Was ever man so proud as is this
Marcius?
Bru. He has no equal.
Sic. When we were chosen tribunes for the
people,—
Bru. Mark'd you his lip and eyes?
Sic. Nay, but his taunts.
Bru. Being mov'd, he will not spare to gird
the gods.
Sic. Bemock the modest moon.
Bru. The present wars devour him; be is
grown
Too proud to be so valiant.
Sic. Such a nature,
Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow
Which he treads on at noon. But I do wonder
His insolence can brook to be commanded
Under Cominius.
Bru. Fame, at the which he aims,
In whom already he is well grac'd, cannot
Better be held nor more attain'd than by
A place below the first; for what miscarries
Shall be the general's fault, though he perform
To the utmost of a man; and giddy censure
Will then cry out of Marcius 'O! if he
Had borne the business.'
Sic. Besides, if things go well,
Opinion, that so sticks on Marcius, shall
Of his demerits rob Cominius.
Bru. Come:
Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius,
Though Marcius earn'd them not; and all his
faults
To Marcius shall be honours, though indeed
In aught he merit not.
Sic. Let's hence and hear
How the dispatch is made; and in what fashion,
More than his singularity, he goes
Upon this present action.
Bru. Let's along. [Exeunt.
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