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The Complete Tragedies of William Shakespeare - All 12 Books in One Edition. William ShakespeareЧитать онлайн книгу.

The Complete Tragedies of William Shakespeare - All 12 Books in One Edition - William Shakespeare


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They are worn, lord consul, so

       That we shall hardly in our ages see

       Their banners wave again.

       CORIOLANUS.

       Saw you Aufidius?

       LARTIUS.

       On safeguard he came to me; and did curse

       Against the Volsces, for they had so vilely

       Yielded the town; he is retir’d to Antium.

       CORIOLANUS.

       Spoke he of me?

       LARTIUS.

       He did, my lord.

       CORIOLANUS.

       How? What?

       LARTIUS.

       How often he had met you, sword to sword;

       That of all things upon the earth he hated

       Your person most; that he would pawn his fortunes

       To hopeless restitution, so he might

       Be call’d your vanquisher.

       CORIOLANUS.

       At Antium lives he?

       LARTIUS.

       At Antium.

       CORIOLANUS.

       I wish I had a cause to seek him there,

       To oppose his hatred fully.—Welcome home. [To Laertes.]

       [Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS.]

       Behold! these are the tribunes of the people;

       The tongues o’ the common mouth. I do despise them,

       For they do prank them in authority,

       Against all noble sufferance.

       SICINIUS.

       Pass no further.

       CORIOLANUS.

       Ha! what is that?

       BRUTUS.

       It will be dangerous to go on: no further.

       CORIOLANUS.

       What makes this change?

       MENENIUS.

       The matter?

       COMINIUS.

       Hath he not pass’d the noble and the commons?

       BRUTUS.

       Cominius, no.

       CORIOLANUS.

       Have I had children’s voices?

       FIRST SENATOR.

       Tribunes, give way; he shall to the marketplace.

       BRUTUS.

       The people are incens’d against him.

       SICINIUS.

       Stop,

       Or all will fall in broil.

       CORIOLANUS.

       Are these your herd?—

       Must these have voices, that can yield them now,

       And straight disclaim their tongues?—What are your offices?

       You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth?

       Have you not set them on?

       MENENIUS.

       Be calm, be calm.

       CORIOLANUS.

       It is a purpos’d thing, and grows by plot,

       To curb the will of the nobility:

       Suffer’t, and live with such as cannot rule,

       Nor ever will be rul’d.

       BRUTUS.

       Call’t not a plot:

       The people cry you mock’d them; and of late,

       When corn was given them gratis, you repin’d;

       Scandal’d the suppliants for the people,—call’d them

       Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness.

       CORIOLANUS.

       Why, this was known before.

       BRUTUS.

       Not to them all.

       CORIOLANUS.

       Have you inform’d them sithence?

       BRUTUS.

       How! I inform them!

       COMINIUS.

       You are like to do such business.

       BRUTUS.

       Not unlike,

       Each way, to better yours.

       CORIOLANUS.

       Why, then, should I be consul? By yond clouds,

       Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me

       Your fellow tribune.

       SICINIUS.

       You show too much of that

       For which the people stir: if you will pass

       To where you are bound, you must inquire your way,

       Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit;

       Or never be so noble as a consul,

       Nor yoke with him for tribune.

       MENENIUS.

       Let’s be calm.

       COMINIUS.

       The people are abus’d; set on. This palt’ring

       Becomes not Rome; nor has Coriolanus

       Deserv’d this so dishonour’d rub, laid falsely

       I’ the plain way of his merit.

       CORIOLANUS.

       Tell me of corn!

       This was my speech, and I will speak’t again,—

       MENENIUS.

       Not now, not now.

       FIRST SENATOR.

       Not in this heat, sir, now.

       CORIOLANUS.

       Now, as I live, I will.—My nobler friends,

       I crave their pardons:

       For the mutable, rank-scented many, let them

       Regard me as I do not flatter, and

       Therein behold themselves: I say again,

       In soothing them we nourish ‘gainst our senate

       The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition,

       Which we ourselves have plough’d for, sow’d, and scatter’d,

       By mingling them with us, the honour’d number,

       Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that

       Which they have given to beggars.

       MENENIUS.

       Well, no more.

       FIRST SENATOR.

       No more words, we beseech you.

       CORIOLANUS.

       How! no more!

       As for my country I have shed my blood,

       Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs

       Coin words till their decay against those measles

       Which we disdain should tetter us, yet sought

       The very way to catch them.

       BRUTUS.

       You speak o’ the people

       As if you were a god, to punish, not

       A man of their infirmity.

       SICINIUS.

      


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