The Complete Tragedies of William Shakespeare - All 12 Books in One Edition. William ShakespeareЧитать онлайн книгу.
AUFIDIUS.
You keep a constant temper.
[Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS.]
FIRST GUARD.
Now, sir, is your name Menenius?
SECOND GUARD. ‘Tis a spell, you see, of much power: you know the way home again.
FIRST GUARD.
Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your greatness back?
SECOND GUARD.
What cause, do you think, I have to swoon?
MENENIUS. I neither care for the world nor your general; for such things as you, I can scarce think there’s any, y’are so slight. He that hath a will to die by himself fears it not from another. Let your general do his worst. For you, be that you are, long; and your misery increase with your age! I say to you, as I was said to, away!
[Exit.]
FIRST GUARD.
A noble fellow, I warrant him.
SECOND GUARD. The worthy fellow is our general: he is the rock, the oak not to be wind-shaken.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. The tent of CORIOLANUS.
[Enter CORIOLANUS, AUFIDIUS, and others.]
CORIOLANUS.
We will before the walls of Rome tomorrow
Set down our host.—My partner in this action,
You must report to the Volscian lords how plainly
I have borne this business.
AUFIDIUS.
Only their ends
You have respected; stopped your ears against
The general suit of Rome; never admitted
A private whisper, no, not with such friends
That thought them sure of you.
CORIOLANUS.
This last old man,
Whom with 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.—
[Shout within.]
Ha! what shout is this?
Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow
In the same time ‘tis made? I will not.
[Enter, in mourning habits, VIRGILIA, VOLUMNIA, leading YOUNG
MARCIUS, 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 forsworn?—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 Volsces
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.
VIRGILIA.
My lord and husband!
CORIOLANUS.
These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome.
VIRGILIA.
The sorrow that delivers us thus chang’d
Makes you think so.
CORIOLANUS.
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.
VOLUMNIA.
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.]
CORIOLANUS.
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,;
Murdering impossibility, to make
What cannot be, slight work.
VOLUMNIA.
Thou art my warrior;
I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady?
CORIOLANUS.
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!
VOLUMNIA.
This is a poor epitome of yours,
Which, by the interpretation of full time,
May show like all yourself.
CORIOLANUS.
The god of soldiers,
With the consent of supreme Jove, inform
Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou mayst prove
To shame unvulnerable, and stick i’ the wars
Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw,
And saving those that eye thee!
VOLUMNIA.
Your knee, sirrah.
CORIOLANUS.
That’s