Menenius ever, ever.HERALD.
Give way there, and go on!
CORIOLANUS.
[To his wife and mother.] Your hand, and yours:
Ere in our own house I do shade my head,
The good patricians must be visited;
From whom I have receiv’d not only greetings,
But with them change of honours.
VOLUMNIA.
I have lived
To see inherited my very wishes,
And the buildings of my fancy; only
There’s one thing wanting, which I doubt not but
Our Rome will cast upon thee.
CORIOLANUS.
Know, good mother,
I had rather be their servant in my way
Than sway with them in theirs.
COMINIUS.
On, to the Capitol.
[Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before. The tribunes remain.]
BRUTUS.
All tongues speak of him and the bleared sights
Are spectacled to see him: your prattling nurse
Into a rapture lets her baby cry
While she chats him: the kitchen malkin pins
Her richest lockram ‘bout her reechy neck,
Clamb’ring the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks, windows,
Are smother’d up, leads fill’d and ridges hors’d
With variable complexions; all agreeing
In earnestness to see him: seld-shown flamens
Do press among the popular throngs, and puff
To win a vulgar station: our veil’d dames
Commit the war of white and damask, in
Their nicely gawded cheeks, to the wanton spoil
Of Phoebus’ burning kisses; such a pother,
As if that whatsoever god who leads him
Were slily crept into his human powers,
And gave him graceful posture.
SICINIUS.
On the sudden
I warrant him consul.
BRUTUS.
Then our office may
During his power go sleep.
SICINIUS.
He cannot temp’rately transport his honours
From where he should begin and end; but will
Lose those he hath won.
BRUTUS.
In that there’s comfort.
SICINIUS.
Doubt not the commoners, for whom we stand,
But they, upon their ancient malice will forget,
With the least cause these his new honours; which
That he will give them make as little question
As he is proud to do’t.
BRUTUS.
I heard him swear,
Were he to stand for consul, never would he
Appear i’ the marketplace, nor on him put
The napless vesture of humility;
Nor, showing, as the manner is, his wounds
To the people, beg their stinking breaths.
SICINIUS.
‘Tis right.
BRUTUS.
It was his word: O, he would miss it rather
Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him,
And the desire of the nobles.
SICINIUS.
I wish no better
Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it
In execution.
BRUTUS.
‘Tis most like he will.
SICINIUS.
It shall be to him then, as our good wills,
A sure destruction.
BRUTUS.
So it must fall out
To him or our authorities. For an end,
We must suggest the people in what hatred
He still hath held them; that to’s power he would
Have made them mules, silenc’d their pleaders, and
Dispropertied their freedoms; holding them,
In human action and capacity,
Of no more soul nor fitness for the world
Than camels in their war; who have their provand
Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows
For sinking under them.
SICINIUS.
This, as you say, suggested
At some time when his soaring insolence
Shall touch the people,—which time shall not want,
If it be put upon’t; and that’s as easy
As to set dogs on sheep,—will be his fire
To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze
Shall darken him for ever.
[Enter A MESSENGER.]
