style="font-size:15px;"> The people’s magistrates.CITIZENS.
You so remain.
MENENIUS.
And so are like to do.
COMINIUS.
That is the way to lay the city flat;
To bring the roof to the foundation,
And bury all which yet distinctly ranges,
In heaps and piles of ruin.
SICINIUS.
This deserves death.
BRUTUS.
Or let us stand to our authority,
Or let us lose it.—We do here pronounce,
Upon the part o’ the people, in whose power
We were elected theirs, Marcius is worthy
Of present death.
SICINIUS.
Therefore lay hold of him;
Bear him to the rock Tarpeian, and from thence
Into destruction cast him.
BRUTUS.
Aediles, seize him!
CITIZENS.
Yield, Marcius, yield!
MENENIUS.
Hear me one word;
Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word.
AEDILES.
Peace, peace!
MENENIUS.
Be that you seem, truly your country’s friends,
And temperately proceed to what you would
Thus violently redress.
BRUTUS.
Sir, those cold ways,
That seem like prudent helps, are very poisonous
Where the disease is violent.—Lay hands upon him
And bear him to the rock.
CORIOLANUS.
No; I’ll die here. [Draws his sword.]
There’s some among you have beheld me fighting;
Come, try upon yourselves what you have seen me.
MENENIUS.
Down with that sword!—Tribunes, withdraw awhile.
BRUTUS.
Lay hands upon him.
MENENIUS.
Help Marcius, help,
You that be noble; help him, young and old!
CITIZENS.
Down with him, down with him!
[In this mutiny the TRIBUNES, the AEDILES, and the people are beat in.]
MENENIUS.
Go, get you to your house; be gone, away!
All will be nought else.
SECOND SENATOR.
Get you gone.
CORIOLANUS.
Stand fast;
We have as many friends as enemies.
MENENIUS.
Shall it be put to that?
FIRST SENATOR.
The gods forbid:
I pr’ythee, noble friend, home to thy house;
Leave us to cure this cause.
MENENIUS.
For ‘tis a sore upon us
You cannot tent yourself; be gone, beseech you.
COMINIUS.
Come, sir, along with us.
CORIOLANUS.
I would they were barbarians,—as they are,
Though in Rome litter’d,—not Romans,—as they are not,
Though calv’d i’ the porch o’ the Capitol.
MENENIUS.
Be gone;
Put not your worthy rage into your tongue;
One time will owe another.
CORIOLANUS.
On fair ground
I could beat forty of them.
MENENIUS.
I could myself
Take up a brace o’ the best of them; yea, the two tribunes.
COMINIUS.
But now ‘tis odds beyond arithmetic;
And manhood is call’d foolery when it stands
Against a falling fabric.—Will you hence,
Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend
Like interrupted waters, and o’erbear
What they are used to bear.
MENENIUS.
Pray you be gone:
I’ll try whether my old wit be in request
With those that have but little: this must be patch’d
With cloth of any colour.
COMINIUS.
Nay, come away.
[Exeunt CORIOLANUS, COMINIUS, and others.]
FIRST PATRICIAN.
This man has marr’d his fortune.
MENENIUS.
His nature is too noble for the world:
