Coriolanus

Act 1, Scene 9

The Roman camp.

The Roman camp.

Flourish. Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter, from one side, COMINIUS with the Romans; from the other side, MARTIUS, with his arm in a scarf

Trumpets blast to announce Roman victory. A retreat signal is also sounded. COMINIUS and the Romans enter from one side. MARTIUS, with his arm in a sling, enters from the other side.

COMINIUS

If I should tell thee o’er this thy day’s work,

Thou’ldst not believe thy deeds: but I’ll report it

Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles,

Where great patricians shall attend and shrug,

I’ the end admire, where ladies shall be frighted,

And, gladly quaked, hear more; where the

dull tribunes,

That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours,

Shall say against their hearts “We thank the gods

Our Rome hath such a soldier.”

Yet camest thou to a morsel of this feast,

Having fully dined before.

COMINIUS

If I told you about all you did today, you wouldn’t believe it. But when I tell the senators, they’ll both cry and smile. Great noblemen will pause, shrug their shoulders in bewilderment, and wonder. Ladies will be frightened, happily frightened, and ask to hear more. The somber tribunes, who along with the moldy peasants hate it when you triumph, will say under their breath: “We thank the gods that Rome has a soldier like you.” But for you this victory was only like a small bite, since you had already had a feast of victory before.

Enter TITUS LARTIUS, with his power, from the pursuit

TITUS LARTIUS, with his army, enters, returning from the pursuit.

LARTIUS

O general,

Here is the steed, we the caparison:

Hadst thou beheld—

LARTIUS

Oh, general, Martius was like the horse, and we were only along for the ride. If you had seen—

MARTIUS

Pray now, no more: my mother,

Who has a charter to extol her blood,

When she does praise me grieves me. I have done

As you have done; that’s what I can; induced

As you have been; that’s for my country:

He that has but effected his good will

Hath overta’en mine act.

MARTIUS

Please, say no more. My mother, who has a right to praise me since I am her son, irritates me when she does so. I’ve done what you’ve done: I’ve done the best I can. I was trained as you were: to serve my country. Whoever who has done what he intended to do has accomplished more than I have.

COMINIUS

You shall not be

The grave of your deserving; Rome must know

The value of her own: ’twere a concealment

Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement,

To hide your doings; and to silence that,

Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch’d,

Would seem but modest: therefore, I beseech you

In sign of what you are, not to reward

What you have done—before our army hear me.

COMINIUS

Don’t dismiss the praise you deserve. Rome must know your value as her soldier. To conceal your achievements would be worse than stealing, and not less than slander, because for what you have done, no matter how highly we praise you, it will never be sufficient. So I ask you—in recognition of your importance to Rome, not to boast of your achievements—let me address you in front of our army.

MARTIUS

I have some wounds upon me, and they smart

To hear themselves remember’d.

MARTIUS

I’m wounded, and my wounds hurt when they hear how I got them.

COMINIUS

Should they not,

Well might they fester ’gainst ingratitude,

And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses,

Whereof we have ta’en good and good store, of all

The treasure in this field achieved and city,

We render you the tenth, to be ta’en forth,

Before the common distribution, at

Your only choice.

COMINIUS

If your wounds don’t hear, they might think we’re ungrateful, become infected, and cause your death. Of all the many good horses we’ve taken from the enemy and of all the treasures we’ve won in the battlefield and in the city, we’ll give you one tenth to take now, before the rest is divided among us. Take whatever you choose.

MARTIUS

I thank you, general;

But cannot make my heart consent to take

A bribe to pay my sword: I do refuse it;

And stand upon my common part with those

That have beheld the doing.

MARTIUS

Thank you, general, but my heart won’t to take a bribe to pay my sword. I refuse to stand there and listen to my deeds be told to those who saw me do them.

A long flourish. They all cry “Martius! Martius!” cast up their caps and lances: COMINIUS and LARTIUS stand bare

A long trumpet blast is heard. They all cry “Martius! Martius!” and throw their caps and lances into the air. COMINIUS and LARTIUS stand respectfully without their hats.

MARTIUS

May these same instruments, which you profane,

Never sound more! when drums and trumpets shall

I’ the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be

Made all of false-faced soothing!

When steel grows soft as the parasite’s silk,

Let him be made a coverture for the wars!

No more, I say! For that I have not wash’d

My nose that bled, or foil’d some debile wretch.—

Which, without note, here’s many else have done,—

You shout me forth

In acclamations hyperbolical;

As if I loved my little should be dieted

In praises sauced with lies.

MARTIUS

May these instruments, which you play in the wrong moment, never make a sound again! If drums and trumpets could flatter the enemy into submission in battle, then we should build our courts and cities on their false praise! When steel grows soft as the diplomat’s silk, let us make an army of diplomats! Stop all this flattery! Because I haven’t washed my bloody nose or because I triumphed over some weakling—which, you fail to note, many others have done, too—you praise me in overstated terms, as if I enjoyed having my small achievements puffed up with exaggerations.

COMINIUS

Too modest are you;

More cruel to your good report than grateful

To us that give you truly: by your patience,

If ’gainst yourself you be incensed, we’ll put you,

Like one that means his proper harm, in manacles,

Then reason safely with you. Therefore, be it known,

As to us, to all the world, that Caius Martius

Wears this war’s garland: in token of the which,

My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him,

With all his trim belonging; and from this time,

For what he did before Corioli, call him,

With all the applause and clamour of the host,

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS! Bear

The addition nobly ever!

COMINIUS

You’re too modest. You express more resentment about the praise we offer than you express gratitude for our true account of your service. Allow me to suggest that if you’re going to get upset, we’ll tie you up as we would someone suicidal and then reason with you. It must be known, not only to us but to all the world, that Caius Martius is the hero of this war. So I give you my magnificent horse, whose value is known to our men, and all his equipment. And from this time on, in honor of what you did in Corioles, you will be called, with all the applause and clamor you deserve, Caius Martius Coriolanus! Use this additional title nobly, always!

Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums

Trumpets sound and drums pound.

ALL

Caius Martius Coriolanus!

ALL

Caius Martius Coriolanus!

CORIOLANUS

I will go wash;

And when my face is fair, you shall perceive

Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thank you.

I mean to stride your steed, and at all times

To undercrest your good addition

To the fairness of my power.

CORIOLANUS

I’ll go wash and when my face is clean, you’ll see whether or not I’m blushing. Thank you for this honor. I’ll ride your horse and try always to live up to this noble title you have given me.

COMINIUS

So, to our tent;

Where, ere we do repose us, we will write

To Rome of our success. You, Titus Lartius,

Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome

The best, with whom we may articulate,

For their own good and ours.

COMINIUS

Let’s go to our tent. Before we rest, we’ll write to Rome of our success. You, Titus Lartius, must go back to Corioles. Send us the best citizen of Corioles with whom we may negotiate a treaty, one that is fair to them and to us.

LARTIUS

I shall, my lord.

LARTIUS

I will, my lord.

CORIOLANUS

The gods begin to mock me. I, that now

Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg

Of my lord general.

CORIOLANUS

The gods begin to mock me. I, who just refused amazing gifts, must now beg something of you, my lord general.

COMINIUS

Take’t; ’tis yours. What is’t?

COMINIUS

Whatever you want is yours. What is it?

CORIOLANUS

I sometime lay here in Corioli

At a poor man’s house; he used me kindly:

He cried to me; I saw him prisoner;

But then Aufidius was with in my view,

And wrath o’erwhelm’d my pity: I request you

To give my poor host freedom.

CORIOLANUS

When I was in Corioles, I stayed for some time in a poor man’s house. He treated me kindly, and now he’s a prisoner. He cried out for my help, but I was focused on Aufidius, and anger overwhelmed my pity. I request that you free my poor host.

COMINIUS

O, well begg’d!

Were he the butcher of my son, he should

Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus.

COMINIUS

You’re persuasive! Even if he were the butcher of my son, he’d be as free as the wind. Release him, Titus.

LARTIUS

Martius, his name?

LARTIUS

Martius, his name?

CORIOLANUS

By Jupiter! forgot.

I am weary; yea, my memory is tired.

Have we no wine here?

CORIOLANUS

By Jupiter! I’ve forgotten. I’m worn out and my memory is tired. Do we have any wine here?

COMINIUS

Go we to our tent:

The blood upon your visage dries; ’tis time

It should be look’d to: come.

COMINIUS

Let’s go our tent. The blood on your face is drying. It’s time you were looked at. Come.

Exeunt

All exit.