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Rome. A public place. |
A public place in Rome. |
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Enter MENENIUS, COMINIUS, SICINIUS, BRUTUS, and others |
MENENIUS, COMINIUS, SICINIUS, BRUTUS, and others enter. |
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MENENIUS
No, I’ll not go: you hear what he hath said Which was sometime his general; who loved him In a most dear particular. He call’d me father: But what o’ that? Go, you that banish’d him; A mile before his tent fall down, and knee The way into his mercy: nay, if he coy’d To hear Cominius speak, I’ll keep at home. |
MENENIUS
No, I won’t go. You heard what his former general said, the one who loved him most dearly. He called me father. But so what? Go, you that banished him, and fall down on your knees a mile before his tent and crawl to him, begging for mercy. No, if he refused to listen to Cominius, I’ll stay at home. |
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COMINIUS
He would not seem to know me. |
COMINIUS
He acted as if he didn’t know me. |
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MENENIUS
Do you hear? |
MENENIUS
Do you hear? |
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COMINIUS
Yet one time he did call me by my name: I urged our old acquaintance, and the drops That we have bled together. Coriolanus He would not answer to: forbad all names; He was a kind of nothing, titleless, Till he had forged himself a name o’ the fire Of burning Rome. |
COMINIUS
He called me by my name only once, and I reminded him of our relationship and the blood we’ve shed together. He wouldn’t answer to “Coriolanus” or any other name. He was a kind of nothing, titleless, until he had forged himself a name out of the fire of burning Rome. |
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MENENIUS
Why, so: you have made good work! A pair of tribunes that have rack’d for Rome, To make coals cheap,—a noble memory! |
MENENIUS
Well now, this is all your doing! A pair of tribunes that have brought down the price of coal by letting Rome be burned—what a noble way to be remembered! |
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COMINIUS
I minded him how royal ’twas to pardon When it was less expected: he replied, It was a bare petition of a state To one whom they had punish’d. |
COMINIUS
I reminded him how noble it was to grant pardons when they are least expected. He replied that it was an insufficient plea from the state that exiled him. |
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MENENIUS
Very well: Could he say less? |
MENENIUS
That’s fair for him to say. |
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COMINIUS
I offer’d to awaken his regard For’s private friends: his answer to me was, He could not stay to pick them in a pile Of noisome musty chaff: he said ’twas folly, For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt, And still to nose the offence. |
COMINIUS
I tried to make him think of his personal friends. His answer to me was that he couldn’t stop to pick them out from a pile of offensive, musty chaff. He said it was foolish to spare one or two poor grains from being burned and still smell the stink. |
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MENENIUS
For one poor grain or two! I am one of those; his mother, wife, his child, And this brave fellow too, we are the grains: You are the musty chaff; and you are smelt Above the moon: we must be burnt for you. |
MENENIUS
For one poor grain or two! I am one of those. His mother, his wife, his child, and this brave fellow, too—we are the grains. You are the musty chaff. Your stink can be smelled above the moon, and we must be burnt for you. |
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SICINIUS
Nay, pray, be patient: if you refuse your aid In this so never-needed help, yet do not Upbraid’s with our distress. But, sure, if you Would be your country’s pleader, your good tongue, More than the instant army we can make, Might stop our countryman. |
SICINIUS
No, please, be patient. If you refuse to help when it’s most needed, don’t lecture us while we’re in distress. If you’d plead on your country’s behalf, surely your good words would do more to stop our countryman than any army we could raise. |
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MENENIUS
No, I’ll not meddle. |
MENENIUS
No, I won’t get involved. |
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SICINIUS
Pray you, go to him. |
SICINIUS
Please, go to him. |
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MENENIUS
What should I do? |
MENENIUS
What would I do? |
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BRUTUS
Only make trial what your love can do For Rome, towards Martius. |
BRUTUS
See what your kindness toward Martius can do for Rome. |
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MENENIUS
Well, and say that Martius Return me, as Cominius is return’d, Unheard; what then? But as a discontented friend, grief-shot With his unkindness? say’t be so? |
MENENIUS
All right, but what if Martius sends me back without listening to me, as he did with Cominius? What then? I’ll come back simply as a disappointed friend, grief-stricken with his unkindness? What if that happens? |
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SICINIUS
Yet your good will must have that thanks from Rome, after the measure As you intended well. |
SICINIUS
No, Rome will thank you for your efforts because you intended well. |
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MENENIUS
I’ll undertake ’t: I think he’ll hear me. Yet, to bite his lip And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me. He was not taken well; he had not dined: The veins unfill’d, our blood is cold, and then We pout upon the morning, are unapt To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff’d These and these conveyances of our blood With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls Than in our priest-like fasts: therefore I’ll watch him Till he be dieted to my request, And then I’ll set upon him. |
MENENIUS
I’ll try. I think he’ll listen to me. But it discourages me that he bit his lip and hummed at good Cominius. Martius wasn’t approached skillfully—he hadn’t eaten. When the veins are empty, our blood is cold, and then our outlook on the day is sour. We are unlikely to give or to forgive. But when we have stuffed ourselves with food and wine, we become more flexible than when we’re stiff with hunger. So before I ask him, I’ll be sure that he has eaten and is therefore likely to grant my request. |
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BRUTUS
You know the very road into his kindness, And cannot lose your way. |
BRUTUS
You know exactly how to access his kindness. You can’t fail. |
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MENENIUS
Good faith, I’ll prove him, Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge Of my success. |
MENENIUS
Have faith. Whatever happens, I’ll try to convince him. I’ll know soon enough whether I have succeeded. |
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Exit |
He exits. |
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COMINIUS
He’ll never hear him. |
COMINIUS
Martius will never listen to him. |
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SICINIUS
Not? |
SICINIUS
No? |
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COMINIUS
I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye Red as ’twould burn Rome; and his injury The gaoler to his pity. I kneel’d before him; ’Twas very faintly he said “Rise;” dismiss’d me Thus, with his speechless hand: what he would do, He sent in writing after me; what he would not, Bound with an oath to yield to his conditions: So that all hope is vain. Unless his noble mother, and his wife; Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him For mercy to his country. Therefore, let’s hence, And with our fair entreaties haste them on. |
COMINIUS
I tell you, he’s sitting on a golden throne, and his eyes are red enough to burn Rome, and his feeling of having been wronged overwhelms his pity. I knelt before him, and he very quietly said, “Rise,” and without a word, he waved for me to leave. He sent me a letter saying what he will do, and he has sworn not to yield on his conditions. There is no hope unless, as I hear, his noble mother and his wife are able to convince him to have mercy on his country. So let’s go then and urge them to hurry. |
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Exeunt |
All exit. |