Coriolanus

Go tell the lords of the city that I’m here. Give them this paper. Once they’ve read it, ask them to go to the marketplace. I’ll be there to confirm its truthfulness for them and for the common people. He whom I accuse has entered through the city’s gates and intends to appear before the people, hoping to explain himself with words. Hurry.

Most welcome!

How are you, general?

Like a man destroyed by his own kindness and killed by his compassion.

Most noble sir, if you still want to work together, we’ll rid you of your great threat.

Sir, I don’t know yet. We must see how the people react.

The people won’t know how to react if there’s no rivalry between you two, but whoever loses leaves the other man with power over everything.

I know, and my reason for attacking him is well founded. I put him in this position of power, and I sacrificed my honor for his loyalty. He became so highly esteemed that he watered his new plants with the dew of flattery. He seduced my friends by changing his nature—he was never known before as anything other than rough, unswayable, and unrestrained.

Sir, his stubbornness when he was being considered for consul is why he lost. He wouldn’t humble himself.

That’s what I was about to say: being banished for his stubbornness, he came to my house and put my knife to his throat. I took him in, made him joint commander of my army, let him do whatever he wanted. I even let him choose men from among my soldiers to carry out his agenda—my best and freshest men. I served his vision myself, helped him do the deeds that he took all the credit for. He wronged me in becoming so prideful. In the end, I looked like his follower, not his partner, and he treated me like I was just a soldier-for-hire.

That’s what he did, my lord. The army was astonished by it. And finally, when he was able to conquer Rome and we could have had the spoils and glory—

That’s why I’ll use all my strength against him. He sold us out, forfeiting the blood and labor of our great plan because of a few drops of women’s tears, which are as worthless as lies. Therefore he must die, and I’ll reassert my power by taking him down. But look!

You returned home like a messenger—you weren’t properly welcomed. But he comes back to a loud celebration.

And ignorant fools, whose children he has killed, tear their stupid throats as they sing his praises.

Seize your opportunity now, before he speaks and convinces the people with whatever he plans to say. Let him feel your sword—we support you. When he lies dead, you can tell the people what he did from your perspective. His version of the story will be buried along with his body.

Say no more. Here come the lords.

This celebration welcomes you home.

I don’t deserve it. But, worthy lords, have you carefully read the letter I wrote you?

We have.

And we’re sad to hear it. Whatever mistakes he made before this last one, I think we could have forgiven with light punishment. But stopping the attack when it was about to begin, squandering the advantage of our army’ position, leaving us to pay the cost of raising that army, and making a peace treaty when the enemy was weak and could have been conquered—there’s no excuse for this.

Here he comes. You’ll hear how he tells it.

Hail, lords! I have returned as your soldier, no more loyal to my country than when I left here. I remain under your great command. You should know that I have successfully won the bloody battles that brought your army to the gates of Rome. The spoils we’ve brought home outweigh the bodies of those we killed by more than a third. We’ve made peace, which brings honor to the people of Antium as much as it shames the people of Rome. And we here present, signed by the Roman consuls and patricians, and with the seal of the Senate, the treaty we’ve agreed to.

Don’t read it, noble lords. Instead, tell the traitor that he has abused your powers to the highest degree.

Traitor! How’s that?

Yes, traitor, Martius!

“Martius”!

Yes, “Martius.” Caius Martius. Do you think I’ll honor you with that stolen name, Coriolanus, that you took in Corioles? You lords and heads of state, he has treacherously betrayed your mission and given up your city of Rome—and I mean “your city”—because of a few tears from his wife and mother. He has broken his sworn oath like a rotten braid of silk, never following the advice of his fellow officers, but at his mother’s tears he cried and gave away your victory. The young attendants blushed and the courageous men looked at each other and wondered what to think.

Do you hear this, Mars?

Don’t invoke the god of war, you boy of tears!

Ha!

No more.

Incalculable liar, you make my heart swell beyond the bounds of my chest. “Boy”! Oh, slave! Forgive me, lords, this is the first time that I’ve ever been forced to scold. My grave lords, you must judge this lowlife to be the liar. Even his own version of events—he who has scars from my sword on his body and must carry the mark of my victory to his grave—will confirm that he’s the liar.

That’s enough, both of you. Hear me speak.

Cut me to pieces, Volsces. Men and lads, stain your swords with my blood. “Boy”! Miserable liar! If you’ve written your histories accurately, it’s recorded there that like a wolf in a hen house, I destroyed your Volscians in Corioli. I did it alone. “Boy”!

Noble lords, remember that it was simply good luck that allowed this prideful sinner to cause you this shame, he who now stands before your own eyes and ears.

Let him die for it.

Tear him to pieces! Do it now! He killed my son! My daughter! He killed my cousin Marcus! He killed my father!

Peace! Stop! No outrage. Peace! The man is noble and his fame is known around the world. We will review his most recent offenses fairly in the court of law. Stop, Aufidius, don’t disturb the peace.

(drawing his sword) Oh, I wish I could lawfully kill him and his whole family with my sword.

Contemptuous villain!

Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him!

Wait, wait, wait, wait!

My noble masters, hear me speak.

Oh, Tullus—

You’ve done a dishonorable deed.

Don’t stand on him. Noble ones, be quiet. Put away your swords.

My lords, when you understand—because in this rage he provoked, you cannot—the great danger this man intended to put you in, you’ll rejoice that he has been stopped. If your honors will please call me to your Senate, I’ll prove myself to have been your loyal servant or endure your strictest punishment.

Step away from his body and mourn for him. Let him be considered as the most noble corpse that a procession has ever followed to a grave.

His own fury frees Aufidius from most of the blame. Let’s make the best of it.

My rage is gone, and I’m full of sorrow. Lift him up. Help, three of the best soldiers. I’ll be the fourth. Play the drum in a mournful beat. Lay down your steel spears. Even though he has killed the husbands and children of many people in this city and they’re still mourning their loss, we’ll give him a noble memorial. Help me.