Coriolanus Page #2

Fie, you confine yourself

most unreasonably.

- I cannot go hither.

- O you would be another Penelope.

Yet they say, all the yarn she spun

in Ulysses' absence

did but fill Ithaca full of moths.

No, good sir. Pardon me.

Indeed, I will not forth.

Go with me, and I'll tell you

excellent news of your husband.

No, good sir,

there can be none yet.

- There came news from him last night.

- Indeed?

Your lord and Titus Lartius are set down

before the Volscian city of Carioles.

They nothing doubt prevailing,

and to make it brief wars.

This is true, on mine honor.

So, I pray, go out with us.

Give me excuse, good sir.

I will obey you in everything hereafter.

Let her alone. As she is now,

she will but disease our better mirth.

- What is become of Martius?

- Slain, sir, doubtless.

He is himself alone,

to answer all the city.

Thou art lost, Martius.

Who's yonder,

that does appear as he were flayed?

O gods! He has the stamp of Martius.

Come I too late?!

Come I too late?!

Aye, if you come not in the blood

of others, but mantled in your own.

Let me hold you in arms

as sound as when I wooed,

in heart as merry as when

our nuptial day was done.

There is the man of my soul's hate.

Aufidius, piercing our Romans.

Worthy sir, thou bleeds.

Thy exercise has been too violent

for a second course of fight.

Sir, praise me not.

My work hath not yet warmed me.

The blood I drop is more

medicinal than dangerous to me.

To Aufidius thus

I will appear and fight.

If any such be here,

as it were sin to doubt,

that love this painting

wherein you see me smeared,

if any fear lesser his person

than an ill report,

if any think brave death

outweighs bad life,

and that his country

is dearer than himself,

let him alone, or so many so minded

wave thus, to express his disposition,

and follow Martius!

O... me alone.

Make you a sword of me!

Oi!

Advance, brave Titus!

Away!

Come! Come!

I'll fight with none but thee,

for I do hate thee.

We hate alike.

Five times, Martius,

I have fought with thee.

So often has thou beat me,

and would do so, I fear,

should we encounter as often as we eat.

For where I thought to crush him

in an equal force,

true sword to sword,

I'll potch at him some way.

Or wrath or craft may get him.

He's the devil.

Bolder, though not so subtle.

Nor sleep, nor sanctuary,

being naked, sick,

the prayers of priests,

nor times of sacrifice

shall lift up their rotten

privilege and custom

against my hate to Martius.

Where I find him, were it at home,

upon my brother's guard,

even there, will I wash

my fierce hand in his heart.

Honorable Menenius!

My boy, Martius, approaches.

For the love of Juno, let's go.

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