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THE ARDEN SHAKESPEARE GENERAL EDITOR: W. J. CRAIG 1899-1906: R. H. CASE, 1909

THE TRAGEDY

OF

CORIOLANUS

THE WORKS

OF

SHAKESPEARE

THE TRAGEDY OF CORIOLANUS

EDITED BY W. J. CRAIG AND R. H. CASE

METHUEN AND CO. LTD.

36 ESSEX STREET: STRAND LONDON

First Published in ig22

CONTENTS

PAGE

Preface . . vii

Introduction ix

The Life of Caius Martius Coriolanus .... xxvii

CORIOLANUS I

PREFACE

I REGRET that the completion of this edition of Coriolanus, which came into my hands in 1909, has been perforce so long deferred, and that before Mr. Craig's death deprived the Arden Shakespeare of his devotion and scholarship, he had not brought his work on the play to a stage at which I might have confined myself to little more than seeing it through the press. Unfortunately I have been obliged by the rough state in which it was left, to add, subtract, and alter on a large scale.

Mr. Craig had typed all headings of passages which he thought of annotating, leaving many blank, roughly explain- ing others, and illustrating these from his unrivalled stores with a generosity much beyond the scale of the edition. He would later have supplied omissions, cancelled superfluities, rewritten or replaced explanations, and selected and corrected examples ; and all this I have done freely, sometimes also substituting examples where verification was both necessary and impossible. As he had, for the most part, reserved difficulties requiring thought, I am almost wholly responsible for the reasoned notes.

Mr. Craig had roughly fixed his text and prepared the Life of Coriolanus from North's Plutarch for the press ; but for his Introduction he had only made jottings, and I have been obliged to write what follows quite independently.

This edition keeps as close to the folio text as the plan of the series admits, generally retaining obsolete forms of words and obsolete grammatical forms. The old stage directions, if sufficient, and if clearly expressed, though less gracefully than by modern editors, are also reproduced. Debts to old and

viii PREFACE

modern editors are of course many, and have been recorded in the notes, in which are also specified constant obligations to the new Oxford English Dictionary. I have, however, ventured to dispute the application of two or three of its citations, e.g. in notes on IV. v. 230 and v. i. 16. The Cambridge Shakespeare has been used for variant readings subsequent to the first folio (F.).

New matter, or supposed new interpretation, in the notes, includes a suggested explanation of the crux in I. ix. 46 : " Let him be made an overture for the wars ! "

References to other plays of Shakespeare apply to the Globe edition, and those to Gifford's /onson, ed. Cunningham, to the edition in three volumes.

R. H. CASE

INTRODUCTION

Among the twenty plays which are first found in the folio of 1623, Coriolanus is one of sixteen for which licence to publish was obtained by Master Blounte and Izaak Jaggard on November 8th of that year, as " Master William Shakspeers Comedyes^ Histories^ and Tragedyes soe manie of the said Copies as are not formerly entred to other men." In the list of sixteen plays that follows, Coriolanus heads the section of tragedies, as it also does in the " Catalogue " of contents in the folio itself. But in the folio text it is preceded by Troilus and Cressida^ which, though omitted in the catalogue, seems to have been meant to come fourth in the section, and was afterwards put first, in the course of printing.

Similarities of source, language, and metre, have suggested a date of composition for Coriolanus following closely on that of Antony and Cleopatra. Both plays exemplify the close- packed elliptical style of Shakespeare's late work, and also its metrical characteristics ; of which those that can be numbered for comparison, and can be shown to have been used increas- ingly by Shakespeare, especially the overflow, the speech - ending within the line, the aggregate of light and weak end- ings, would bring the plays immediately together in the order assumed. The most favoured date is therefore the latter part of 1608, or early in 1609, because Antony and Cleopatra is usually assigned to 1608 ; but as, in the edition of that play in this series, reasons were given for considering 1 607, or even 1606, as possible dates for its production, and for excluding 1608, the year 1607 becomes a possibility for Coriolanus as well as 1608 or later, in proportion as these reasons are valid. They are based upon the re-fashioning by Daniel of his Cleopatra, in 1607 (or between 1605 ^^^ 1607), in more dramatic form, and with new detail, suggesting Antony and Cleopatra as the model which converted him from dull recitation to representation.

External evidence of a reliable kind for the date of Corio- lanus is not forthcoming, except that, as Malone was the first to perceive, the language of Menenius in relating the fable of

X INTRODUCTION

the belly appears to be indebted to the version given by Camden in his Remaines of a Greater Worke, Concerning Britaine, etc., 1605, as well as to that of North's Plutarch.^ Other circumstances that have been put forward as evidence of date are : (i) that there was a great frost in the winter of 1 607- 1 608, when the Thames was frozen over and fires actually lit upon it, which, being present or fresh in remembrance, might suggest more readily sooner than later *'the coal of fire upon the ice," in I. i. 172 (Hales) ; (2) that there was a dearth in England in 1608 and 1609, as in the play (Chalmers) ; (3) that James I. encouraged the planting of mulberry trees in order to raise silk- worms in 1609, whence perhaps the simile, " Now humble as the ripest mulberry That will not hold the handling," in III. ii. 79 (Malone). The two last, which would indicate 1609 or 16 10 as earliest date for the play, are especi- ally weak, for mulberrys were not (as Malone himself points out) an absolute novelty either in England or in Shakespeare's work, and the dearth in Coriolanus is part of the original story. Malone's comparison of II. ii. lOi : '' He lurch'd all swords o' th' garland " with Jonson's Epicene^ V. adfin.^ " Well, Dauphine, you have lurch'd your friends of the better halfe of the garland," has more point. Unless the combination of lurch and garland was a commonplace, in which case the saying would surely have turned up elsewhere, it creates a strong probability of reminiscence on one side or the other ; and this would be most likely in the character of a comedy, who playfully accuses his friend, and finds a striking phrase from a serious play very pat to his purpose. Epicene was acted towards the end of 1609, old style, that is, between January 4th (when a patent was granted for the Children of Her Majesty's Revels, who played it) and March 25th, 16 10, which would point to 1609 ^^ Coriolanus at latest.

Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps and Mr. A. B. Paton thought they had proved Coriolanus to be later than the edition of North's Plutarch published in 1612, because the word " unfortunate " is used by Shakespeare in v. iii. 97, and in the corresponding passage in North in that edition, whereas in the earlier editions of North it is '' unfortunately." The obvious answer has been made that Shakespeare — who had already used North long be- fore 161 2, according to dates generally accepted — had metrical inducements to shorten the word here, and was probably the first to substitute adjective for adverb in this passage. More-

' See Extract on pp. Ixiii, Ixiv ^oit.

INTRODUCTION xi

over, Mr. M. W. MacCallum {Shakespeare' s Roman Plays and their Background, 1 9 1 o) points out his use of spite in IV. v. 84, which is North's word in the editions before 1603 only. Arguments for the late date (and also for earlier ones) have been sought by attempting to show that Shakespeare had an eye to the political situation in England and the disputes be- tween James and his parliaments, which one is tempted to call " foul wresting and impossible construction."

Dr. Brandes^ sees a help to the date in the death of Shakespeare's mother in 1608, regarding the event as an in- ducement to the subject of the play. Assuming the possible and desirable as fact, he says of Shakespeare : ** He remem- bered all she had been to him for forty-four years, and the thoughts of the man and the dreams of the poet were thus led to dwell upon the significance in a man's life of this unique form, comparable to no other — his mother." According to his view, Shakespeare, hating the mob because he despised their discrimination, and above all because of the " purely physical repugnance of his artist nerves to their plebeian at- mosphere . . . now, for the third time, finds in his Plutarch a subject which not only responds to the mood of the moment, but also gives him an opportunity for portraying a notable mother ; and he is irresistibly drawn to give his material dramatic style."

Leaving this view for later reference, there is no necessity, but a strong probability, that, having come back to North for the subject of Antony and Cleopatra, Shakespeare would turn over the pages of the same book for his next plot, and some think that having shown Antony as the infatuated victim of the charms and wiles of a mistress, he continued to illustrate the effects of woman's influence by selecting the story of Coriolanus, whose character for good or evil was of his mother's making, and who could no more resist her power over him than Antony could evade the " full supremacy " of Cleopatra.

This is plausible, and if the poet required great difference of theme for his new work, it was by no means wanting. The story contracts time, scene of action and scale of events in the new play, giving it, notwithstanding some difficulties in adapt- ing historical material, a beauty of proportioned construction in which it is as superior to its predecessor as that exceeds it in variety of scene and character and in grandeur of scope.

^ William Shakespeare, a critical study, ed. 1902 (Translation), pp. 532, 533.

xii INTRODUCTION

The world for theatre of action, with its empire for the prize at stake, is contracted to a petty commonwealth, Rome though it be, and a neighbouring rival state. The dominion of queen- mistress and that of mother are as different in essence as is the omnipresence of the one and the unobtrusiveness of the other save at decisive moments. The genial Antony, a reveller and a brawler " with knaves that smells of sweat " finds a sharp contrast in the haughty and temperate Coriolanus, whose first words in even an amiable interview with a plebeian would probably be, " Breathe further off! " His situation is simpler than Antony's, and his character less complex and less in the magical light of poetry. He has no genius •' that's the spirit that keeps " him, and no god whom he loves to befriend him, and to forsake him at the crisis of his fate with " music i' the air." He is eloquent in the emphasis of strong views before the senate, in profuse language of scorn or anger to the tri- bunes and people, and his too few and brief words to his mother, wife, and Valeria, owe a debt to imagination as well as to grace and gentleness ; but it is in his pride that he en- dures torture, and racked pride can never speak with the spell of doubting or repentant love, or " greatness going off." The heroes meet in their valour and invincibleness in fight. Both come always from " the world's great snare uncaught," and in battle, when seconded, Coriolanus can even become the inspir- ing comrade-leader like Antony and Henry V. Both are great in adversity, but in different ways, and there is a mag- nanimity in Antony and a generous understanding of others, that lifts him higher above fate. When Coriolanus bids fare- well to his mother and friends he speaks something like Antony, " 'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes," but uncon- vincingly, as in forced consolation, and never with the pathetic greatness of soul in : —

The miserable change now at my end

Lament nor sorrow at ; but please your thoughts

In feeding them with those my former fortunes,

Wherein I lived the greatest prince o' the world.

The noblest, . . . (Antony and Cleopatra, iv. xv. $i et scq.)

Coriolanus, as drawn by Plutarch, is deprived by the loss of his father, of education and its civilising influence, so that he is unfit for society, choleric, impatient, uncivil, and unyielding. By nature he has an excellent under- standing, a great heart, and temperance in everything but pride and choler. He is subject neither to love of pleasure

INTRODUCTION xiii

nor love of money, and seeks only honour, cheerfully en- during all pains by which his natural valiantness — the virtue honoured in Rome above all others — may be equipped to take the lead. Even his unsociableness seems qualified in some degree as we proceed, for his valour drew the young men about him, and we are told that he praised them when they did well, without envy. He seeks honour because of '' the joy he saw his mother did take in him," and thought all due to her " that had been also due to his father if he had lived."

This better side of Marcius Shakespeare has developed, so that in the play he is not only all that he should be to his wife, his mother, and Valeria, but as courteous and genial with his equals, as capable of winning and returning their love, as he is incomparably brave and disinterested. He has also given him an unwillingness to hear his own praise, which is pleasing, though perhaps too much a part of his pride; and, besides the freedom from flattering the people for which the young men praise him in Plutarch, he has a love of truth and hatred of promise-breaking and dis- simulation, which is his noblest trait.

On the other hand, his honest but narrow political views lose nothing of their hardness ; his indifference to the people's sufferings becomes inhuman, and for their behoof, his incivility, impartially bestowed in Plutarch, is improved to contemptu- ous abuse and gratuitous insult, very liberally inferred from the original character. When he is forced to become a suitor to the people, his ill-concealed mockery is repulsive in face of their good will. The Marcius of Plutarch, who showed his wounds freely and apparently unoffendingly, might con- ceivably have been softened, for the moment at least, by the frank appraisal of the consulship : '' The price is to ask it kindly ; " or by the appeal in : " We hope to find you our friend ; and therefore give you our voices heartily." Plutarch makes him choleric, but he does not mark this defect as the deciding factor in his fate. In Plutarch, on his first appearance to answer the articles charged against him, he does, indeed, as the tribunes hoped, use his wonted rough and unpleasant boldness of speech, and even begins to thunder and look grimly, which brings on the death sentence ; but when he is finally called to answer, so far from breaking out into abuse upon an unexpected charge, "that he had not made the common distribution of the spoil he had gotten in the invading the territories of the Antiates," he

xiv INTRODUCTION

is praising the soldiers who served with him in that journey when he is shouted down and condemned to banishment. At Antium he has not even the chance of speaking.

Shakespeare, who often shows how critically the commoner or lesser imperfections of humanity may intervene, makes the catastrophes both at Rome and Antium depend upon his ungovernable tongue, which cannot be stilled. All those who have encouraged his pride endeavour to control its dangerous outbursts. Accident does not intervene against him, as in other tragedies of Shakespeare. His own faults and his enemies' knowledge of them are his bane. To the Volscian lords, he declares mistakenly, "'Tis the first time that ever I was forced to scold," though no woman was ever louder or more voluble than he on two previous occasions. " Put not your worthy rage into your tongue," says Menenius in Act III. sc. i. His want of self-knowledge is extreme. He is a man of action and no Hamlet to look inward, and his only soliloquy evades the question that must have agitated his mind. His pride, in Shakespeare, has become monstrous, though to some extent disguised by an outward modesty, " which doth protest too much," and is apt to fail in moments of excitement, even ludicrously, as in " On fair ground I could beat forty of them " (ill. i. 240).

If, then, Shakespeare has given much to Coriolanus, he has also emphasised his faults, greatly imperilled our sympathy, and added excuse to the people's action ; and in another place, intentionally or not, he has left his conduct open to suspicion. Without adopting the charge inferred, I will put the case for it as strongly as I can. In Plutarch, when Coriolanus is banished, he alone is unabashed and not cast down, and " only of all other gentlemen that were angry at his fortunes did outwardly show no manner of passion nor care at all for himself" ; but it is carefully explained that this is not due to any effort of reason or moderation of temper, but because he was so wholly pos- sessed with wrath and desire of revenge " that he had no sense nor feeling of the hard state he was in." He comforts his wife and mother, and persuades them to be content with his chance, leaves the city with three or four friends only, spends a few days in the country at his houses, " turmoiled with sundry sorts and kinds of thoughts," and, in the end, "seeing he could resolve no way to take a profitable or honourable course," resolves to seek the Volsces.

INTRODUCTION xv

As this appears in Shakespeare, it is possible to suspect a dreadful instance of irony, and that the lesson of dis- simulation which he, and not Plutarch, has made Volumnia teach Coriolanus, has first reacted upon herself. In the scene which begins Act IV., without Plutarch's explanations, his statement is expanded. Coriolanus is made to appeal to reason, to preach fortitude, and to allude to precepts "that would make invincible The heart that conn'd them." Nay, he is hopeful ; he will be loved when he is lacked ; he will do well yet ; and he promises that his friends shall hear from him still, and never of him aught but what is like him formerly. Yet he, who, saving only Aufidius, hated most a promise-breaker (l. viii. i, 2), was silent henceforward to mother, wife, and friend, and after the presentation — intro- duced into the narrative by Shakespeare as if to show the species traitor in its most infamous degree — of a Roman traitor upon a lower plane, we meet him next far on his ignoble course and apparently, without hesitation, determined to forget both friends and promises. He soliloquises upon friendship turned to enmity by trifling causes, and foes endeared by the like, but has not a word of friends who feel his misfortunes as their own and watch for news of him. Had he then, already, when he bade farewell, to adopt his own words, surceased his truth, and taught his mind a most inherent baseness ? If his pride and conscious- ness of injury, unqualified by any perception of fault in him- self, could make him a traitor, the very thing that he had been charged with and resented most, could it also first deprive him of his vaunted truth ? Mr. E. K. Chanibers, annotating Coriolanus's exclamation " O the gods " in IV. i. 37, when his mother has urged him to " determine on some course," writes, " Coriolanus suddenly realises how the revenge, which is already beginning to shape itself in his mind, must inevitably bring him into conflict with all that he holds most dear " ; and it is possible to read some hint of a change in his character into what we have later from Aufidius in V. vi. 21 et seq.

But even if a reader were confident of his dissimulation on such grounds, that confidence would be severely shaken on reading Mr. A. C. Bradley's view of the probable de- velopment of Coriolanus's purpose.^ Mr. Bradley says: " As I have remarked, Shakespeare does not exhibit to us

^ The British Academy. Second Annual Shakespeare Lecture, July i, 1912. Coriolanus. Oxford University Press.

xvi INTRODUCTION

the change of mind which issues in this frightful purpose ; but from what we hear and see later we can tell how he imagined it ; and the key lies in that idea of burning Rome. As time passes, and no suggestion of recall reaches Corio- lanus, and he learns what it is to be a solitary homeless exile, his heart hardens, his pride swells to a mountainous bulk, and the wound in it becomes a fire. The fellow- patricians from whom he parted lovingly now appear to him ingrates and dastards, scarcely better than the loathsome mob. Somehow, he knows not how, even his mother and wife have deserted him. He has become nothing to Rome, and Rome shall hear nothing from him. Here in solitude he can find no relief in a storm of words ; but gradually the blind intolerable chaos of resentment conceives and gives birth to a vision, not merely of battle and indiscriminate slaughter, but of the whole city one tower of flame. To see that with his bodily eye would satisfy his soul ; and the way to the sight is through the Volscians. . . . This is Shakespeare's idea, not Plutarch's. In Plutarch there is not a syllable about the burning of Rome."

In this masterly and convincing analysis there is but one point that seems questionable, and it does not radically affect the main conclusions although it is described as the key to Coriolanus's purpose. The idea that Rome will be burnt appears to me to arise as the probable result of a sack and not as an obsession of Coriolanus himself. If it is not directly mentioned in Plutarch, at any rate we are told of burning as a usual occurrence : " he [Coriolanus] was very careful to keep the noblemen's lands and goods safe from harm and burn- ing, but spoiled all the whole country besides"; and it is probable that the cities which made resistance and were sacked were also burnt. Again: ''The people. . . accused the nobility, how they had procured Martius to make these wars to be revenged of them : because it pleased them to see their goods burnt and spoiled before their eyes," etc. In the play the first messenger says only that Marcius " vows revenge as spacious as between The young' st and oldest thing." The second reports what we have already seen in Plutarch, de- struction by fire, and then Cominius enters and predicts the events of a sack, in which burning has its place. Later references, such as that of Menenius, " If he were putting to my house the brand That should consume it," assume it as what is naturally to be expected. On the other hand,

INTRODUCTION xvii

i\ufidius (Act IV. sc. vii.) appears to expect the submission of Rome to Coriolanus and says nothing about burning. Coriolanus, indeed, threatens it, but as no one expects less it is difficult to stress the point as remarkable. Indeed it is perhaps rash to stress anything incidental in a story where so much is unaccounted for. Why, in Plutarch, do the Romans breathe fire and sword and then make no defence but humble entreaty ? In Shakespeare they are taken unawares and thus rather more excusable as to defence, but we are left to wonder why offered terms are not better than destruction ? Aufidius (IV. vii.) expects their submission, and the opinion of Coriolanus that they could not now accept the conditions re-offered with slight modification to Menenius, because they refused them at first, has no force. The first Volscian lord, in Act V. sc. v. , says : " making a treaty where There was a yielding." There is nothing, at any rate, to show that Coriolanus would not have been satisfied with humiliation to the extent of accepting his dictated terms, which is the point at issue.

Mr. MacCallum ^ argues against the charge of dissimulation in Coriolanus in well-weighed words, and lays great stress on the genuine sound of what he says at the parting. This, at first sight, is conclusive ; but are the words of Coriolanus quite like him ? Do we not first read them with something of a pleased surprise? To all appearance hot resentment is gone and nobility of nature has triumphed. Shakespeare invents a conversation between a Volscian and a Roman traitor, but gives us no help to reconcile the Coriolanus of parting with the Coriolanus who seeks Aufidius at Antium. It is usual with him to leave something uncertain in the interpretation of his great characters, just as there are always unknown elements of character in real life, and nothing, perhaps, except his genius, more distinguishes him from other writers than this ; but in the present case, the difficulty is more obvious than usual. He was content, perhaps, to let us bridge the gap in purpose for ourselves, as Mr. Bradley has done to admiration. It makes something, however, for the idea of dissimulation that the play is full of irony. Coriolanus wishes for reason to seek Aufidius at Antium, and a monstrous cause begins immediately to take birth. He flames with anger at being called a traitor, and becomes one. He abhorred

^ Shakespeare's Roman Plays and their Background, M. W. MacCallum, igio, p. 6ii et seq. b

xviii INTRODUCTION

dissimulation and perhaps stooped to it. His mother preached it and he perhaps practised it first successfully on her.

The secret of Coriolanus's change Mr. MacCallum finds in the fact that the people, meanly egged on by the tribunes, followed him with insult as he went to banishment, believing that he refers to this in his words to Aufidius in IV. v., and that the nobles were involved in his hatred by their failure to save him from this insult. But the words to Aufidius : —

only that name [Coriolanus] remains ; The cruelty and envy of the people. Permitted by our dastard nobles, who Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest ; And suffer'd me by the voice of slaves to be Hoop'd out of Rome.

could refer as well to the cries for his banishment, and at any rate those nobles who were with him when he left Rome would resent the outcry and try to protect him. Moreover, if one passage is cited, other like passages must not be left out. In the scene of farewell Coriolanus says, "the beast With many heads butts me away." If the people, as Mr. MacCallum supposes, have not yet appeared to carry out the tribunes' orders, then this must refer to the banishment generally ; and so it is with, " We , . . cowardly nobles, gave way unto your clusters. Who did hoot him out o' the city " (IV. vi. 122-124). They correspond with, " Unshout the noise that banished Marcius," or would do if Shakespeare really took such precise trouble to be consistent.

Again, Mr. MacCallum appeals to the scene which follows the farewell, i.e. Scene ii. of Act IV., for proof that the people have really driven Coriolanus out with insult. It might as well be taken to mean the contrary. Sicinius says, " Bid them all home : he 's gone, and we '11 no further ; " and again : " Bid them home : say their great enemy is gone," etc. They would know that as well as the tribunes if present, and the tribunes would hardly lead the insulting crowd.

If more is needed than the main process of thought in- dicated by Mr. Bradley, it may perhaps be found in the burning desire of Coriolanus to be quit of his banishers, to satisfy his wounded pride and make good his threat ** I banish you." This alone could give him back his lost sense of supremacy. He must be utterly severed from them, of another country, so that he may take vengeance upon them and win a name on them as on Corioles.

INTRODUCTION xix

Pride, the first of the seven deadly sins, is the more over- mastering in Coriolanus from his freedom from the rest, unless wrath be excepted. He is without envy, perhaps because he has no rivals, for, fair opposite as he is, he hardly endures the quality of Aufidius ; but his pride in his valiant manhood, though its praises grieve him, will brook no question, and becomes pitiful when he allows the taunt of "boy," not traitor this time, to make him insult his hosts and brag of his exploits in Antium. To be called traitor he could bear ; he knew his actions might be called in question ; but Aufidius burlesqued his emotion and its effect on others, and called him a "boy of tears." It was too much. He forgets the traitor, even the tears, but " boy ! " The word might almost echo him : "Alone I did it."

In framing the plot from the story in Plutarch, Shakespeare reduced three rebellious commotions to two. The first, which led to the appointment of the tribunes, was apparently pacified by Menenius, who only addresses the least important of two bodies of citizens in Shakespeare. The second, omitted by Shakespeare, was brought about principally by the tribunes by means of false tales, and was augmented by the attempt of the nobility to thin the ranks of the discontented by sending a colony to the plague-stricken town Velitrae, and to levy troops to proceed against the Volscians. The tribunes in- sinuated that the patricians had procured a voluntary war, and the people refused to serve. Marcius compelled them to colonise Velitrae, but proceeded to the wars with volunteers only, and as the result of his foray brought back plenty of corn and booty, which was distributed to the volunteers alone. At this stage, the proposal to confer the consulship was made, and at first favourably received by the people because of Marcius's services ; but on second thoughts they refused it. It was after this that by purchase and gift Rome was well provided with corn, and Marcius, embittered by his rejection, and indignant at the people's refusal to serve, and more than ever convinced of the folly of dividing authority, not only declaimed against easy sale or gift of corn but urged the abolition of the tribuneship and carried the majority of the senators with him. Upon this the tribunes flew to the people, " crying out for help," and raised a tumult. They attempted to arrest Coriolanus and proceeded as in Shakespeare. This was the third sedition or tumult.

In altering the facts, Shakespeare does more than improve

XX INTRODUCTION

the story from the dramatic point of view. He suppresses some of the machinations of the tribunes, but makes them responsible for the refusal of the consulship, and in creating live characters out of Plutarch's authors of sedition, makes them base, self-seeking and unscrupulous. Yet he sees to it that they put the people's just case forcibly, and makes them utter home-truths to the proud patrician : —

you speak to the people As if you were a god to punish, not A man of their infirmity.

He gives the people more excuse for their fickleness, by making Marcius refuse to show his wounds and meet their good-will with ungenerous sneers. Their natural kindliness and pathetic readiness to forgive is not forgotten, but, on the other hand, their sufferings and forbearance are less advanced, and justice is hardly done to their provocations, methods and moderation. Their ignorance and self-contradiction, as Shakespeare paints it, help to intensify their fickleness, and their enthusiasm for the victor Coriolanus shows up their ingratitude in the sequel.

Yet it is not strictly true to say, with Dr. Brandes,^ that Shakespeare ignores ''every incident which sheds a favourable light upon the Plebeians," and had his sympathy been wholly with Coriolanus he would have stopped short of making any part of his conduct odious. Advocacy of his point of view is not implied in making the people fickle and fusty, nor yet morbid hyper-sensitiveness on the latter score. Shakespeare was far too sensible of the humourous possibilities of the out- raged sense to be turned into a misanthrope, or of being made " incapable of seeing them [the people] as an aggregation of separate individualities," as Dr. Brandes will have it,^ by even " the rankest compound of villainous smell that ever offended nostril." No doubt he preferred a strong, unhampered govern- ment ; no doubt he disliked the mob on its bad, fickle, and dangerous side, and made the most of what was objectionable in it to nice senses, which is no more than what any student of his period ought to expect ; but that he could not or would not see the people's rights, their good side, and even their individual good sense, can only be denied by ignoring probability and reading the evidence of his work, including Coriolanus, all wrong. It would be better to take the opposite

^ Brandes, op, cit.^ p. 534. ^Ibid,^ p. 545.

TNTRODUCTKW xxi

view with Mr. Stopford Brooke, who says : " We are made to feel, moving like a spirit through the play, the sympathy of Shakespeare with the struggle of the people," and again : " Then, too, the drawing of Coriolanus suggests his sympathy with the popular movement. No one can help seeing that Shakespeare did not love Coriolanus, nor approve his conduct." The mob does not devour aristocracy, the rule of those who are best, or vileness triumph over nobility, as Mr. Barrett Wendell ^ puts it. The people expels by fair and foul means, a declared enemy whom sane aristocracy cannot control, and even Menenius admits that in the event all is well (IV. vi. i6). That Coriolanus subverts this condition by resorting to foul means himself does not change the fact.

Cominius and Titus Lartius are scarcely more than brave soldiers, generous comrades, and men of sense and prudence in the State, but Shakespeare has created in Menenius one of the happy old men of Elizabethan or Jacobean drama out of a mere name in Plutarch. Menenius would have been a witty compotator with Justice Clement, or old Merrythought, or Sebastian in Monsieur Thomas^ but has his serious sides in his devotion to Coriolanus and the shrewdness, and — at the lowest estimate — the bonhomie, which creates an impression of good- will and makes the people hear him and endure his plainest speech. He and his fellow patricians share the aristocratic prejudices of Coriolanus, but not in the exaggerated degree which destroys all human feeling ; and as the people credited him with love for them and honesty, it is a fair inference that they remembered instances either of particular kindness or of political impartiality. Mr. E. K. Chambers denies him dip- lomacy save in his own conceit, and will have him foolish and ineffective, but it is he who does all that can be done from the patrician side to control events in the hour of danger, who calls for force against force when nothing else will serve, and who afterwards succeeds in restoring the situation to a pos- sibility of compromise.

He is an altogether happy creation ; and it is only when we come to Aufidius that disappointment in the characterisa- tion is really felt. In Plutarch, Aufidius is not introduced until Coriolanus seeks him at Antium, when he is described as rich, noble, and valiant, honoured among the Volsces as a king, and as hating and envying Marcius because of their many encounters. Yet it is as *' a man of great mind " that

^ William Shakespeare : A Study in Elizabethan Literature, 1894.

xxii INTRODUCTION

Coriolanus seeks him out, and as one most desirous of the Volscians to have revenge upon the Romans, and Aufidius is "a marvellous glad man" to hear him, and taking him by the hand, says : " Stand up, O Marcius, and be of good cheer, for in proffering thyself unto us thou dost us great honour ; and by this means thou mayest hope of greater things at all the Volsces' hands." In Shakespeare, Aufidius appears early in the play, and the two men admire the qualities in one another which they value in themselves, but reciprocally hate and envy because each is too proud to brook a rival. Of the two, only Marcius speaks generously of his competitor, and Shakespeare makes Aufidius, when again defeated, disclaim honour henceforward and vow revenge by base means. Yet when Coriolanus seeks him, a rapturous speech replaces the few words of welcome in Plutarch, and it is impossible to think it insincere. Aufidius is one of those who can feel and obey a noble and generous impulse, but cannot resist reaction when the impulse fades and its consequences begin to be unaccept- able. *' Though he had received no private injury or dis- pleasure of Marcius," says Plutarch, ''yet the common fault and imperfection of maris nature wrought in him, and it grieved him to see his own reputation blemished through Marcius' great fame and honour, and so himself to be less esteemed of the Volsces than he was before." This is natural even in a true man, and in Shakespeare, if we may trust Aufidius, and the First Conspirator in V. vi., he experienced something too proud in the bearing of Coriolanus towards him, which added to his resentment. But dishonourably and unlike a true man, with a face of friendship to his colleague, he basely plots against him, and declaring himself moved by the appeal of Volumnia, is quite unmoved by that of Coriolanus : " Stand to me in this cause."

In the early rivalry Shakespeare represented his honour as perishing in the gall of repeated defeat ; so now, as in Plutarch also, the honour of a comrade and host withers in the hot resentment of a displaced leader. When he has destroyed his rival, he cries, " My rage is gone And I am struck with sorrow." It is a revulsion of feeling which cannot conciliate, but I do not think it was intended to be insincere. On the whole, Aufidius can be understood as well as despised ; but the delineation of the character does not satisfy, and leaves the impression of an unpleasing task, accomplished with as little trouble as possible. It is in contrast with the careful presentation of the tribunes.

INTRODUCTION xxiii

Of the three noble ladies, the wife is merely mentioned in Plutarch, without description, and it is Shakespeare who has created Coriolanus's " gracious silence," the tender-hearted Virgilia. She is a companion picture to Antony's Octavia, and small as is her part in the play, is well defined in her love and gentleness, in which injury to those she loves can yet awake fierceness, and in her resolution. Valeria, in Plutarch, makes her only appearance as the instigator of the female appeal to the victor, and the lead in that is soon taken by Volumnia ; so that the lively friend and chronicler of the exploits of little Marcius is again the creation of the poet, who receives only from his source her sisterhood to Publicola and high character for modesty and wisdom. He has again greatly developed the character of Volumnia from what he found in Plutarch, where there is no indication of its harsher side and the only reflection upon it is that implied in the evils arising to Coriolanus from the loss of his father.

Plutarch's Volumnia is the cause of her son's love of honour, the mother for whose delight he sought always to win the garland of the war, " that she might still embrace him with tears running down her cheeks for joy." There is no hint of the forcefulness of her character and tinge of ferocity in her exultation that we see in the play, nor any of those traits which, as Mr. MacCallum has well pointed out, are not such as a poet would imagine for an ideal portrait of his own mother. Dr. Brandes's notion of such portraiture has been alluded to in this introduction in connection with the question of date. She is not expressly made responsible for the moulding of her son's character, and does not intervene with superior sagacity and prudence to induce him to soothe the people with humble words on his lips, belying the scorn and hatred in his heart. In his misfortune she is coupled with his wife in abandonment to sorrow, weeping and shrieking with her as he bids goodbye, but in the climax of Rome's and her son's fate, she sinks the mother in the Roman and displays an unselfish devotion to her country far above his once lauded patriotism. Shakespeare has but added touches to her noble pleading, and has not broken her still nobler silence. She saves her son from a great crime, and not solely by her sway over him and the inability to resist her which determined his course on a former occasion. Then his heart and judgment were against her, now only his vow and injured pride. The tender side of his nature is stirred to its depths, and his eyes

xxiv INTRODUCTION

" sweat compassion." But if his countrymen have any share in his pity, he neither forgives them nor forsakes his treason. He returns to Antium to enjoy a brief welcome as their enemy, and to glory in their defeat and shame.

Good critics have found in this play signs that the author's creative power was waning, and point to the comparative cold- ness of its tone, the tendency of the characters to make us think of types almost as much as individuals, the preoccupation with theories of government, the feeling that Shakespeare has not dealt so imaginatively or sympathetically with hero or subject as in other cases. All these things might be admitted without accepting the deduction. Something may be al- lowed for reaction both in choice of subject and in treatment of it after such a theme and such daring in its presentment, such rein given to imagination as in Antony and Cleopatra. Once chosen, the subject imposes limits on the dramatist, and we may ask ourselves how far a character drawn with more palpable sympathy, or given more imagination than Coriolanus, would have accorded with it or with Shakespeare's own read- ing of it. It is curious to find coupled with the accusation of monotony, the charge that the play " lacks the relief of such underplot and comedy as enliven the great English chronicle- histories." ^ The natural comparison is with tragedy rather than history, but the comic vein is by no means unimportant in Coriolanus. The people are both consciously and un- consciously humorous; so too, the sei-vants of Aufidius. Their wit is not always "strongly wedged up in a blockhead." It will as "soon out as another man's will." Valeria is witty, and humour is second nature to Menenius. Coriolanus himself commands a bitter and sarcastic vein, and for a moment is almost playful in a grim way with the servants at Antium. The sudden, totally unexpected outbreak of little Marcius in the midst of the tension of the renunciation scene, which says so much in so little, is worth a whole comic scene.

Editors complain of the corrupt printing of Coriolanus, but as Mr. G. S. Gordon (Clarendon Press ed.) points out, there are very few certainly corrupt passages. There are a large number in which the lines need readjustment to restore them to blank verse ; but in regard to these Mr. Gordon appeals to examples of the irregular arrangements of the folio to show that they read like ** intentional recitative" and are often superior to the revised versions " in every dramatic quality."

^ Wendell, op. ciL

INTRODUCTION xxv

We may have much to learn about the delivery of blank verse on the stage, and it is true that a certain abruptness in the lines as printed sometimes adds force to their effect ; but if the arrangement is intentional and due to the poet, why is it sporadic only? The run of the verse is oftener faultless when the same sort of recitative would have been effective, and, on the other hand, prose is sometimes printed as verse without any conceivable gain.

Mr. M. A. Bayfield in A Study of Shakespeare's Versifica- tion, 1920, contends that Shakespeare's fondness for the re- solved foot and his assumed independence of the use of colloquial contractions and other vulgarisms, ought to make us expand not only 0 th\ a th\ etc., but even such convenient abbreviations as let's, whafs, shaWs, ha't, upotis, tane {ta'en), and discard dialectic forms like wodt, youst, etc., which are used somewhat capriciously. The effect is associated with the particular system of prosody which Mr. Bayfield advocates and which cannot be considered here, but apart from results on the verse, acceptable or otherwise, it is impossible to impute collo- quial forms to printers and editors only. In A History of Modern Colloquial English, 1920, p. ill, Professor H. C. Wyld has written much to the point on the general question involved : " We shall not assent to the view that certain habits in this politest form of Elizabethan speech, the outcome of natural linguistic tendencies, which are different from those now prevalent among the best speakers, are * slipshod,' merely because a later age, wishing to be more * correct,' has discarded them. If the speech of the great men we have been consider- ing was unaffected and natural, it certainly was not vulgar. If it be vulgar to say whot for hot, stap for stop, offen for often, sarvice for service, venter for venture ; if it be slipshod to say Wensday for Wednesday, beseechin for beseeching, stricly for strictly, sounded for swooned, attemps for attempts, and so on ; then it is certain that the Queen herself, and the greater part of her Court, must plead guilty to these imputations in some or all of the above instances. The absurdity of such a contention is manifest, and it will not be seriously made by those who are properly informed of the facts." In Shakespeare and the Pirates, 1920, Mr. A. W. Pollard has shown the great proba- bility that the author's autograph copies of his plays became the prompt-copies, and that the text of many of the plays, both of those printed in quarto and those which first appeared in the folio, were set up from them. This diminishes the chances of

xxvi INTRODUCTION

alteration by the elimination at least of a scrivener's copy be- tween author and printers.

Mr. Daniel supposes the action of Coriolanus to occupy eleven days, with intervals after all but the sixth day, the his- toric time being about four years, A.U.C. 262 to A.U.C. 266. Ha distributes the days to groups of acts and scenes as follows : I. i. ; I. ii. ; I. iii.-x. ; II. i. to line 200 ; II. i. from line 20 1 -IV. ii. ; IV. iii ; IV. iv., v. ; IV. vi. ; IV. vii. ; V. i.-v ; V. vi. The explanation of the division of Act li. sc. i. between two days is that Mr. Daniel believes that the scene is wrongly con- tinued here in the arrangement generally adopted, especially as it makes the arrival of Coriolanus in Rome, his standing for Consul, and banishment, all occur on the same day. See his remarks in The Transactions of the New Shakspere Society ^ 1 877-1879, pp. 183-188. The sixth day (IV. iii.) he assigns as occupying part of the last interval denoted.

Mr. MacCallum, in the important volume on the Roman plays already cited, has made an interesting comparison of Shakespeare's treatment of the story of Coriolanus with that of his French contemporary Alexandre Hardy, whose Coriolan seems to have been written about the same time or a little earlier, and printed two years later, in 1625. Influence, as Mr. MacCallum points out, is barely possible either way, so that there is interest in the fact that both authors have made much the same selection of episodes, and some of the same additions, to Plutarch, notwithstanding the very different stages they were writing for. The additions, for instance, include Volumnia's persuasion to a false submission and Coriolanus's hardly overcome reluctance. Adaptations of Shakespeare's work were made in England in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth century, and James Thomson's posthumous play of the same name was performed ini 749 with Lyttleton's prologue, remembered for its genuine pathos and for the verse, " One line which dying he could wish to blot." Thomson's " diffuse and descriptive style," as Johnson says, " produced declamation rather than dialogue," and his fondness of the feminine ending increases the monotony of his fluent verse. A student of catholic taste will read his Coriolanus without enthusiasm, but not without interest in the author's sentiments and the fate of his characters. As a correct play of the period it confines events to the last phase, from the arrival of Coriolanus in Antium, and excludes humour and wide variety of rank and character.

THE LIFE OF CAIUS MARTIUS CORIO- LANUS

{Extracted from Norths Plutarch, ed. i, i^yg)

The house of the Martians at Rome was of the number of the The familie Patricians, out of the which hath sprong many noble person- ^^ '^^ Marti- ages : whereof Ancus Martius was one, king Numaes daughters Sonne, who was king of Rome after Tullus Hostilius. Of the same house were Publius, and Quintus, who brought Rome Pubiius and their best water they had by conducts. Censorinus also came Qu»ntus Mar- of that familie, that was so surnamed, bicause the people hadthi^^ater by chosen him Censor twise. Through whose persuasion they conducts to made a lawe, that no man from thenceforth might require, or ^°"^^* enjoye the Censorshippe twise. Caius Martius, whose life we Censorinus intend now to write, being left an orphan by his father, was'^^®- brought up under his mother a widowe, who taught us by ex- perience, that orphanage bringeth many discommodities to a childe, but doth not hinder him to become an honest man, and to excell in vertue above the common sorte : as they are meanely borne, wrongfully doe complayne, that it is the oc- casion of their casting awaye, for that no man in their youth taketh any care of them to see them well brought up, and taught that were meete. This man also is a good proofe to confirme some mens opinions. That a rare and excellent witte Coriolanus untaught, doth bring forth many good and evill things together : ^i^- like as a fat soile bringeth forth herbes and weedes that lieth unmanured. For this Martius naturall wit and great harte dyd marvelously sturre up his corage, to doe and attempt notable actes. But on the other side for lacke of education, he was so chollericke and impacient, that he would yeld to no living creature: which made him churlishe, uncivill, and altogether unfit for any mans conversation. Yet men marvel- ing much at his constancy, that he was never overcome with pleasure, nor money, and howe he would endure easely all manner of paynes and travailles : thereupon they well liked

xxviii THE LIFE OF

and commended his stowtnes and temperancie. But for all that, they could not be acquainted with him, as one citizen useth to be with another in the citie. His behaviour was so unpleasaunt to them, by reason of a certaine insolent and Sterne manner he had, which because it was to lordly, was The benefit of disliked And to saye truely, the greatest benefit that learn- learning. jj^g bringeth men unto, is this : that it teacheth men that be rude and rough of nature, by compasse and rule of reason, to be civill and curteous, and to like better the meane state, then the higher. Now in these dayes, valliantnes was honoured in What this Rome above all other vertues : which they called Virtus, by \vorde Virtus the name of vertue selfe, as including in that generall name, all other speciall vertues besides. So that Virtus in the Latin, was asmuche as valliantnes. But Martius being more inclined to the warres, then any other gentleman of his time : beganne from his Childehood to geve him self to handle weapons, and daylie dyd exercise him selfe therein. And outward he esteemed armour to no purpose, unles one were naturally armed within. Moreover he dyd so exercise his bodie to hardnes, and all kynde of activitie, that he was very swift in running, strong in wrestling, and mightie in griping, so that no man could ever cast him. In so much as those that would trye masteries with him for strength and nimblenes, would saye when they were overcome : that all was by reason of his naturall strength, and hardnes of warde, that never yielded to any payne or toyle he tooke apon him. The first time he Coriolanus went to the warres, being but a strippling, was when Tarquine first going to surnamed the prowde (that had bene king of Rome, and was driven out for his pride, after many attemptes made by sundrie battells to come in againe, wherein he was ever overcome) dyd come to Rome with all the ayde of the Latines, and many other people of Italie : even as it were to set up his whole rest apon a battell by them, who with a great and mightie armie had undertaken to put him into his Kingdome againe, not so much to pleasure him, as to overthrowe the power of the Romaines, whose greatnes they both feared and envied. In this battell, wherein were many hotte and sharpe encounters of either partie, Martius valiantly fought in the sight of the Dictator ; and a Romaine souldier being throwen to the ground even hard by him, Martius straight bestrid him, and slue the enemie with his owne handes that had before overthrowen the Romaine. Hereupon, after the bgittell was wonne, the Dictator

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS xxix

dyd not forget so noble an acte, and therefore first of all he crowned Martius with a garland of oken boughs. For who- Coriolanus soever saveth the life a Romaine, it is a manner among them, crowned with to honour him with such a garland. . . . Moreover it is daylie ok^n^bJIighL. seene, that honour and reputation lighting on young men be- fore their time, and before they have no great corage by nature: the desire to winne more, dieth straight in them,Tosoden which easely happeneth, the same having no deepe roote in ^°"°i,"5^m1 them before. Where contrariwise, the first honour that valiant further desier mindes doe come unto, doth quicken up their appetite, hasting of fame, them forward as with force of winde, to enterprise things of highe deserving praise. For they esteeme, not to receave reward for service done, but rather take it for a remembraunce and encoragement, to make them doe better in time to come ; and be ashamed also to cast their honour at their heeles not seeking to increase it still by like deserte of worthie valliant dedes. This desire being bred in Martius, he strained still to passe him selfe in manlines : and being desirous to shewe a Coriolanus daylie increase of his valliantnes, his noble service dyd still "°^^^ ^"■ advaunce his fame, bringing in spoyles apon spoyles from the tinue well enemie. Whereupon, the captaines that came afterwards (for deserving, envie of them that went before) dyd contend who should most honour him, and who should beare most honourable testimonie of his valliantnes. In so much the Romaines having many warres and battells in those days, Coriolanus was at them all : and there was not a battel 1 fought, from whence he returned not without some rewarde of honour. And as for other, the only respect that made them valliant, was they hoped to have honour : but touching Martius, the only thing that made him to love honour, was the joye he sawe his mother dyd take of him. For he thought nothing made him so happie and honorable, as that his mother might heare every bodie praise and commend him, that she might allwayes see him returne with a crowne upon his head, and that she might still embrace him with teares ronning downe her cheekes for joye. Which desire they saye Epaminondas dyd avowe, and confesse to have Coriolanus bene in him : as to thinke him selfe a most happie and blessed ^"^ Epamin- man, that his father and mother in their life time had seene both place the victorie he wanne in the plaine of Leuctres. Now as for their desire of Epaminondas, he had this good happe, to have his father and ^°"°"^ ^^*^^- mother living, to be partakers of his joye and prosperitie. But Martius thinking all due to his mother, that had bene also

XXX

THE LIFE OF

The obedi- ence of Corio lanus to his mother.

Extremitie of userers com- plained of at Rome by the people.

Counsellers promises make men valliant, in hope of just performance.

Ingratitude, and good service unre- warded, pro- voketh rebel- lion.

due to his father if he had lived ; dyd not only content him selfe to rejoyce and honour her, but at her desire tooke a wife also, by whom he had two children, and yet never left his mothers house therefore. Now he being growen to great credit and authoritie in Rome for his valliantnes, it fortuned there grewe sedition in the cittie, because the Senate dyd favour the riche against the people, who dyd complaine of the sore op- pression of userers, of whom they borrowed money. For those that had little, were yet spoyled of that little they had by their creditours, for lacke ofabilitie to paye the userie : who offered their gOodes to be solde, to them that would geve most. And suche as had nothing left, their bodies were layed holde of, and they were made their bonde men, notwithstanding all the woundes and cuttes they shewed, which they had receyved in many battells, fighting for defence of their countrie and common wealth : of the which, the last warre they made, was against the Sabynes, wherein they fought apon the promise the riche men had made them, that from thenceforth they would intreate them more gently, and also upon the worde of Marcus Valerius chief of the Senate, who by authoritie of the counsell, and in the behalfe of the riche, sayed they should performe that they had promised. But after that they had faithfully served in this last battell of all, where they overcame their enemies, seeing they were never a whit the better, nor more gently in- treated, and that the Senate would geve no care to them, but make as though they had forgotten their former promise, and suffered them to be made slaves and bonde men to their creditours, and besides, to be turned out of all that ever they had : they fell then even to flat rebellion and mutine, and to sturre up daungerous tumultes within the cittie. The Romaines enemies hearing of this rebellion, dyd straight enter the terri- tories of Rome with a marvelous great power, spoyling and burning all as they came. Whereupon the Senate immediately made open proclamation by sounde of trumpet, that all those which were of lawfull age to carie weapon, should come and enter their names into the muster masters booke, to goe to the warres : but no man obeyed their commaundement. Whereupon their chief magistrates, and many of the Senate, beganne to be of divers opinions emong them selves. For some thought it was reason, they should somewhat yeld to the poore peoples request, and that they should a little qualifie the severitie of the lawe. Other held hard against that

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS xxxi

opinion, and that was Martins for one. For he alleged, Martius

that the creditours losing their money they had lent, was not Coriolanus

the worst thing that was thereby : but that the lenitie that people.

was favored, was a beginning of disobedience, and that the

prowde attempt of the communaltie, was to abolish lawe,

and to bring all to confusion. Therefore he sayed, if

the Senate were wise, they should betimes prevent, and

quenche this ill favored and worse ment beginning. The

Senate met many dayes in consultation about it : but in

the end they concluded nothing. The poore common

people seeing no redresse, gathered them selves one daye

together, and one encoraging another, they all forsooke the The people

cittie, and encamped them selves upon a hill, called at this ^^^y^^^^ ^^"'^

daye the holy hill, alongest the river of Tyber, offering no the holy hill.

creature any hurte or violence, or making any shewe of actuall

rebellion : saving that they cried as they went up and down,

that the riche men had driven them out of the cittie, and that

all Italie through they should finde ayer, water, and ground to

burie them in. Moreover, they sayed, to dwell at Rome was

nothing els but to be slaine, or hurte with continuall warres,

and fighting for defence of the riche mens goodes. The Senate

being afeard of their departure, dyd send unto them certaine

of the pleasauntest olde men, and the most acceptable to the

people among them. Of those, Menenius Agrippa was he,

who was sent for chief man of the message from the Senate.

He, after many good persuasions and gentle requestes made

to the people, on the behalfe of the Senate: knit up his

oration in the ende, with a notable tale, in this manner. That An excellent

on a time all the members of mans bodie, dyd rebell against *Jj'^ ^o^?^ ^y

the bellie, complaining of it, that it only remained in the Agrippa to

middest of the bodie, without doing anything, neither dyd pacific the

beare any labour to the maintenaunce of the rest : whereas all P^°P^^-

other partes and members dyd labour paynefully, and was very

carefull to satisfie the appetites and desiers of the bodie. And

so the bellie, all this notwithstanding, laughed at their follie,

and sayed : It is true, I first receyve all meates that norishe

mans bodie : but afterwards I send it againe to the norishe-

ment of other partes of the same. Even so (quoth he) O you,

my masters, and citizens of Rome: the reason is a like

betweene the Senate, and you. For matters being well

digested, and their counsells thoroughly examined, touching

the benefit of the common wealth : the Senatours are cause of

xxxii THE LIFE OF

the common commoditie that commeth unto every one of you. These persuasions pacified the people, conditionally, that the Senate would graunte there should be yerely chosen five The first be- magistrates, which they now call Tribuni Plebis^ whose office ginmng of should be to defend the poore people from violence and PleUs. oppression. So Junius Brutus, and Sicinius Vellutus, were

lunius Brutus, the first Tribunes of the people that were chosen, who had Sicinius only bene the causers and procurers of this sedition. Here-

Vellutus, the "^ ^, .^, . , . ^ . . j • ^ j •^•

2 first tri- Upon the cittie bemg growen agame to good quiet and unitie,

bunes. the people immediately went to the warres, shewing that they

had a good will to doe better than ever they dyd, and to be

very willing to obey the magistrates in that they would

commaund, concerning the warres. Martius also, though it

liked him nothing to see the greatnes of the people thus

increased, considering it was to the prejudice, and imbasing of

the nobilitie, and also sawe that other noble Patricians were

troubled as well as him selfe ; he dyd persuade the Patricians,

to shew them selves no lesse forward and willing to fight for

their countrie, then the common people were ; and to let them

knowe by their dedes and actes, that they dyd not so muche

passe the people in power and riches, as they dyd exceede

them in true nobilitie and valliantnes. In the countrie of the

Volsces, against whom the Romaines made warre at that time,

there was a principall cittie and of most fame, that was called

The cittie of Corioles, before the which the Consul Cominius dyd laye siege.

^°"°d^b ^th ^^^^'^fo^'^ ^1^ the other Volsces fearing least that cittie should

Consul be taken by assault, they came from all partes of the countrie

Cominius. to save it, entending to geve the Romaines battell before the

cittie, and to geve an onset on them in two severall places.

The Consul Cominius understanding this, devided his armie

also in two parts, and taking the one parte with him selfe, he

marched towards them that were drawing to the cittie, out of

the countrie ; and the other parte of his armie he left in the

Titus Lartius, campe with Titus Lartius (one of the valliantest men the

a vaihant Romaines had at that time) to resist those that would make

Komame. . ^ , . . ^ . ^i^., t

any salye out of the cittie upon them. So the Coriolans mak- ing small accompt of them that laye in campe before the cittie, made a salye out apon them, in the which at the first the Coriolans had the better, and drave the Romaines backe againe into the trenches of their campe. But Martius being there at that time, ronning out of the campe with a fewe men with him, he slue the first enemies he met withall, and made

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS xxxiii

the rest of them staye upon a sodaine, crying out to the Romaines that had turned their backes, and calling them againe to fight with a lowde voyce. For he was even such another, as Cato would have a souldier and a captaine to be ; The propertie not only terrible, and fierce to laye about him, but to make°^^ ^°"^^*"- the enemie afeard with the sounde of his voyce, and grimnes of his countenaunce. Then there flocked about him immediately, a great number of Romaines ; whereat the enemies were so afeard, that they gave backe presently. But Martius not staying so, dyd chase and followe them to their owne gates, that fled for life. And there, perceyving that the Romaines retired backe, for the great number of dartes and arrowes which flewe about their eares from the walles of the cittie, and that there was not one man amongst them that durst venter him selfe to followe the flying enemies into the cittie, for that it was full of men of warre, very well armed, and appointed ; he dyd encorage his fellowes with wordes and dedes, crying out to them, that fortune had opened the gates of the cittie, more for the followers, then the flyers. But all this notwith- standing, fewe had the hartes to followe him. Howbeit Martius being in the throng emong the enemies, thrust him selfe into the gates of the cittie, and entred the same emong them that fled, without that any one of them durst at the first turne their face upon him, or els offer to staye him. But he looking about him, and seeing he was entred the cittie with very fewe men to helpe him, and perceyving he was environned by his enemies that gathered round about to set upon him : dyd things then as it is written, wonderful! and incredible, aswell for the force of his hande, as also for the agillitie of his bodie, and with a wonderfull corage and valliantnes, he made a lane through the middest of them, and overthrewe also those he layed at : that some he made ronne to the furthest parte of the cittie, and other for feare he made yeld them selves, and to let fall their weapons before him. By this meanes, Lartius that was gotten out, had some leysure to bring the Romaines with more safety into the cittie. The cittie being The cittie of taken in this sorte, the most parte of the souldiers beganne ^"°^^^ incontinently to spoyle, to carie awaye, and to looke up the bootie they had wonne. But Martius was marvelous angry with them, and cried out on them, that it was no time now to looke after spoyle, and to ronne straggling here and there to enriche them selves, whilest the other Consul and their fellowe

xxxiv THE LIFE OF

cittizens peradventure were fighting with their enemies : and howe that leaving the spoyle they should seeke to winde them selves out of daunger and perill. Howbeit, crie, and saye to them what he could, very fewe of them would hearken to him. Wherefore taking those that willingly offered them selves to followe him, he went out of the cittie, and tooke his waye towardes that parte, where he understoode the rest of the armie was : exhorting and intreating them by the waye that followed him, not to be fainte harted, and ofte holding up his handes to heaven, he besought the goddes to be so gracious and favorable unto him, that he might come in time to the battell, and in good hower to hazarde his life in defence of his country men. Now the Romaines when they were put in battell raye, and ready to take their targettes on their armes, and to guirde them upon their arming coates, had a custome Souldiers to make their willes at that very instant, without any manner testaments. Qf writing, naming him only whom they would make their heire, in the presence of three or foure witnesses. IMartius came just to that reckoning, whilest the souldiers were a doing after that sorte, and that the enemies were approached so neere, as one stoode in viewe of the other. When they sawe him at his first comming, all bloody, and in a swet, and but with a fewe men following him : some thereupon beganne to be afeard. But sone after, when they sawe him ronne with a lively cheere to the Consul and to take him by the hande, declaring howe he had taken the cittie of Corioles, and that they sawe the Consul Cominius also kisse and embrace him ; then there was not a man but tooke harte againe to him, and beganne to be of a good corage, some hearing him reporte from poynte to poynte, the happy successe of this exployte, and other also conjecturing it by seeing their gestures a farre off. Then they all beganne to call upon the Consul to marche forward, and to delaye no lenger, but to geve charge upon the enemie, Martius asked him howe the order of their enemies battell was, and on which side they had placed their best fighting men. The Consul made him aunswer, that he thought the bandes which were in the voward of their battell, were those of the Antiates, whom they esteemed to be the warlikest men, and which for valliant corage would geve no place, to any of the hoste of their enemies. Then prayed Martius, to be set directly against them. The Consul graunted him, greatly praysing his corage. Then Martius, when both

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS xxxv

armies came almost to joyne, advaunced him selfe a good By Conolanus space before his companie, and went so fiercely to geve charge ?J^^"r^» *^^ on the voward that came right against him, that they could overcome in stande no lenger in his handes : he made suche a lane through battell. them, and opened a passage into the battell of the enemies. But the two winges of either side turned one to the other, to compasse him in betweene them : which the Consul Cominius perceyving, he sent thither straight of the best souldiers he had about him. So the battell was marvelous bloudie about Martius, and in a very shorte space many were slaine in the place. But in the ende the Romaines were so strong, that they distressed the enemies, and brake their arraye ; and scatter- ing them, made them five. Then they prayed Martius that he would retire to the campe, bicause they sawe he was able to doe no more, he was already so wearied with the great payne he had taken, and so ■linte with the great woundes he had apon him. But Martius aunswered them, that it was not for conquerours to yeld, nor to be fainte harted : and there- upon beganne a freshe to chase those that fled, until suche time as the armie of the enemies was utterly overthrowen, and numbers of them slaine, and taken prisoners. The next morning betimes, Martius went to the Consul, and the other Romaines with him. There the Consul Cominius going up to his chayer of state, in the presence of the whole armie, gave thankes to the goddes for so great, glorious, and prosperous a victorie : then he spake to Martius, whose valliantnes he commended beyond the moone, both for that he him selfe sawe him doe with his eyes, as also for that Martius had reported unto him. So in the ende he willed Martius, he should choose out of all the horses they had taken of their The tenth enemies, and of all the goodes they had wonne (whereof there P^^^^.°^^^® was great store) tenne of every sorte which he liked best, before goods offered any distribution should be made to other. Besides this great Martius for re- honorable offer he had made him, he gave him in testimonie^^^^^^t ^^ that he had wonne that daye the price of prowes above all Cominius the other, a goodly horse with a capparison, and all furniture to Consul. him : which the whole armie beholding, dyd marvelously praise and commend. But Martius stepping forth, tolde the Vaiiancie re- Consul, he most thanckefully accepted the gifte of his horse, ^^^^^^ ?^^^J? and was a glad man besides, that his service had deserved fieide. his generalls commendation ; and as for his other offer, which was rather a mercenary reward, then an honorable recom-

xxxvi THE LIFE OF

pence, he would none of it, but was contented to have his Martlus noble equall parte with other souldiers. Only, this grace (sayed he) answer and I crave, and beseeche you to graunt me. Among the Volsces there is an olde friende and hoste of mine, an honest wealthie man, and now a prisoner, who living before in great wealth in his owne countrie, liveth now a poore prisoner in the handes of his enemies : and yet notwithstanding all this his miserie and misfortune, it would doe me great pleasure if I could save him from this one daunger: to keepe him from being solde as a slave. The souldiers hearing Martius wordes, made a marvelous great showte among them : and they were moe that wondred at his great contentation and abstinence, when they sawe so little covetousnes in him, then they were that highely praised and extolled his valliantnes. For even they them selves, that dyd somewhat malice and envie his glorie, to see him thus honoured, and passingly praysed, dyd thincke him so muche the more worthy of an honorable recompence for his valliant service, as the more carelesly he refused the great offer made him for his profit : and they esteemed more the vertue that was in him, that made him refuse suche re- wards, then that which made them to be offred him, as unto a worthie persone. For it is farre more commendable, to use riches well, then to be valliant : and yet it is better not to desire them, then to use them well. After this showte and noyse of the assembly was somewhat appeased, the Consul Cominius beganne to speake in this sorte : We cannot compell Martius to take these giftes we offer him, if he will not receave them : but we will geve him suche a rewarde for the noble Martius sur- service he hath done, as he cannot refuse. Therefore we doe named Corio- order and decree, that henceforth he be called Coriolanus,

lanus by the 11.,,. 1 1 • 1 . 1 r

Consul. onles his valliant acts have wonne him that name before our

nomination. And so ever since, he still bare the third name of Coriolanus. . . . Now when this warre was ended, the flatterers of the people beganne to sturre up sedition againe, without any newe occasion, or just matter offered of com- plainte. For they dyd grounde this seconde insurrection against the Nobilitie and Patricians, apon the peoples miserie and misfortune, that could not but fall out, by reason of the former discorde and sedition betweene them and the Nobilitie. Bicause the most parte of the errable lande within the territorie of Rome, was become heathie and barren for lacke of plowing, for that they had no time nor meane to cause corne, to be

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS xxxvii

brought them out of other countries to sowe, by reason of Sedition at their warres which made the extreme dearth they had emonsr ^°"^^» ^y them. Now those busie pratlers that sought the peoples good famine, will, by suche flattering wordes, perceyving great scarsitie of corne to be within the cittie, and though there had bene plenty enough, yet the common people had no money to buye it : they spread abroad false tales and rumours against the Nobilitie, that they in revenge of the people, had practised and procured the extreme dearthe emong them. Further- more, in the middest of this sturre, there came ambassadours to Rome from the cittie of Velitres, that offered up their cittie to the Romaines, and prayed them they would send newe inhabitants to replenishe the same : bicause the plague had bene so extreme emong them, and had killed such a number of them, as there was not left alive the tenth persone of the people that had bene there before. So the wise men of Rome beganne to thincke, that the necessitie of the Velitrians fell out in a most happy hower, and howe by this occasion it was very mete in so great a scarsitie of vittailes, to disburden Rome of a great number of cittizens : and by this meanes as well to take awaye this newe sedition, and utterly to ryd it out of the cittie, as also to cleare the same of many mutinous and seditious persones, being the superfluous ill humours that grevously fedde this disease. Hereupon the Consuls prickt Velitres made out all those by a bill, whom they intended to sende to|^o^°"^^^o Velitres, to goe dwell there as in forme of a colonie : and they leavied out of all the rest that remained in the cittie of Rome, a great number to goe against the Volsces, hoping by the meanes of forreine warre, to pacifie their sedition at home. Moreover they imagined, when the poore with the riche, and Two practises the meane sorte with the nobilitie, should by this devise be to/5P°"^5 ^^^

, J . . ' ^ . . sedition m

abroad m the warres, and m one campe, and in one service, Rome, and in one like daunger : that then they would be more quiet and loving together. But Sicinius and Brutus, two seditious Sicinius and Tribunes, spake against either of these devises, and cried out ^'^"'^^ J^"j- upon the noble men, that under the gentle name of a colonie, people, they would cloke and culler the most cruell and unnatural! against both facte as might be : bicause they sent their poore cittizens into ^^°^^ devises. a sore infected cittie and pestilent ayer, full of dead bodies unburied, and there also to dwell under the tuytion of a straunge god, that had so cruelly persecuted his people. This were (said they) even as muche, as if the Senate should

xxxviii THE LIFE OF

hedlong cast downe the people into a most bottomles pyt. And are not yet contented to have famished some of the poore cittizens hertofore to death, and to put other of them even to the mercie of the plague : but a freshe, they have procured a voluntarie warre, to the ende they would leave behind no kynde of miserie and ill, wherewith the poore syllie people should not be plagued, and only bicause they are werie to serve the riche. The common people being set on a broyle and braverie with these wordes, would not appeare when the Consuls called their names by a bill, to prest them for the warres, neither would they be sent out to this newe colonic : in so muche as the Senate knewe not well what to saye, or doe in the matter. Martius then, who was now growen to great credit, and a stowte man besides, and of great repu- tation with the noblest men of Rome, rose up, and openly spake against these flattering Tribunes. And for the re- plenishing of the cittie of Velitres, he dyd compell those that were chosen, to goe thither, and to departe the cittie, apon great penalties to him that should disobey : but to the warres, the people by no meanes would be brought or constrained. Coriolanus of- So Martius taking his friendes and followers with him, and fendeth the g^^j^ ^g j^g could by fayer wordes intreate to goe with him, dyd ronne certen forreyes into the dominion of the Antiates, where he met with great plenty of corne, and had a marvelous Coriolanus in- spoyle, aswell of cattell, as of men he had taken prisoners, ^deth the whom he brought awaye with him, and reserved nothing for bringeth'rich him selfe. Afterwardes having brought backe againe all his spoyles home, men that went out with him, safe and sounde to Rome, and every man riche and loden with spoyle : then the hometarriers and housedoves that kept Rome still, beganne to repent them that it was not their happe to goe with him, and so envied both them that had sped so well in this jorney, and also of malice to Martius, they spited to see his credit and estimation increase still more and more, bicause they accompted him to be a great hinderer of the people. Shortely after this, Martius stoode for the Consulshippe : and the common people favored his sute, thinking it would be a shame to them to denie, and refuse, the chiefest noble man of bloude, and most worthie persone of Rome, and specially him that had done so great The manner service and good to the common wealth. For the custome of offic^"^at^ ^^^ Rome was at that time, that suche as dyd sue for any office, Rome. should for certen dayes before be in the market place, only

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS xxxix

with a poore gowne on their backes, and without any coate underneath, to praye the cittizens to remember them at the daye of election: which was thus devised, either to move the Whereupon people the more, by requesting^ them in suche meane apparell/^'^ manner

11- 1-111 1- 1 1 , 'ofsuying was

or els bicause they might shewe them their woundes they had so devised.

gotten in the warres in the service of the common wealth, as

manifest markes and testimonie of their valliantnes. Now it

is not to be thought that the suters went thus lose in a simple

gowne in the market place, without any coate under it, for feare,

and suspition of the common people : for offices of dignitie in Offices geven

the cittie were not then geven by favour or corruption. . . . ^^^" ^^.^ ^' ,

XT T»/r • r 11 • 1 • 1 1 1 sert, Without

Now Martius following this custome, shewed many woundes favour or cor- and cuttes upon his bodie, which he had receyved in seven- ruption. teene yeres service at the warres, and in many sundrie battells, being ever the formest man that dyd set out feete to fight. So that there was not a man emong the people, but was ashamed of him selfe, to refuse so valliant a man : and one of them sayed to another, We must needes chuse him Consul, there is no remedie. But when the daye of election was come, and that Martius came to the market place with great pompe, accompanied with all the Senate, and the whole Nobilitie of the cittie about him, who sought to make him Consul, with the greatest instance and intreatie they could, or ever attempted for any man or matter : then the love and good will of the common people, turned straight to an hate and envie toward See the fickle him, fearing to put this office of soveraine authoritie into his"^'"^^^°^ handes, being a man somewhat partiall toward the nobilitie, people, and of great credit and authoritie amongest the Patricians, and as one they might doubt would take away altogether the libertie from the people. Whereupon for these considera- tions, they refused Martius in the ende, and made two other that were suters, Consuls. The Senate being marvelously offended with the people, dyd accompt the shame of this refusall, rather to redownd to them selves, then to Martius : but Martius tooke it in farre worse parte then the Senate, and was out of all pacience. For he was a man to full of passion and choller, and to muche geven to over selfe will and opinion, as one of a highe minde and great corage, that lacked the gravity, and affabilitie that is gotten with judgment of learning and reason, which only is to be looked for in a governour of state : and that remembered not how wilfulnes is the thing of the world, which a governour of a common wealth for pleasing

xl

THE LIFE OF

The fruites of selfe will and obstinacie.

Great store of come brought to Rome.

Coriolanus oration against the insolencie of the people.

should shonne, being that which Plato called solitarines. As in the ende, all men that are wilfully geven to a selfe opinion and obstinate minde, and who will never yeld to others reason, but to their owne : remaine without companie, and forsaken of all men. For a man that will live in the world, must nedes have patience, which lusty bloudes make but a mocke at. So Martius being a stowte man of nature, that never yelded in any respect, as one thincking that to overcome allwayes, and to have the upper hande in all matters, was a token of magnanimitie, and of no base and fainte corage, which spitteth out anger from the most weake and passioned parte of the harte, much like the matter of an impostume : went home to his house, full fraighted with spite and malice against the people, being accompanied with all the lustiest young gentle- men, whose mindes were nobly bent, as those that came of noble race and commonly used for to followe and honour him. But then specially they floct about him, and kept him com- panie, to his muche harme : for they dyd but kyndle and inflame his choller more and more, being sorie with him for the injurie the people offred him, bicause he was their captaine and leader to the warres, that taught them all marshall discipline, and stirred up in them a noble emulation of honour and valliantnes, and yet without envie, praising them that deserved best. In the meane season, there came great plenty of corne to Rome, that had bene bought, parte in Italie, and parte was sent out of Sicile, as geven by Gelon the tyranne of Syracusa : so that many stoode in great hope, that the dearthe of vittells being holpen, the civill dissention would also cease. The Senate sate in counsell upon it immediatly, the common people stoode also about the palice where the counsell was kept, gaping what resolution would fall out : persuading them selves, that the corne they had bought should be solde good cheape, and that which was geven, should be devided by the polle, without paying any pennie, and the rather, bicause certaine of the Senatours amongest them dyd so wishe and persuade the same. But Martius standing up on his feete, dyd somewhat sharpely take up those, who went about to gratifie the people therein : and called them people pleasers, and traitours to the nobilitie. * Moreover he sayed they ' nourrished against them selves, the naughty seede and cockle, ' of insolencie and sedition, which had bene sowed and * scattered abroade emongest the people, whom they should

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS xli

' have cut of, if they had bene wise, and have prevented their

* greatnes : and not to their owne destruction to have suffered

* the people, to stablishe a magistrate for them selves, of so

* great power and authoritie, as that man had, to whom they

* had graunted it. Who was also to be feared, bicause he 'obtained what he would, and dyd nothing but what he listed, ' neither passed for any obedience to the Consuls, but lived in

* all libertie, acknowledging no superiour to commaund him, ' saving the only heades and authours of their faction, whom 'he called his magistrates. Therefore sayed he, they that

* gave counsell, and persuaded that the corne should be geven

* out to the common people gratis^ as they used to doe in ' citties of Graece, where the people had more absolute power : 'dyd but only nourishe their disobedience, which would breake 'out in the ende, to the utter ruine and overthrowe of the ' whole state. For they will not thincke it is done in recom- ' pense of their service past, sithence they know well enough ' they have so ofte refused to goe to the warres, when they ' were commaunded : neither for their mutinies when they

* went with us, whereby they have rebelled and forsaken their 'countrie: neither for their accusations which their flatterers 'have preferred unto them, and they have receyved, and made

* good against the Senate : but they will rather judge we geve ' and graunt them this, as abasing our selves, and standing in

* feare of them, and glad to flatter them every waye. By this ' meanes, their disobedience will still growe worse and worse : 'and they will never leave to practise newe sedition, and ' uprores. Therefore it were a great follie for us, me thinckes ' to doe it : yea, shall I saye more ? we should if we were wise, 'take from them their Tribuneshippe, which most manifestly ' is the embasing of the Consulshippe, and the cause of the 'division of the cittie. The state whereof as it standeth, is ' not now as it was wont to be, but becommeth dismembred in

* two factions, which mainteines allwayes civill dissention and ' discorde betwene us, and will never suffer us againe to be 'united into one bodie.' Martius dilating the matter with many such like reasons wanne all the young men, and almost all the riche men to his opinion : in so much they range it out, that he was the only man, and alone in the cittie, who stoode out against the people, and never flattered them. There were only a fewe olde men that spake against him, fearing least some mischief might fall out upon it, as in dede there followed

xlii THE LIFE OF

no great good afterward. For the Tribunes of the people, being present at this consultation of the Senate, when they sawe that the opinion of Martius was confirmed with the more voyces, they left the Senate, and went downe to the people, crying out for helpe, and that they would assemble to save their Tribunes. Hereupon the people ranne on head in tumult together, before whom the wordes that Martius spake in the Senate were openly reported : which the people so stomaked, that even in that furie they were readie to flye apon the whole Senate. But the Tribunes layed all their faulte and burden wholy upon Martius, and sent their sergeantes forthwith to arrest him, presently to appeare in persone before the people, to answer the wordes he had spoken in the Senate. Martius stowtely withstoode these officers that came to arrest him. Sedition at Then the Tribunes in their owne persones, accompanied with Rome for t^g ^diles, went to fetche him by force, and so layed violent hands upon him. Howbeit the noble Patricians gathering together about him, made the Tribunes geve backe, and layed it sore upon the ^diles : so for that time, the night parted them, and the tumult appeased. The next morning betimes, the Consuls seing the people in an uprore, ronning to the market place out of all partes of the cittie, they were affrayed least all the cittie would together by the eares : wherefore assembling the Senate in all hast, they declared how it stoode them upon, to appease the furie of the people, with some gentle wordes, or gratefull decrees in their favour : and more- over, like wise men they should consider, it was now no time to stande at defence and in contention, nor yet to fight for honour against the communaltie : they being fallen to so great an extremitie, and offering such imminent daunger. Where- fore they were to consider temperately of things, and to deliver some present and gentle pacification. The most parte of the Senatours that were present at this counsaill, thought this opinion best, and gave their consents unto it. Whereupon the Consuls rising out of counsaill, went to speake unto the people as gently as they could, and they dyd pacifie their furie and anger, purging the Senate of all the unjust accusa- tions layed upon them, and used great modestie in persuading them, and also in reproving the faultes they had committed. And as for the rest, that touched the sale of corne : they promised there should be no disliking offred them in the price. So the most parte of the people being pacified, and appearing

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS xliii

so plainely by the great silence and still that was emong them, as yelding to the Consuls, and liking well of their wordes : the Tribunes then of the people rose out of their seates, and sayed : Forasmuch as the Senate yelded unto reason, the people also for their parte, as became them, dyd likewise geve place unto them : but notwithstanding, they would that Martius should come in persone to aunswer to the articles they had devised. First, whether he had not solicited and procured Articles the Senate to chaunge the present state of the common weale, ^,^^1"?'

• 1-- r ^ 111 Conolanus.

and to take the soveraine authontie out of the peoples nandes.

Next, when he was sent for by authoritie of their officers, why

he dyd contemptuously resist and disobey. Lastely, seeing

he had driven and beaten the ^diles into the market place

before all the worlde : if in doing this, he had not done as

muche as in him laye, to raise civille warres, and to set one

cittizen against another. All this was spoken to one of these

two endes, either that Martius against his nature should be

constrained to humble him selfe, and to abase his hawty and

fierce minde : or els if he continued still in his stowtnes, he

should incurre the peoples displeasure and ill will so farre,

that he should never possibly winne them againe. Which

they hoped would rather fall out so, then otherwise;

as in deede they gest unhappely, considering Martius

nature and disposition. So Martius came, and presented

him selfe, to aunswer their accusations against him, and

the people held their peace, and gave attentive eare, to heare

what he would saye. But where they thought to have heard

very humble and lowly wordes come from him, he beganne not

only to use his wonted boldnes of speaking (which of it selfe Coriolanus

was very rough and unpleasaunt, and dyd more aggravate his stowtnes m

accusation, then purge his innocencie) but also gave him selfe him selfe.

in his wordes to thunder, and looke therewithal! so grimly as

though he made no reckoning of the matter. This stirred

coales emong the people, who were in wonderfull furie at it,

and their hate and malice grewe so toward him, that they

could holde no longer, beare, nor indure his bravery and careles

boldnes. Whereupon Sicinius, the cruellest and stowtest ofsiciniusthe

the Tribunes, after he had whispered a little with his com- tribune pro-

,' ■ 1 r riii_ 1 nounceth sen-

panions, dyd openly pronounce m the face ot all the people, tence of death Martius as condemned by the Tribunes to dye. Then presently upon Martius. he commanded the ^diles to apprehend him, and carie him straight to the rocke Tarpeian, and to cast him hedlong downe

xliv THE LIFE OF

the same. When the ^diles came to laye handes upon Martius to doe that they were commaunded, divers of the people them selves thought it to cruell, and violent a dede. The noble men also being muche troubled to see such force and rigour used, beganne to crie alowde, Helpe Martius : so those that layed handes of him being repulsed, they compassed him in rounde emong them selves, and some of them holding up their handes to the people, besought them not to handle him thus cruelly. But neither their wordes, nor crying out could ought prevaile, the tumulte and hurly burley was so great, untill suche time as the Tribunes owne friendes and kinsemen weying with them selves the impossiblenes to con- vey Martius to execution, without great slaughter and murder of the nobilitie : dyd persuade and advise not to proceede in so violent and extraordinary a sorte, as to put such a man to death, without lawfull processe in lawe, but that they should referre the sentence of his death, to the free voyce of the people. Then Sicinius bethinking him self a little, dyd aske the Patricians, for what cause they tooke Martius out of the officers handes that went to doe execution ? The Patricians asked him againe, why they would of them selves, so cruelly and wickedly put to death, so noble and valliant a Romaine, as Martius was, and that without lawe or justice ? Well, then sayed Sicinius, if that be the matter, let there be no more quarrell or dissention against the people : for they doe graunt your demaunde, that his cause shalbe heard according to the law. Therefore sayed he to Martius, We doe will and charge Coriolanus you to appeare before the people, the third daye of our next hath daye sitting and assembly here, to make your purgation for such funswer the° articles as shalbe objected against you, that by free voyce the people. people maye geve sentence upon you as shall please them.

The noble men were glad then of the adjornment, and were muche pleased they had gotten Martius out of this daunger. In the meane space, before the third day of their next cession came about, the same being kept every nineth daye continually at Rome, whereupon they call it now in Latin, Nundinoe : there fell out warre against the Antiates, which gave some hope to the nobilitie, that this adjornment would come to little effect, thinking that this warre would hold them so longe, as that the furie of the people against him would be well swaged or utterly forgotten, by reason of the trouble of the warres. But contrarie to expectation, the peace was concluded presently

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS xlv

with the Antiates, and the people returned again to Rome. Then the Patricians assembled oftentimes together, to consult how they might stande to Martius, and keepe the Tribunes from occasion to cause the people to mutine againe, and rise against the nobilitie. And there Appius Clodius (one that was taken ever as an heavy enemie to the people) dyd avowe and protest, that they would utterly abase the authoritie of the Senate, and destroye the common weale, if they would suffer the common people to have authoritie by voyces to geve judgment against the nobilitie. On thother side againe, the most auncient Senatours, and suche as were geven to favour the common people sayed : that when the people should see they had authoritie of life and death in their handes, they would not be so cruell and fierce, but gentle and civill. More also, that it was not for contempt of nobilitie or the Senate, that they sought to have the authoritie of justice in their handes, as a preheminence and prerogative of honour : but bicause they feared, that them selves should be contemned and hated of the nobilitie. So as they were persuaded, that so sone as they gave them authoritie to judge by voyces : so sone would they leave all envie and malice to condemne anye. Martius seeing the Senate in great doubt how to resolve, partely for the love and good will the nobilitie dyd beare him, and partely for the feare they stoode in of the people : asked alowde of the Tribunes, what matter they would burden him with ? The Tribunes answered him, that they would shewe Coriolanus howe he dyd aspire to be King, and would prove that all his accused that actions tended to usurpe tyrannicall power over Rome, be King. Martius with that, rising up on his feete, sayed : that there- upon he dyd willingly offer him self to the people, to be tried apon that accusation. And that if it were proved by him, he had so much as once thought of any suche matter, that he would then refuse no kinde of punishment they would offer him : conditionally (quoth he) that you charge me with nothing els besides, and that ye doe not also abuse the Senate. They promised they would not. Under these conditions the judg- ment was agreed upon, and the people assembled. And first of all the Tribunes would in any case (whatsoever became of it) that the people would proceede to geve their voyces by Tribes, and not by hundreds : for by this meanes the multitude of the poore needy people (and all suche rable as had nothing to lose, and had lesse regard of honestie before their eyes)

xlvi THE LIFE OF

came to be of greater force (bicause their voyces were numbred by the polle) then the noble honest cittizens, whose persones and purse dyd duetifully serve the common wealth in their warres. And then when the Tribunes sawe they could not prove he went about to make him self King : they beganne to broache a freshe the former wordes that Martius had spoken in the Senate, in hindering the distribution of the corne at meane price unto the common people, and persuading also to take the office of Tribuneshippe from them. And for the third, they charged him a newe, that he had not made the common distribution of the spoyle he had gotten in the invading the territories of the Antiates : but had of his owne authoritie devided it among them, who were with him in that jorney. But this matter was most straunge of all to Martius, looking least to have bene burdened with that, as with any matter of offence. Whereupon being burdened on the sodaine, and having no ready excuse to make even at that instant : he be- ganne to fall a praising of the souldiers that had served with him in that jorney. But those that were not with him, being the greater number, cried out so lowde, and made suche a noyse, that he could not be heard. To conclude, when they came to tell the voyces of the Tribes, there were three voyces Corlolanus odde, which condemned him to be banished for life. After Sr"^^ °^ declaration of the sentence, the people made suche joye, as they never rejoyced more for any battell they had wonne upon their enemies, they were so brave and lively, and went home so jocondly from the assembly, for triumphe of this sentence. The Senate againe in contrary manner were as sad and heavie, repenting them selves beyond measure, that they had not rather determined to have done and suffered any thing what- soever, before the common people should so arrogantly, and outrageously have abused their authoritie. There needed no difference of garments I warrant you, nor outward showes to know a Plebeian from a Patrician, for they were easely de- cerned by their lookes. For he that was on the peoples side, looked cheerely on the matter : but he that was sad, and honge downe his head, he was sure of the noble mens side. Saving Martius alone, who neither in his countenaunce, nor in his gate, dyd ever showe him selfe abashed, or once let fall his great corage ; but he only of all other gentlemen that were angrie at his fortune, dyd outwardly shewe no manner of passion, nor care at all of him selfe. Not that he dyd paciently

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS xlvii

beare and temper his good happe, in respect of any reason he

had, or by his quiet condition ; but bicause he was so carried Coriolanus

awaye with the vehemencie of anger, and desire of revenge, ^0"^'^".^

that he had no sence nor feeling of the hard state he was in, versitfe!"

which the common people judge, not to be sorow, although in

dede it be the very same. For when sorow (as you would The force of

saye) is set a fyre, then it is converted into spite and malice, ^"g^^.

and driveth awaye for that time all faintnes of harte and

naturall feare. And this is the cause why the chollericke man

is so altered, and mad in his actions, as a man set a fyre with

a burning agewe : for when a mans harte is troubled within, his

pulse will beate marvelous strongely. Now that Martius was

even in that taking, it appeared true sone after by his doinges.

For when he was come home to his house againe, and had

taken his leave of his mother and wife, finding them weeping,

and shreeking out for sorrowe, and had also comforted and

persuaded them to be content with his chaunce: he went

immediately to the gate of the cittie, accompanied with a great

number of Patricians that brought him thither, from whence he

went on his waye with three or foure of his friendes only,

taking nothing with him, nor requesting any thing of any man.

So he remained a fewe dayes in the countrie at his houses,

turmoyled with sundry sortes and kynde of thoughtes, suche as

the fyer of his choller dyd sturre up. In the ende, seeing he

could resolve no waye, to take a profitable or honorable

course, but only was pricked forward still to be revenged

of the Romaines : he thought to raise up some great warres

against them, by their neerest neighbours. Whereupon,

he thought it his best waye, first to stirre up the Volsces

against them, knowing they were yet able enough in

strength and riches to encounter them, notwithstanding

their former losses they had receyved not long before,

and that their power was not so muche impaired, as their

malice and desire was increased, to be revenged of the

Romaines. Now in the cittie of Antium, there was one called

Tullus Aufidius, who for his riches, as also for his nobilitie Tullus Aufi-

and valliantnes, was honoured emong the Volsces as a King. ^'"^' ^ g^eate

Martius knewe very well, that Tullus dyd more malice and emong the

envie him, then he dyd all the Romaines besides : bicause Volsces.

that many times in battells where they met, they were ever

at the encounter one against another, like lustie coragious

youthes, striving in all emulation of honour, and had en-

xlviii

THE LIFE OF

Coriolanus disguised, goeth to Antium, a citie of the Volsces.

Coriolanus oration to TuUus Aufi- dius.

countered many times together. In so muche, as besides the common quarrell betweene them, there was bred a marvelous private hate one against another. Yet notwithstanding, con- sidering that Tullus Aufidius was a man of a great minde, and that he above all other of the Volsces, most desired re- venge of the Romaines, for the injuries they had done unto them : he dyd an acte that confirmed the true wordes of an auncient Poet, who sayed :

It is a thing full harde, mans anger to withstand.

If it be stiffely bent to take an enterprise in hande.

For then most men will have, the thing that they desire,

Although it cost their lives therefore, suche force hath wicked ire.

And so dyd he. For he disguised him selfe in suche arraye and attire, as he thought no man could ever have knowen him for the persone he was, seeing him in that ap- parell he had upon his backe: and as Homer sayed of Ulysses,

So dyd he enter into the enemies towne.

It was even twy light when he entred the cittie of Antium, and many people met him in the streetes, but no man knewe him. So he went directly to Tullus Aufidius house, and when he came thither, he got him up straight to the chimney harthe, and sat him downe, and spake not a worde to any man, his face all muffled over. They of the house spying him, wondered what he should be, and yet they durst not byd him rise. For ill favoredly muffled and disguised as he was, yet there appeared a certaine majestie in his countenance, and in his silence : whereupon they went to Tullus who was at supper, to tell him of the straunge disguising of this man. Tullus rose presently from the borde, and comming towards him, asked him what he was, and wherefore he came. Then Martius unmufifled him selfe, and after he had paused a while, making no aunswer, he sayed unto him : ' If thou knowest me ' not yet, Tullus, and seeing me, dost not perhappes beleeve

* me to be the man I am in dede, I must of necessitie bewraye

* my selfe to be that I am. I am Caius Martius, who hath

* done to thy self particularly, and to all the Volsces generally,

* great hurte and mischief, which I cannot denie for my sur-

* name of Coriolanus that I beare. For I never had other

* benefit nor recompence, of all the true and paynefull service

* I have done and the extreme daunger I have benq in, but

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS xlix

' this only surname : a good memorie and witnes, of the malice 'and displeasure thou showldest beare me. In deede the

* name only remaineth with me : for the rest, the envie and

* crueltie of the people of Rome have taken from me, by the 'sufferance of the dastardly nobilitie and magistrates, who ' have forsaken me, and let me be banished by the people. 'This extremitie hath now driven me to come as a poore ' suter, to take thy chimney harthe, not of any hope I have ' to save my life thereby. For if I had feared death, I would ' not have come hither to have put my life in hazard : but ' prickt forward with spite and desire I have to be revenged of 'them that thus have banished me, whom now I beginne to

* be avenged on, putting my persone betweene thy enemies. 'Wherefore, if thou hast any harte to be wrecked of the ' injuries thy enemies have done thee, speede thee now, and ' let my miserie serve thy turne, and so use it, as my service ' maye be a benefit to the Volsces : promising thee, that I 'will fight with a better good will for all you, then ever I

* dyd when I was against you, knowing that they fight more ' valliantly, who knowe the force of their enemie, then such 'as have never proved it. And if it be so that thou dare not,

* and that thou art wearye to prove fortune any more : then 'am I also weary to live any lenger. And it were no 'wisedome in thee, to save the life of him, who hath bene 'heretofore thy mortall enemie, and whose service now can 'nothing helpe nor pleasure thee.' Tullus hearing what he sayed, was a marvelous glad man, and taking him by the hande, he sayed unto him : Stande up, O Martius, and bee of good chere, for in profering thy selfe unto us, thou dost us great honour : and by this meanes thou mayest hope also of greater things, at all the Volsces handes. So he feasted him for that time, and entertained him in the honorablest manner he could, talking with him in no other matters at that present : but within fewe dayes after, they fell to con- sultation together, in what sorte they should beginne their warres. Now on thother side, the cittie of Rome was in marvelous uprore, and discord, the nobilitie against the com- Great dlssen- munaltie, and chiefly for Martius condemnation and banish- *^*°" at Rome

-kT rr^ 11 1 Ti/r • 1 1 r about Maitius

ment. . . . Now Tullus and Martius had secret conference banishment, with the greatest personages of the cittie of Antium, declaring unto them, that now they had good time offered them to make warre with the Romaines, while they were in dissention d

1 THE LIFE OF

one with another. They aunswered them, they were ashamed to breake the league, considering that they were sworne to keepe peace for two yeres. Howbeit shortely after, the Romaines gave them great occasion to make warre with them. TheRomainesFor on a holy daye common playes being kept in Rome, gave tjie ^ apon some suspition, or false reporte, they made proclamation sion of warres. by sound of trumpet, that all the Volsces should avoyde out of Rome before sunne set. Some thincke this was a crafte and deceipt of Martius, who sent one to Rome to the Consuls, to accuse the Volsces falsely, advertising them howe they had Martius made a conspiracie to set upon them, whilest they were busie

Coriolanus jj^ seeing these games, and also to set their cittie a fyre. This tionofthe Open proclamation made all the Volsces more offended with Volsces. the Romaines, then ever they were before : and Tullus aggra- vating the matter, dyd so inflame the Volsces against them, that in the ende they sent their ambassadours to Rome, to summone them to deliver their landes and townes againe, which they had taken from them in times past, or to looke for present warres. The Romaines hearing this, were marvel- ously netled : and made no other aunswer but thus : If the Volsces be the first that beginne warre : the Romaines will be the last that will ende it. Incontinently upon returne of the Volsces ambassadours, and deliverie of the Romaines aunswer : Tullus caused an assembly generall to be made of the Volsces, and concluded to make warre upon the Romaines. This done, Tullus dyd counsell them to take Martius into their service, and not to mistrust him for the remembraunce of any thing past, but boldely to trust him in any matter to come : for he would doe them more service in fighting for them, then ever he dyd them displeasure in fighting against them. So Martius was called forth, who spake so excellently in the presence of them all, that he was thought no less eloquent in tongue, then warlike in showe : and declared him Coriolanus selfe both expert in warres, and wise with valliantnes. Thus chosen gener- he was joyned in comrnission with Tullus as generall of the Volsces ^with Volsces, having absolute authoritie betwene them to follow Tullus Aufi- and pursue the warres. But Martius fearing least tract of fhe Rwn'^nes ^^"^^ *° bring this armie togither with all the munition and * furniture of the Volsces, would robbe him of the meane he had to execute his purpose and intent: left order with the rulers and chief of the cittie, to assemble the rest of their power, and to prepare all necessary provision for the campe.

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS U

Then he with the h'ghtest souldiers he had, and that were Coriolanus in- willing to followe him, stale awaye upon the sodaine, and^^^?^^ }^^ marched with all speede, and entred the territories of Rome, of the Ro- before the Romaines heard any newes of his comming. In son^aines. much the Volsces found such spoyle in the fields, as they had more than they could spend in their campe, and were wearie to drive and carie awaye that they had. Howbeit the gayne of the spoyle and the hurte they dyd to the Romaines in this invasion, was the least parte of his intent For his chiefest purpose was, to increase still the malice and dissention A fine devise between the nobilitie, and the communaltie : and to drawe *° "^^^^ *^^^ that on, he was very carefuU to keepe the noble mens landes suspect the and goods safe from harme and burning, but spoyled all the nobilitie. whole countrie besides, and would suffer no man to take or hurte any thing of the noble mens. This made greater sturre Great harte and broyle betweene the nobilitie and people, then was before, burning be- For the noble men fell out with the people, bicause they had nobilitie and so unjustly banished a man of so great valure and power, people. The people on thother side, accused the nobilitie, how they had procured Martius to make these warres, to be revenged of them : bicause it pleased them to see their goodes burnt and spoyled before their eyes, whilest them selves were well at ease, and dyd behold the peoples losses and misfortunes, and knowing their owne goodes safe and out of daunger : and howe the warre was not made against the noble men, that had the enemie abroad, to keepe that they had in safety. Now Martius having done this first exploite (which made the Volsces bolder, and lesse fearefuU of the Romaines) brought home all the armie againe, without losse of any man. After their whole armie (which was marvelous great, and very forward to service) was assembled in one campe : they agreed to leave parte of it for garrison in the countrie about, and the other parte should goe on, and make the warre upon the Romaines. So Martius bad Tullus choose, and take which of the two charges he liked best. Tullus made him aunswer, he knewe by experience that Martius was no lesse valliant then him selfe, and howe he ever had better fortune and good happe in all battells, then him selfe had Therefore he thought it best for him to have the leading of those that should make the warres abroade : and him selfe would keepe home, to provide for the safety of the citties and of his countrie, and to furnishe the campe also of all necessary

lii THE LIFE OF

provision abroade. So Martius being stronger then before, went first of all unto the cittie of Circees, inhabited by the Romaines, who willingly yielded them selves, and therefore had no hurte. From thence, he entred the countrie of the Latines, imagining the Romaines would fight with him there, to defend the Latines, who were their confederates, and had many times sent unto the Romaines for their ayde. But on the one side, the people of Rome were very ill willing to goe : and on the other side the Consuls being apon their going out of their office, would not hazard them selves for so small a time : so that the ambassadours of the Latines returned home againe, and dyd no good. Then Martius dyd besiege their citties, and having taken by force the townes of the Tolerinians, Vicanians, Pedanians, and the Bolanians, who made resistance : he sacked all their goodes, and tooke them prisoners. Suche as dyd yeld them selves willingly unto him, he was as carefull as possible might be to defend them from hurte : and bicause they should receyve no damage by his will, he removed his campe as farre from their confines as he could. Afterwards, he tooke the cittie of Boles by assault, being about an hundred furlonge from Rome, where he had a marvelous great spoyle, and put every man to the sword that was able to carie weapon. The other Volsces that were appointed to remaine in garrison for defence of their countrie, hearing this good newes, would tary no lenger at home, but armed them selves, and ranne to Martius campe, saying they dyd acknowledge no other captaine but him. Hereupon his fame ranne through all Italie, and every one praised him for a valliant captaine, for that by chaunge of one man for another, suche and so straunge events fell out in the state. In this while, all went still to wracke at Rome. For, to come into the field to fight with the enemie, they could not abyde to heare of it, they were one so muche against another, and full of seditious wordes, the nobilitie against the people, and the people against the nobilitie. Untill they had intelligence at the length that the enemies had layed seige to the cittie of Lavinium, in the which were all the temples and images of the goddes their protectours, and from whence came first their auncient originall, for that

Lavinium iEneas at his first arrivall into Italie dyd build that cittie.

^!!ij!7 Then fell there out a marvelous sodain chaunge of minde

among the people, and farre more straunge and contrarie in the nobilitie. For the people thought good to repeale the

i^neas.

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS liii

condemnation and exile of Martius. The Senate assembled upon it, would in no case yeld to that. Who either dyd it of a selfe will to be contrarie to the peoples desire : or bicause Martius should not returne through the grace and favour of the people. Or els, bicause they were thoroughly angrie and offended with him, that he would set apon the whole, being offended but by a fewe, and in his doings would shewe him selfe an open enemie besides unto his countrie : notwithstand- ing the most parte of them tooke the wrong they had done him, in marvelous ill parte, and as if the injurie had bene done unto them selves. Reporte being made of the Senates resolution, the people founde them selves in a straight : for they could authorise and confirme nothing by their voyces, unles it had bene first propounded and ordeined by the Senate. But Martius hearing this sturre about him, was in a greater rage with them then before : in so muche as he raised his seige incontinently before the cittie of Lavinium, and going towardes Rome, lodged his campe within fortie furlonge of the cittie, at the ditches called Cluiliai. His incamping so neere Rome, dyd put all the whole cittie in a wonderfull feare : how- beit for the present time it appeased the sedition and dissen- tion betwixt the Nobilitie and the people. For there was no Consul, Senatour, nor Magistrate, that durst once contrarie the opinion of the people, for the calling home againe of Martius. When they sawe the women in a marvelous feare, ronning up and downe the cittie : the temples of the goddes full of olde people, weeping bitterly in their prayers to the ^

goddes : and finally, not a man either wise or hardie to provide for their safetie : then they were all of opinion, that the people had reason to call home Martius againe, to reconcile them selves to him, and that the Senate on the contrary parte, were in marvelous great faulte to be angrie and in choller with him, when it stoode them upon rather to have gone out and in- treated him. So they all agreed together to send ambassadours TheRomaines unto him, to let him understand how his countrymen dyd call ^end ambassa- him home againe, and restored him to all his goodes, and coriolanus to besought him to deliver them from this warre. The ambas- treate of sadours that were sent, were Martius familiar friendes, and P^^"* acquaintaunce, who looked at the least for a curteous welcome of him, as of their familiar friende and kynseman. Howbeit they founde nothing lesse. For at their comming, they were brought through the campe, to the place where he was set in

liv THE LIFE OF

his chayer of state, with a marvelous and an unspeakable majestie, having the chiefest men of the Volsces about him : so he commaunded them, to declare openly the cause of their comming. Which they delivered in the most humble and lowly wordes they possiblie could devise, and with all modest countenaunce and behaviour agreable for the same. When they had done their message : for the injurie they had done him, he aunswered them very hottely, and in great choller. But as generall of the Volsces, he willed them to restore unto the Volsces, all their landes and citties they had taken from them in former warres : and moreover, that they should geve them the like honour and freedome of Rome, as they had before geven to the Latines. For otherwise they had no other means to ende this warre, if they dyd not graunte these honest and just conditions of peace. Thereupon he gave them thirtie dayes respit to make him aunswer. So the ambas- sadours returned straight to Rome, and Martius forthwith departed with his armie out of the territories of the Romaines. The first oc- This was the first matter wherewith the Volsces (that most casion of the envied Martius glorie and authoritie) dyd charge Martius with. to^Coriolamfs. Among those, Tullus was chief: who though he had receyved no private injurie or displeasure of Martius, yet the common faulte and imperfection of mans nature wrought in him, and it grieved him to see his owne reputation bleamished, through Martius great fame and honour, and so him selfe to be lesse esteemed of the Volsces, then he was before. This fell out the more, bicause every man honoured Martius, and thought he only could doe all, and that all other governours and captaines must be content with suche credit and authoritie, as he would please to countenaunce them with. From hence they derived all their first accusations and secret murmurings against Martius. For private captaines conspiring against him, were very angrie with him : and gave it out, that the removing of the campe was a manifest treason, not of the townes, nor fortes, nor of armes, but of time and occasion, which was a losse of great importaunce, bicause it was that which in treason might both lose and binde all, and preserve the whole. Now Martius having geven the Romaines thirtie dayes respit for their aunswer, and specially bicause the warres have not accustomed to make any great chaunges, in lesse space of time then that : he thought it good yet, not to lye a sleepe idle all the while, but went and destroyed the landes

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS Iv

of the enemies allies, and tooke seven cities of theirs well in- habited, and the Romaines durst not once put them selves into the field, to come to their ayde and helpe : they were so fainte harted, so mistrustfull, and lothe besides to make warres. in so muche as they properly ressembled the bodyes para- lyticke, and losed of their limmes and members : as those which through the palsey have lost all their sence and feeling. Wherefore, the time of peace expired, Martius being returned into the dominions of the Romaines againe with all his armie, they sent another ambassade unto him, to praye peace, and the Another am- remove of the Volsces out of their countrie: that afterwardes J^^^^^^.*^ ^^"*^ they might with better leysure fall to suche agreementes to- gether, as should be thought most mete and necessarie. For the Romaines were no men that would ever yeld for feare. But if he thought the Volsces had any grounde to demaunde reasonable articles and conditions, all that they would reason- ably aske should be graunted unto, by the Romaines, who of them selves would willingly yeld to reason, conditionally, that they dyd laye downe armes. Martius to that aunswered : that as generall of the Volsces he would replie nothing unto it. But yet as a Romaine cittizen, he would counsell them to let fall their pride, and to be conformable to reason, if they were wise : and that they should returne againe within three dayes, delivering up the articles agreed upon, which he had first delivered them. Or otherwise, that he would no more geve them assuraunce or safe conduite to returne againe into his campe, with suche vaine and frivolous messages. When the ambassadours were returned to Rome, and had reported Martius aunswer to the Senate : their cittie being in extreme daunger, and as it were in a terrible storme or tempest, they threw out (as the common proverbe sayeth) their holy ancker. For then they appointed all the bishoppes, priestes, ministers The priestes of the goddes, and keepers of holy things, and all the augures ^"'^/g^g^nt' or soothesayers, which foreshowe things to come by observa- to Corioianus. tion of the flying of birdes (which is an olde auncient kynde of prophecying and divination amongst the Romaines) to goe to Martius apparelled, as when they doe their sacrifices : and first to intreate him to leave of warre, and then that he would speake to his countrymen, and conclude peace with the Volsces. Martius suffered them to come into his campe, but yet he graunted them nothing the more, neither dyd he entertaine them or speake more curteously to them, then he dyd the

Ivi

THE LIFE OF

first time that they came unto him, saving only that he willed them to take the one of the two : either to accept peace under the first conditions offered, or els to recey ve warre. When all this goodly rable of superstition and priestes were returned, ft was determined in counsell that none should goe out of the gates of the cittie, and that they should watche and warde upon the walles, to repulse their enemies if they came to assault them : referring them selves and all their hope to time, and fortunes uncertaine favour, not knowing otherwise howe to remedie the daunger. Now all the cittie was full of tumult, feare, and marvelous doubt what would happen : untill at length there fell out suche a like matter, as Homer oftetimes sayed they would least have thought of. . . .

Now the Romaine Ladies and gentlewomen did visite all the temples and goddes of the same, to make their prayers unto them : but the greatest Ladies (and more parte of them) were continuallie about the aulter of Jupiter Capitolin, emonge which troupe by name, was Valeria, Publicolaes owne sister. The selfe same Publicola, who did suche notable service to the Romaines, both in peace and warres : and was dead also certaine yeares before, as we have declared in his life. His sister Valeria was greatly honoured and reverenced amonge all the Romaines : and did so modestlie and wiselie behave her selfe, that she did not shame nor dishonour the house she came of. So she sodainely fell into such a fansie, as we have rehearsed before, and had (by some god as I thinke) taken holde of a noble devise. Whereuppon she rose, and thother Ladies with her, and they all together went straight to the house of Volumnia, Martius mother : and comming into her, founde her, and Martius wife her daughter in lawe set together, and havinge her husbande Martius young children in her lappe. Now all the traine of these Ladies sittinge in a ringe rounde about her : Valeria first beganne to speake in this sorte unto Thewordesofher : * We Ladies, are come to visite you Ladies (my Ladie Valeria, unto < Volumnia and Vire^ilia) by no direction from the Senate, nor

Volumnia and , ri- i i ii--

Virgiiia. ' commaundement oi other magistrate : but through the mspira-

* tion (as I take it) of some god above. Who havinge taken 'compassion and pitie of our prayers, hath moved us to come ' unto you, to intreate you in a matter, as well beneficiall for

* us, as also for the whole citizens in generall : but to your ' selves in especiall (if it please you to credit me) and shall re-

* dounde to our more fame and glorie, then the daughters of

Valeria

Publicolaes

sister.

Volumnia

Martius

mother.

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS Ivii

'the Sabynes obteined in former age, when they procured Movinge peace, in stead of hatefull warre, betwene their fathers Vand their husbands. Come on good ladies, and let us goe 'all together unto Martius, to intreate him to take pitie upon ' us, and also to reporte the trothe unto him, how muche you

* are bounde unto the citizens : who notwithstandinge they have

* susteined greate hurte and losses by him, yet they have not

* hetherto sought revenge apon your persons by any discurte-

* ous usage, neither ever conceyved any suche thought or intent

* against you, but doe deliver ye safe into his handes, though ' thereby they looke for no better grace or clemency from *him.' When Valeria had spoken this unto them, all thother ladyes together with one voyce confirmed that she had sayed.

Then Volumnia in this sorte did aunswer her : * My good The aunswere

* ladies, we are partakers with you of the common miserie and °J ^d""^"'^

* calamitie of our countrie, and yet our griefe exceedeth yours Romaine

* the more, by reason of our particular misfortune : to feele the^^^^^^-

* losse of my sonne Martius former valiancie and glorie, and to ' see his persone environned nowe with our enemies in armes,

* rather to see him foorth comminge and safe kept, then of any

* love to defende his persone. But yet the greatest griefe of

* our heaped mishappes is to see our poore countrie brought to ' suche extremitie, that all hope of the safetie and preservation

* thereof, is nowe unfortunately cast uppon us simple women : 'bicause we knowe not what accompt he will make of us,

* sence he hath cast from him all care of his naturall countrie *and common weale, which heretofore he hath holden more ' deere and precious, then either his mother, wife, or children.

* Notwithstandinge, if ye thinke we can doe good, we will ' willingly doe what you will have us : bringe us to him I pray

* you. For if we can not prevaile, we maye yet dye at his *feete, as humble sutors for the safetie of our countrie.' Her aunswere ended, she tooke her daughter in lawe, and Martius children with her, and being accompanied with all the other Romaine ladies, they went in troupe together unto the Volsces campe : whome when they sawe, they of them selves did both pitie and reverence her, and there was not a man amonge them that once durst say a worde unto her. Nowe was Martius set then in his chayer of state, with all the honours of a generall, and when he had spied the women comming a farre of, he marveled what the matter ment : but afterwardes knowing his wife which came formest, he determined at the first to persist

Iviii THE LIFE OF

in his obstinate and inflexible rancker. But overcomen in the ende with naturall affection, and being altogether altered to see them : his harte would not serve him to tarie their comming to his chayer, but comming downe in hast, he went to meete them, and first he kissed his mother, and imbraced her a pretie while, then his wife and little children. And nature so wrought with him, that theteares fell from his eyes, and he coulde not keepe him selfe from making much of them, but yeelded to the affection of his bloode, as if he had bene violently caried with the furie of a most swift running streame. After he had thus lovingly received them, and perceivinge that his mother Volumnia would beginne to speake to him, he called the chiefest of the counsell of the Volsces to heare what she would The oration say. Then she spake in this sorte: *Ifwe helde our peace unt^'her'^CIfne ' ^^^ sonne) and determined not to speake, the state of our Coriolanus. ' poore bodies, and present sight of our rayment, would easely ' bewray to thee what life we have led at home, since thy exile

* and abode abroad. But thinke now with thy selfe, howe

* much more unfortunatly, then all the women livinge we are

* come hether, considering that the sight which should be most

* pleasaunt to all other to beholde, spitefull fortune hath made

* most fearefull to us : making my selfe to see my sonne, and ' my daughter here, her husband, besieging the walles of his

* native countrie. So as that which is thonly comforte to all

* other in their adversitie and miserie, to pray unto the goddes,

* and to call to them for aide : is the onely thinge which *plongeth us into most deepe perplexitie. For we can not

* (alas) together pray, both for victorie, for our countrie, and

* for safety of thy life also : but a worlde of grievous curses, 'yea more than any mortall enemie can heape uppon us, are

* forcibly wrapt up in our prayers. For the bitter soppe of

* most harde choyce is offered thy wife and children, to forgoe

* the one of the two : either to lose the persone of thy selfe, or ' the nurse of their native contrie. For my selfe (my sonne)

* I am determined not to tarie, till fortune in my life time doe

* make an ende of this warre. For if I cannot persuade thee, ' rather to doe good unto both parties, then to overthrowe and ' destroye the one, preferring love and nature, before the malice ' and calamitie of warres : thou shalt see, my sonne, and trust

* unto it, thou shalt no soner marche forward to assault thy

* countrie, but thy foote shall treade upon thy mothers wombe,

* that brought thee first into this world. And I maye not de-

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS lix

' ferre to see the daye, either that my sonne be led prisoner in

* triumphe by his naturall country men, or that he him selfe *doe triumphe of them, and of his naturall countrie. For if it ' were so, that my request tended to save thy countrie, in de- ' stroying the Volsces : I must confesse, thou wouldest hardly ' and doubtfully resolve on that. For as to destroye thy

* naturall countrie, it is altogether unmete and unlawfuU : so 'were it not just, and lesse honorable, to betraye those that put 'their trust in thee. But my only demaunde consisteth, to ' make a gayle deliverie of all evills, which delivereth equall ' benefit and safety, both to the one and the other, but most ' honorable for the Volsces. For it shall appeare, that having ' victorie in their handes, they have of speciall favour graunted ' us singular graces : peace, and amitie, albeit them selves have

* no lesse parte of both, then we ; Of which good, if so it came ' to passe, thy selfe is thonly authour, and so hast thou thonly ' honour. But if it faile, and fall out contrarie : thy selfe alone

* deservedly shall carie the shamefull reproche and burden of ' either partie. So, though the ende of warre be uncertaine, ' yet this notwithstanding is most certaine : that if it be thy ' chaunce to conquer, this benefit shalt thou reape of thy goodly ' conquest, to be chronicled the plague and destroyer of thy ' countrie. And if fortune also overthrowe thee, then the world ' will saye, that through desire to revenge thy private injuries, ' thou hast for ever undone thy good friendes, who dyd most Movingly and curteously receyve thee.' Martins gave good eare unto his mothers wordes, without interrupting her speache at all : and after she had sayed what she would, he held his peace a prety while, and aunswered not a worde. Hereupon she beganne againe to speake unto him, and sayed : ' My

* Sonne, why doest thou not aunswer me ? doest thou thinke it

* good altogether to geve place unto thy choller and desire of

* revenge, and thinkest thou it not honestie for thee to graunt ' thy mothers request, in so weighty a cause ? doest thou take ' it honourable for a noble man, to remember the wronges and

* injuries done him : and doest not in like case thinke it an ' honest noble mans parte, to be thankefuU for the goodnes that ' parents doe shewe to their children, acknowledging the duety ' and reverence they ought to beare unto them ? No man

* living is more bounde to shewe him selfe thankefull in all ' partes and respects, then thy selfe : who so unnaturally 'sheweth all ingratitude. Moreover (my sonne) thou hast

Ix THE LIFE OF

' sorely taken of thy countrie, exacting grievous payments apon

* them, in revenge of the injuries offered thee : besides, thou ' has not hitherto shewed thy poore mother any curtesie. And

* therefore, it is not only honest, but due unto me, that without 'compulsion I should obtaine my so just and reasonable re-

* quest of thee. But since by reason I cannot persuade thee

* to it, to what purpose doe I deferre my last hope ? ' And with these wordes, her selfe, his wife and children, fell downe upon their knees before him. Martius seeing that, could re-

Coriolanus fraine no lenger, but went straight and lifte her up, crying compassion of Qut: Oh mother, what have you done to me? And holding

his motlicr

her hard by the right hande, oh mother, sayed he, you have wonne a happy victorie for your countrie, but mortall and unhappy for your sonne : for I see my self vanquished by you alone. These wordes being spoken openly, he spake a little a parte with his mother and wife, and then let them returne againe to Rome, for so they dyd request him : and so remaining in campe that night, the next morning he dislodged, Coriolanus and marched homewardes into the Volsces countrie againe, withdraweth ^v^ho were not all of one minde, nor all alike contented. For from Rome, some misliked him, and that he had done. Other being well pleased that peace should be made, sayed : that neither the one, nor the other, deserved blame nor reproche. Other, though they misliked that was done, dyd not thincke him an ill man for that he dyd, but sayed : he was not to be blamed, though he yelded to suche a forcible extremitie. Howbeit no man contraried his departure, but all obeyed his com- maundement, more for respect of his worthines and valiancie, then for feare of his authoritie. Now the cittizens of Rome plainely shewed, in what feare and daunger their cittie stoode of this warre, when they were delivered. For so sone as the watche upon the walles of the cittie perceyved the Volsces campe to remove, there was not a temple in the cittie but was presently set open, and full of men, wearing garlands of flowers upon their heads, sacrificing to the goddes, as they were wont to doe upon the newes of some great obteined victorie. And this common joye was yet more manifestly shewed, by the honorable curtesies the whole Senate, and people dyd bestowe on their ladyes. For they were all thoroughly persuaded, and dyd certenly beleeve, that the ladyes only were cause of the saving of the cittie, and de- livering them selves from the instant daunger of the warre.

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS Ixi

Whereupon the Senate ordeined, that the magistrates to gratifie and honour these ladyes, should graunte them all that they would require. And they only requested that they I

would build a temple of Fortune of the women, for the The temple of building whereof they offered them selves to defraye the J'^ortune built whole charge of the sacrifices, and other ceremonies belonging women. to the service of the goddes. Nevertheles, the Senate com- mending their good will and forwardnes, ordeined, that the temple and image should be made at the common charge of the cittie. Notwithstanding that, the ladyes gathered money emong them, and made with the same a second image ofThe image of Fortune, which the Romaines saye dyd speake as they offred ^°^J^"^ ^P^^^ her up in the temple, and dyd set her in her place : and they a° Rome.^^' \

affirme, that she spake these wordes : Ladyes, ye have de- voutely offered me up. Moreover, that she spake that twise together, making us to beleeve things that never were, and are not to be credited. . . . Now when Martius was returned againe into the cittie of Antium from his voyage, Tullus that hated and could no lenger abide him for the feare he had of his authoritie : sought divers meanes to make him out of the Tullus Aufi- waye, thinking that if he let slippe that present time, he ^^"^.^^^^^^^ should never recover the like and fit occasion againe. Where- Coriolanus. fore Tullus having procured many other of his confederacy, required Martius might be deposed from his estate, to render up accompt to the Volsces of his charge and government. Martius fearing to become a private man againe under Tullus being generall (whose authoritie was greater otherwise, then any other emong all the Volsces) aunswered : he was willing to geve up his charge, and would resigne it into the handes of the lordes of the Volsces, if they dyd all commaund him, as by all their commaundement he receyved it. And moreover, that he would not refuse even at that present to geve up an accompt unto the people, if they would tarie the hearing of it. The people hereupon called a common counsaill, in which assembly there were certen oratours appointed, that stirred up the common people against him : and when they had tolde their tales, Martius rose up to make them aunswer. Now, notwithstanding the mutinous people made a marvelous great noyse, yet when they sawe him, for the reverence they bare unto his valliantnes, they quieted them selves, and gave still audience to alledge with leysure what he could for his purgation. Moreover, the honestest men of the Antiates, and

Ixii

THE LIFE OF

W

Coriolanus murdered in the cittie of Antium.

Coriolanus funeralles.

The time of mourning ap- pointed by Numa.

Tullus Aufi- dius slaine in battell.

who most rejoyced in peace, shewed by their countenaunce that they would heare him willingly, and judge also according to their conscience. Whereupon Tullus fearing that if he dyd let him speake, he would prove his innocencie to the people, bicause emongest other things he had an eloquent tongue, besides that the first good service he had done to the people of the Volsces, dyd winne him more favour, then these last accusations could purchase him displeasure : and furthermore, the offence they layed to his charge, was a testimonie of the good will they ought him, for they would never have thought he had done them wrong for that they tooke not the cittie of Rome, if they had not bene very neere taking of it, by meanes of his approche and conduction. For these causes Tullus thought he might no lenger delaye his pretence and enterprise, neither to tarie for the mutining and rising of the common people against him : wherefore, those that were of the conspiracie, beganne to crie out that he was not to be heard, nor that they would not suffer a traytour to usurpe tyrannicall power over the tribe of the Volsces, who would not yeld up his estate and authoritie. And in saying these wordes, they all fell upon him, and killed him in the market place, none of the people once offering to rescue him. How- beit it is a clere case, that this murder was not generally con- sented unto, of the most parte of the Volsces : for men came out of all partes to honour his bodie, and dyd honorably burie him, setting out his tombe with great store of armour and spoyles, as the tombe of a worthie persone and great captaine. The Romaines understanding of his death, shewed no other honour or malice, saving that they graunted the ladyes the request they made : that they might mourne tenne moneths for him, and that was the full time they used to weare blackes for the death of their fathers, brethern, or husbands, according to Numa Pompilius order, who stablished the same, as we have enlarged more amplie in the description of his life. Now Martins being dead, the whole state of the Volsces hartely wished him alive againe. For first of all they fell out with the -^ques (who were their friendes and confederates) touching preheminence and place: and this quarrell grewe on so farre betwene them, and frayes and murders fell out apon it one with another. After that, the Romaines overcame them in battell, in which Tullus was slaine in the field, and the flower of all their force was put to the sworde : so that they were

CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS Ixiii

compelled to accept most shamefull conditions of peace, in yelding them selves subject unto the conquerers, and promising to be obedient at their commandement.

EXTRACT FROM CAMDEN'S ' REMAINES OF A GREATER WORKE, CONCERNING BRITAINE,' ETC., 1605. GRAVE SPEECHES, AND WITTIE APOTHEGMES OF WOORTHIE PERSONAGES OF THIS REALME IN FORMER TIMES, pp. 198, 199.

Pope Adrian the fourth an English man borne, of the familie of Breakespeare in Middlesex^ a man commended for converting Norway to Christianity, before his Papacie, but noted in his Papacie, for vsing the Emperour Fredericke the second as his Page, in holding his stirroppe, demaunded oi John of Sarisbury his countryman what opinion the world had of the Church of Rome, and ot him, who answered : The Church of Rome which should be a mother, is now a stepmother, wherein sit both Scribes and Pharises ; and as for your selfe, whenas you are a father, why doe you expect pensions from your children ? etc. Adrian smiled, and after some excuses tolde him this tale, which albeit it may seeme long, and is not vnlike that of Menenius Agrippa in Livie, yet give it the reading, and happly you may learne somwhat by it. All the members of the body conspired against the stomacke, as against the swallowing gulfe of all their labors ; for whereas the eies beheld, the eares heard, the handes labored, the feete traveled, the tongue spake, and all partes performed their functions, onely the stomacke lay ydle and consumed all. Hereuppon they ioyntly agreed al to forbeare their labors, and to pine away their lasie and publike enemy. One day passed over, the second followed very tedious, but the third day was so grievous to them all, that they called a common Counsel ; The eyes waxed dimme, the feete could not support the body, the armes waxed lasie, the tongue faltered, and could not lay open the matter ; Therefore they all with one accord desired the advise of the Heart. There Reason layd open before them, that hee against whome they had proclaimed warres, was the cause of all this their misery : For he as their common steward, when his allowances were withdrawne, of necessitie withdrew theirs fro them, as not receiving that he might allow. Therefore

Ixiv THE LIFE OF CORIOLANUS

it were a farre better course to supply him, than that the limbs should faint with hunger. So by the perswasion of Reason, the stomacke was served, tlie limbes comforted, and peace re-established. Even so it fareth with the bodies of Common-weales ; for albeit the Princes gather much, yet not so much for themselves, as for others : So that if they want, they cannot supply the want of others ; therefore do not repine at Princes heerein, but respect the common good of the whole publike estate. [Idem}

M.e. Polycraticon.

CORIOLANUS

DRAMATIS PERSON 2E^

Caius Marcius, afterwards Caius Marcius Coriola?tus. roMiNius ' ( ^^^^^^^^ against the Volscians.

Menenius Agkipva, friend to Coriolanus.

SiCINIUS VeLUTUS \ ^ .y r^T. J. ^j

Junius Brutus | '^^^^^^^ of the people. Young Marcius, son to Coriolanus. A Roman Herald.

TuLLUS AuFiDius, general of the Volscians. Lieutenant to Aufidius. Conspirators with Aufidius.

NicANOR, a Roman in the service of the Volscians. Adrian, a Volscian. A citizen of Aniium. Two Volscian Guards. VoLUMNiA, mother to Coriolanus. ViRGiLiA, wife to Coriolanus. Valeria, friend to Virgilia. Gentlewoman attending on Virgilia.

Roman and Volscian Senators^ Patricians^ y^diles, Lictors^ Soldiers^ Citizens^ Messengers^ Servants to Aufidius, and other Attendants.

Scene : Rome and the neighbourhood ; Corioles and thz neighbourhood ; Antium.

^ Not in Ff. First given by Rowe, imperfectly.

CORIOLANUS

ACT I

SCENE I.— Rome. A Street,

Enter a company of mutinous Citizens, with staves, clubs, and other weapons.

First Cit. Before we proceed any further, hear me speak.

All. Speak, speak.

First Cit. You are all resolved rather to die than to

famish ? All. Resolved, resolved. First Cit. First, you know Caius Marcius is chief enemy

to the people. AIL We know 't, we know 't. First Cit. Let us kill him, and we '11 have corn at our own

price. Is 't a verdict ? All. No more talking on 't ; let it be done. Away,

away! Second Cit. One word, good citizens.

10

Scene i. Act I. Scene /.] Scenes (save Act v. scenes v. and vi.) as in Capell ; acts marked, but no scenes save here, in Ff, scenes first by Rowe ; Pope made new scenes to introduce each new character. Rome. A Street.'] A street in Rome. Pope ;

omitted Ff.

9-10. Let us . . . price] Here Shake- speare departs from the account in North's Plutarch, in which the question of the corn does not arise, nor are there any corn riots, till after the war with the Voices. See Extracts, ante, p. xxxvi et seq.

10. Is H a verdict ?] Are we unani- mous on the point ? Verity notes this

instance of Shakespeare's " partiality for legal figures."

II. on H] of it, about it. This con- fusion between on and of is very common. See Cymheline, iv. ii. 198 : •' The bird is dead That we have made so much on" and also the Chronicle of Edward Halle, 1542, ed. 1809, p. 439 : " John Lilie fell sick on the gowt."

4

CORIOLANUS

[act I.

First Cit. We are accounted poor citizens, the patricians, good. What authority surfeits on would relieve us. If they would yield us but the superfluity, while it were wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely ; but they think we are too dear : the leanness that afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an inventory to particularize their abundance ; our sufferance is a gain to them. Let us revenge this with our pikes, ere we become rakes : for the gods know I speak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge.

15

20

15. on\ F 3 ; one F.

15. good\ The commercial sense, wealthy,is quibbled with. Compare The Merchant of Venice^ i. iii. 12-17 : — *' Shy. Antonio is a good man. Bass. Have you heard any im- putation to the contrary ? Shy. Ho, no, no, no, no : my meaning in saying he is a good man is to have you understand me that he is sufficient." See also The Woman''s Prize, 1647, I. i. ; Weber's Beaumont and Fletcher, V. 260 : —

" Moroso. I hold him a good man.

Sophocles. Yes, sure, a wealthy." authority] Those in authority, the ruling classes. Compare Measure for Measure, i. ii. 124-125 : —

*' Thus can the demi-god Authority Make us pay down for our offence

by weight The word of heaven."

17. guess} think. Schmidt gives two other instances of guess in this sense from 1 Henry VI. 11. i. 29, and Henry VIII. II. i. 47. The New Eng. Diet. gives several early English (no Eliza- bethan) examples : it quotes a 1400 Prymer (Early Eng, Text Soc), 64 : " Gessist thou not {Vulg. putasne) that a deed man shall live agen ? "

18. they think . . . dear] Johnson explains : '• they think that the charge of maintaining us is more than we are worth." Others, however, explain " too precious," referring to what follows.

19. the object] the spectacle. Shake- speare uses object in this sense in Troilus and Cressida, 11. ii. 41 : "And reason flies the object of all harm." The New Eng. Diet, gives

an instance from Chapman, Batra- chomyomachia (1616), 15 : —

" He advancing . . . past all the rest arose In glorious object.^*

19-20. is . . . abundance] serves as a catalogue of wants emphasising their own plenty. Particularize is only found here in Shakespeare.

21. sufferajice] suffering, misery, as often in Shakespeare. Compare jfulins CcEsar, II. i. 115 : '* The sufferance of our souls." See also Thomas Lodge, Complaint of Elstred, Hunterian Club ed., p. 77 : *' I faynting fell, enfeebled through my sufferance.'*

21-22. Let us . . . rakes] Pike was in early use in the sense of pitch-fork, which suggests the comparison in the text. Among other references. New Eng. Diet, quotes Tusser, Five Hun- dreth Points of Good Husbandry, 1573, ed. 1878, p. 37 [1812, chap. xvi. p. 14, September] : —

'• A rake for to hale up the fitchis that lie, A pike for to pike them up hand- some to drie." The proverbial expression used in Chaucer 's Prologue, line 287 : " As lene was his hors as is a rake," is common : see Skelton, The Boke of Phyllyp Sparowe [ed. Dyce, i. 79], cited by New Eng. Diet. : " Odyous Enui . . . His bones crake leane as a rake," and Spenser, The Faerie Queene, II. xi. 22 : " His body leane and meagre as a rake." In Stanyhurst's translation of Virgil, 1582 [ed. Arber, p. 89], Sinon is called "A meigre leane rake."

sc. I] CORIOLANUS 5

Second Cit. Would you proceed especially against Caius 25 Marcius?

^//.Against him first: he's a very dog to the com- monalty.

Second Cit. Consider you what services he has done for

his country ? 30

First Cit, Very well ; and could be content to give him good report for 't, but that he pays himself with being proud.

Second Cit. Nay, but speak not maliciously.

First Cit. I say unto you, what he hath done famously, 3 5 he did it to that end : though soft-conscienced men can be content to say it was for his country, he did it to please his mother, and to be partly proud ; which he is, even to the altitude of his virtue.

Second Cit. What he cannot help in his nature, you 40 account a vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous.

First Cit. If I must not, I need not be barren of accusa- tions : he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repeti- tion. \_Skouts within. 45 What shouts are these ? The other side o' the city is risen : why stay we prating here ? to the Capitol ! 34. Second Cit.] Malone ; All. Ff. 46. 0' the'} 0' th' F 4 ; a '^ F ; a Hh' F 3.

27. ^Z/] Malone thought these words as only once again in Shakespeare,

should be put into the mouth of First Henry VIII, i. ii. 170: '*To gain

Citizen, and Hudson so reads. the love o' the commonalty.^'' It is

a very dog to, etc.] The dog is in North's Plutarch ; see the Extracts,

sometimes mentioned with indifference, ante, p. xxxi, etc. Also see Nash, Pierce

and generally as the incarnation of bad Penilesse, 1592, .ed. McKerrow, i. 222

qualities in Shakespeare's plays. In (last line) : " the brutish Comminaltie.'^

King Lear, iii. iv. 96, the character- 34. Nay, but, etc.] Malone again

istic of the dog is madness : " hog in would place these words in the First

sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, Citizen's mouth.

dog in madness," the sense of madness 37-38. he . . . proud] he did it

here being probably rabies, wild fury, partly to please his mother, and partly

See also 2 Henry IV. iv. v. 131- for the sake of his pride. It is un-

133 : — necessary to change the text, as various

'* For the fifth Harry from curb'd editors have done.

license plucks 39. to the altitude] Steevens quotes

The muzzle of restraint, and the Henry VIII. i. ii. 214 : " He's traitor

wild dog to the height." The speaker, of course,

Shall ilesh his tooth in every inno- means to say : " brave man as he is,

cent " ; he is quite as proud as he is brave."

and, among other writers, Halle, 46. The . . . city] Probably Shakes-

Chronicle, 1542, ed. 1809, p. 21 : " The peare had in his mind, the fact that the

Gascons now abhorring the English people went out, as Plutarch told him,

people more than a dog or an Adder." to " the Holy Hill " (Mons Sacer) where

27. commonalty] the common people: the tribunes were granted them.

6

CORIOLANUS

[act I.

All. Come, come. /

First Cit. Soft ! who comes here?.

.Wi

A.iV

£«^^j^'MENENIUS Agrippa.

Second Cit. Worthy Menenius Agrippa ; one that hath 50 always loved the people.

First Cit. He 's one honest enough : would all the rest were so !

Men. What work 's, my countrymen, in hand ? where go you With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray you. 55

First Cit. Our business is not unknown to the senate ; they have had inkling this fortnight what we in- tend to do, which now we '11 show 'em in deeds.

54> 55' Who,i . • • pT^ciy you.} As Theobald ; three Unas ending . . . hand ? . . . matter . . . you in Ff. 56. First Cit.'] 1 Cit. Capell (and throughout

the scene) ; H Cit. Ff.

49. Soft !] A common expression used to restrain, delay, or give pause : see The Tempest, i. ii. 449 : " Soft sir : one word more," and Mother Bombie, 1598, Fairholt's Lyly, 11. 145, "Nay, soft, take us with you." Sometimes we find " soft, soft" {Twelfth Night, i. v. 312), sometimes " Soft you " {Hamlet, III. i. 88). See also Nash, Have with you to Saffron Walden, 1596, ed. McKerrow, iii. 118, line 29, "But soft you now how is this, or any part of this to be proved ? "

55. hats and clubs'] As again i. i. 160 post. Boswell-Stone (Shakespeare's Holinshed, i8g6, p. 221), writes {re Henry VI. Part I.), quoting Fabyan's Chronicles, 15 16, p. 596 : '♦ Fabyan says (596) that the Parliament which witnessed the reconciliation of Glou- cester and Winchester 'wasclepyd of the Comon people the Parlyammt of Battes : the cause was, for Proclama- cyons were made, that men shulde leue theyr Swerdes and other wepeyns in theyr Innys, the people toke great battes and stauys in theyr neckes, and so folowed theyr lord« and maisters vnto the Parlyament.' " Bat = a stout staff: compare A Lover's Complaint, 64, " So slides he down upon his grained bat.'*^ We read in Wyclif's Bible, Mathew, xxvi. 47, "a great cumpanye with swerdis and battes'' ("swords

and staves " in the Authorized version). Shakespeare has frequent references to clubs, the weapon of prentices and other citizens. See 1 Henry VI. 1. iii. 84, in this series, and the note there. The matter] Often used for " What's the matter ? " (which occurs in II. i. 255 post. For the present expres- sion, see III. i. 27 post, and Antony and Cleopatra, 11. vii. 63 : "I think thour't mad. The matter? "

56. First Cit.] Capell's correction, adopted here and in the following speeches, is thus advocated by Malone : " This and all the subsequent plebeian speeches in this scene are given in the old copy to the second Citizen. But the dialogue at the opening of the play shows that it must have been a mistake, and that they ought to be attributed to \.\\e first Citizen. The second is rather friendly to Coriolanus."

57. inkling] hint, slight intimation. Only once again in Shakespeare, Henry VIII. 11. i. 140 : —

" I can give you inkling Of an ensuing evil." See North's Plutarch, 1579, ed. 1595, p. 468 : " But the keeper of the house, having an inckling of their coming," Lyly, Euphues and his England, 1580 (ed. Arber, p. 420) : " though loth that Camilla should conce[i]ue any inck- ling:'

sc. I] CORIOLANUS 7

They say poor suitors have strong breaths : they shall know we have strong arms too. 60

Men. Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neigh- bours. Will you undo yourselves ?

First Cit. We cannot, sir ; we are undone already.

Men. I tell you, friends, most charitable care

Have the patricians of you. For your wants, 65

Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well

Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them

Against the Roman state, whose course will on

The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs

Of more strong link asunder than can ever 70

Appear in your impediment. For the dearth,

The gods, not the patricians, make it, and

Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack !

You are transported by calamity

Thither where more attends you ; and you slander 75

The helms o' the state, who care for you like fathers,

When you curse them as enemies.

61, 62. Why . . . yourselves ?} As Theobald ; Ff divide after honest. 65. you. For . . . wants,'] Johnson ; you : for . . . wants^ Rowe ; you for . . . wants. F ; you for . . . wants, F 3.

59-60. They say . . . too] A quibble. It occurs in North's Plutarch, see Ex- Strong is defined by Johnson (Diet.), tracts, ante, p. xxxvii. in this connection as " affecting the gg^ will on]Com^2iX^ Jiilius Ccesar, smell powerfully and he quotes j^^ j^ ^ . .. Or shall we ow, and not Hwrf^ims. [Part II. panto 1 753-755]:- depend on you," and see Abbott,

The prince of Cambay's daily food ^j^^j^^^^ q^^„^ g

Is asp, and basilisk, and toad,

Which makes him have so strong 7^- '» your impediment] in any

a breath " etc hindrance you are likely to make :

Compare iv. vi. 99 post, " The breath Malone quotes Othello, v. ii. 263 :—

of garlic-eaters," 11. i. 232, " beg their " I have made my way through more

stinking breaths," in. iii. 120, " whose impediments

breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens," Than twenty times your stop."

and see also Measure for Measure, in. y-. Thither . . . you] To open

ii. 187-189 (in this edition) : "he would mutiny, which will but increase your

mouth with a beggar, though she troubles,

smelt brown bread and garlic," and ^,,-,11 -i -

Mr. Hart's note there. 76. helms] helmsmen, pilots: com-

C>6. dearth] famine; its primary P^^^ Measure for Measure, in. n.

meaning is dearness, scarcity of corn. 145-1.47, ^ this edition : " the business

It is ofTen used by Shakespeare : see ^^ i''': ^he Duke) hath helmed mus

;if-,:r4-i^~^-^ an. Cleopatra, ^ .^. ^gjye^hun^a^beU^

'* they know like fathers] " Patres, i.e.

By the height, the lowness, or the * fathers,' was the title of the Senators

mean, if dearth of ancient Rome ; hence patriciati =* of

Or foizon follow." noble birth ' " (Verity).

8

CORIOLANUS

[act I.

First Cit. Care for us ! True, indeed ! They ne'er cared for us yet : suffer us to famish, and their storehouses crammed with grain ; make edicts for usury, to sup- 80 port usurers ; repeal daily any wholesome act established against the rich, and provide more piercing statutes daily, to chain up and restrain the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will ; and there's all the love they bear us. 85

Men. Either you must

Confess yourselves wondrous malicious,

Or be accus'd of folly. I shall tell you

A pretty tale : it may be you have heard it ;

But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture 90

To scale 't a little more.

78. indeed ! They] indeed ! — they Theobald ; indeed, they Ff. Ff, stale H Theobald.

01. scale 7]

78. True indeed /] Ironical. " O yes, very likely."

79-80. suffer . . . grain"] Shakespeare had read in North's Plutarch (see Extracts, ante, p. xl) : *' In the meane season there came great plenty of corn to Rome that had been bought, part in Italie, and part was sent out of Sicilie, as geven by Gelon the tyranne of Syracusa."

80, 81. make . . . usurers] An allu- sion to the subject of the quarrel between the Patricians and Plebeians stated in North's Plutarch: see Ex- tracts, p. XXX ante,

82-83. more piercing statutes] Com- pare " biting laws," Measure for Mea- sure, I. iii. 19.

89. pretty] Perhaps = apt, pat, to the purpose. Shakespeare often uses pretty in the sense of " suitable " : compare Romeo and jfuliet, 1. iii. 10, " a pretty age," i.e. one suitable for marriage ; Troilus and Cressida, i. ii. i6g, " his pretty answer." See also Burton, Anatomy of Melancholy, 1621, Part I, Sec. 2, Mem. 4, Subsec. 4 : " Martin Cromerus, in the sixth book of his history, hath a pretty story to this purpose ; " and then follows a rather horrible tale.

gi. To scale H . . . more] scale *t is retained here solely in deference to Mr. Craig's intention, as strongly expressed in the following note, after which will

be found a brief statement of my own objections to it. — R. H. C. I retain the folio reading scale H. Theobald, reading stale H, writes of scale H as follows : " Thus all the editions (i.e* the Ff, Rowe, and Pope), but without any manner of sense that I can make out. The Poet must have wrote, as I have corrected the text." Now this, no doubt, makes very excellent sense, and Shakespeare uses the verb stdle in several passages with this identical meaning. Besides, as has been noted, Massinger writes {The Unnatural Com- bat, IV. ii.) : " I'll not stale the jest By my relation." All editors followed Theobald's lead, till the time of George Steevens, who has (see Malone's Shakes., 1790, vol. vii. p. 148), what is, to my mind, a very convincing note in favour of scale. He writes : *' To scale is to disperse. The word is still used in the North. The sense is, ' Though some of you have heard the story, I will spread it wider, and diffuse it among the rest.* " Gifford writes : " I cannot avoid look- ing upon the whole of his [Steeven's] long note, as a feeble attempt to justify a palpable error of the press, at the cost of taste and sense," and nearly all modern editors have continued to read stalest with Theobald. Hudson says : " The forced attempts made to justify scale are, I think, a full condemnation of it." The present editor, in The Ox-

sc.

CORIOLANUS

9

First Cit. Well, I '11 hear it, sir ; yet you must not think to fob off our disgrace with a tale ; but, and 't please you, deliver.

Men. There was a time when all the body's members Rebell'd against the belly ; thus accus'd it :

95

92-94. Prose Capell deliver, in Ff.

four lines ending Well,

thinke

tale

ford Shakespeare, 1891, retained the Ff reading, and nothing would induce him to follow Theobald : for though he ad- mits it is not impossible that Shake- speare may have written stalest, it is bad editing to strike out what already makes excellent sense, and to *' re- write Shakespeare." Now with regard to the verb scale, first let us remember that Shakespeare often uses words in a somewhat licentious sense, bending them without scruple to one that pleases him. It is not impossible that the idea in his mind may have been, to ventilate, air, disperse, with a sort of play on the sense " weigh in scales," a sense which the word bears in 11. iii. 247 post. This sort of thing he has done often : see A Midsmnmer Night's Dream, i. i. 131, where it is most likely that he uses beteem in the double sense of "pour out" and "allow," "per- mit " ; and Lear, iii. vii. 61, where "stelled" appears to be used in the double senses of " fixed " or " set," and •'starry." Steevens gives several ex- amples of scale in the sense of " dis- perse": e.g. Holinshed, Chronicle, vol. ii. p. 499 : " they " (the Welsh- men) " would no longer abide, but scaled and departed away " ; The Hystorie of Clyomon, Knight of the Golden Shield, etc., 1599 (see Peele's Works, Bullen, 11. 164) : —

" Clyo. Ah sirrah, now the hugy

heaps of cares that lodged in

my mind Are scaled from their nestling

place, and pleasures passage

find." — Craig. Mr. Craig pleads for, and acts on, a good principle; but I feel bound to point out that the words "some of" which Steevens slips into his interpre- tation to give it probability have no warrant from Shakespeare : (" Though some of you have heard," etc.). Men- enius speaks to all the citizens present :

" Either you must confess yourselves ... I shall tell you a pretty tale ; it may be you have heard it " : and as- sumes his story to be possibly known to all. Hence to enable him to scale or diffuse it, we should have to assume that in saying : " it may be you have heard it," he suddenly and pointedly addresses the First Citizen only : we cannot turn you into some of you to please Steevens.

93. fob off . . . tale] to cajole us, to put our wrongs out of our heads by telling us a story. Compare fub off, another form of this word : see 2 Henry IV. II. i. 36-38, " I have borne, and borne, and borne, and have bin fub' d off, and fub^d off from this day to that day " (here it means put off, deluded by empty words) ; and also compsiTe fobbed in the sense of cheated, deluded, in 1 Henry IV. i. ii. 68. For fob off see The Chances, iii. iv. (Beaumont and Fletcher, 1679 folio, p. 420) :—

" Never fool Was so fobb'd off as I am ; " also (in ioxmfop off) The London Prodi- gal, 1605, I. i. : " Sblood, what, doth hee thinke to fop o/his posteritie with paradoxes ? "

disgrace] " Disgraces are hard- ships, or injuries " (Johnson).

and H] the spelling of the folios, for which Hanmer and other editors have substituted an H. See Antony and Cleopatra, 11. vii. 98, in this edition, and note there.

94. deliver] out with it ; compare Richard II. iii. iii. 33, 34 : —

" Send the breath of parley Into his ruin'd ears, and thus de- liver : " The sense " to relate " is very frequent in Shakespeare.

95. 96. There . . . belly ;] See In- troduction, p. X, and Extracts, ante, pp. xxxi and Ixiii.

10

CORIOLANUS

[act

That only like a gulf it did remain r the midst o' the body, idle and unactive, Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing Like labour with the rest, where the other instru- ments Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, And, mutually participate, did minister Unto the appetite and affection common Of the whole body. The belly answer'd, —

First Cit. Well, sir, what answer made the belly?

Men. Sir, I shall tell you. With a kind of smile,

Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus, —

100

105

98. o' th€\ o' ^A' F4 ; a th' F ; so in other places, comma Ff.

102. Atid^l Malone ; no

97. gulf] whirlpool, old French Golfe : see Cotgrave, French Diet., 1611, " Go//<? ; a Gulfe, whirle poole, or bottomlesse pit." See also Richard III. HI. vii. 128, Henry V. 11. iv.

10, Hamlet, iii. iii. 16, and Fenton's Bandello, 1567, Discourse VII. (Tudor Translations, 11. 24) : '* resemblynge a bottomles goolphe, receyvinge all that is putt into it, without castynge anye thinge upp againe"; also Chapman, Homer's Odysseys, Bk. IX, line 412 : " Because the ^«//his (the Cyclop's) belly reacht his throat." The word is evidence that Shakespeare knew the version of the Belly and Members fable in Camden's Remaines, 1605, p. 199 : " All the members of the body conspired against the stomacke, as against the swallowing gulfe of all their labours," etc.

98. unactivel The only instance of this word (there is none of its modern equivalent inactive) in Shakespeare. Compare Milton, Paradise Regained,

11. 80-81 : " his life, Private, unactive, calm, contemplative."

99. cupboarding] (spelt cubbording in F), stowing away, as in a cupboard. The New Eng. Diet, gives an earlier instance of this verb: Darius, 1565 (i860), 53 :-

" He . . . With the woman also coberdith his lyfe He regardeth neither father nor mother, and al for his wife." viand] food, elsewhere plural in Shakespeare).

100. where] whereas : see i. x. 13 post ; frequent in Shakespeare. Com- pare i^fw^ L^ar, I. ii. 89; The Merchant of Venice, iv. i. 22 ; and for examples in other writers, see notes in the editions of these plays in this series.

loi. Did see . , . feel] Referring to the work done by the eye, the ear, the brain, the tongue, the legs, the nerves respectively.

102. mutually participate] Malone explains participate here, as " partici- pant " or "participating." Compare reverberate for reverberating. Twelfth Night, I. V. 291 ; and see New Eng. Diet, under sense "made to share," with reference to the preceding partici- pant, as equivalent.

103. affection] desire. See line 176 post {affections).

106, 107. With . . . lungs] With a disdainful, haughty smile as opposed to a hearty laugh. Compare As You Like It, II. vi. 30 : —

" My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, . . . And I did laugh sans intermission, An hour by his dial " ; Phineas Fletcher, The Purple Island, 1633, canto iv. stanza 13, says of " the Diazome or Diaphragma, which we call the midriffe" : —

" Here sportful Laughter dwells, here ever sitting Defies all lumpish griefs, and wrinkled Care."

SC. I.]

CORIOLANUS

11

For, look you, I may make the belly smile

As well as speak — it tauntingly replied

To the discontented members, the mutinous parts no

That envied his receipt ; even so most fitly.

As you malign our senators for that

They are not such as you. First Cit. Your belly's answer ? What !

The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye,

The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier, 115

Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter.

With other muniments and petty helps

In this our fabric, if that they — Meji. What then ?

'Fore me, this fellow speaks ! What then ? what then? First Cit. Should by the cormorant belly be restrained, 120

Who is the sink o' the body, —

109. tauntingly'] F 4; tantingly F 2; taintingly F. T14. kingly-crowned]

Warburton ; Kingly crowned Ff. 118, 119. As Capell ; three lines ending

they — . . . specifies . . . then ? in Ff. 121. 0' the} 0' th' F 4 ; a th^ F.

108. I may . . . smile} Malone quotes North's Plutarch, "And so the belly, all this notwithstanding, laughed at their folly and sayed," etc.

111. his receipt] his prerogative of receiving, or else, what he received, which agrees with a frequent sense: Compare Richard II. i. i. 126 : ** Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais." Mr. Deighton quotes Lucrece, 703 : " Drunken desire must vomit his li.e. its] receipt.''^

112. /or ^/ta^] because, on the ground that. See The Merchant of Venice, i. iii. 44 :—

♦' I hate him for he is a Christian, But more for that in low sim- plicity He lends out money gratis," etc.

114. kingly-crowned] The expression '• a kingly crown " is in Julius CcBsar, III. ii. loi : " I thrice presented him a kingly crown " ; also in Milton, Para- dise Lost, II. 673 : *' The likeness of a kingly crown."

115. The counsellor heart] Malone notes that " the heart was considered by Shakespeare as the seat of the understanding." See, e.g. Sonnet cxiii : —

" For it [my eye] no form delivers to the heart

Of bird, of flower, or shape, which it doth latch " ; and Much Ado about Nothing, in. ii. 14: "for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks." Compare the passage from Camden in the note on line 135 post.

117. muniments] The New Eng. Diet, quotes this passage under the sense: "Things with which a person or place is provided: furnishings," and also cites among other references, Spenser, The Faerie Queene, iv. viii. 6 : '* By chance he certain muniments forthdrew. Which yet with him as re- lickes did abide." The frequent sense "defences," " supports " would not be inappropriate here.

119. ^Fore me] (Fore me F). Ex- plained as " by my soul," perhaps a euphemism for " Before God." Dyce explains, " God before me," " in the presenceof God." Com^diXtAirsWell that Ends Well, it. iii. 31 : " fore me, speak in respect — " ; and Middleton and Rowley, A Fair Quarrell, 1617, i. i. 42 (ed. Bullen, iv. 181) : " fore me, and thou look'st half-ill indeed." We have also afore me, as in Romeo and yuliet, in. iv, 34, and before me several times : see Twelfth Night, u. iii. 194 : " Before me, she 's a good wench."

12

COUIOLANUS

[act I.

Men. Well, what then ?

First Cit. The former agents, if they did complain, What could the belly answer ?

Men. I will tell you ;

If you '11 bestow a small — of what you have little — Patience awhile, you'st hear the belly's answer. 125

First Cit. Y 'are long about it.

Men. Note me this, good friend ;

Your most grave belly was deliberate, Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer' d : " True is it, my incorporate friends," quoth he, " That I receive the general food at first, 1 30

Which you do live upon ; and fit it is. Because I am the store-house and the shop Of the whole body : but, if you do remember, I send it through the rivers of your blood, Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o' the brain ; 135 And, through the cranks and offices of man,

125. you 's^] F ; you HI Rowe (ed. 2). 128. answer''d] Rowe ; answered F.

125. you ^st] A provincial corruption or contraction of you shalt, apparently. Schmidt gives it among his examples of shall corrupted to '5 ; Romeo and Juliet, I. iii. 9 : '* nurse, come back again : I have remember'd me, thou '5 hear our counsell " ; King Lear, iv. vi. 246: " ise try whether your costard or

my

hallow be the harder

etc.

Wright refers to Webster and Marston's The Malcontent for examples, e.g. v. 3. (Marston, ed. Halliwell, 11. p. 287) : ** nay, if youle dooes no good, Youst dooes no harme."

126. me] Dativns ethicus : see Abbott, Shakes. Gram., § 220.

127. Your] Your in line 113 from the First Cit. to Menenius, who was the belly's advocate, might be so used to- day, but the case is different here and comes under the colloquial use oi your, "to appropriate an object to a person addressed " ; see Abbott, Shakes. Gram. § 221.

grave] a term of respect implying seriousness and importance ; compare Othello, I. iii. 76 : " Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors," and Chapman, Homer's Odysseys, viii. 22-26 : — " Pallas . . . Enlarged him with a height, and goodliness

In breast and shoulders, that he

might appear Gracious, and grave, and re- verend." 129. incorporate] belonging to one and the same body ; compare Venus and Adonis, 540: *' Incorporate then they seem."

135. Even . . . irain;] Malone says brain •' is here used for reason or under- standing" and that ^^ the seat of the brain is put in apposition with the heart, and is descriptive of it." He quotes the story of the Belly and the Members as it appears in Camden's Remaines, 1605, "p. 109," really p. 199, which Shakespeare probably had before him (see on gulf, line 97 ante) : "... Therefore they all with one accord desired the advise of the Heart. There Reason laid open before them," etc. The confusion between two different bodily organs, and awkward- ness of understanding one literally and the other figuratively, disposes one to reject this view, but it certainly re- ceives some support from the use of the two words court and seat, both equivalent to " royal residence."

136. cranks] winding passages ; re- ferring to the meandering ducts of the

sc. I] CORIOLANUS 18

The strongest nerves and small inferior veins From me receive that natural competency Whereby they live. And though that all at once, You, my good friends," — this says the belly, mark

me, — 140

First Cit. Ay, sir ; well, well.

Men. " Though all at once cannot

See what I do deliver out to each, Yet I can make my audit up, that all From me do back receive the flour of all, And leave me but the bran." What say you to 't ? 145

First Cit. It was an answer. How apply you this ?

Men. The senators of Rome are this good belly, And you the mutinous members ; for examine Their counsels and their cares, disgest things rightly Touching the weal o' the common, you shall find 1 50

No public benefit which you receive But it proceeds or comes from them to you, And no way from yourselves. What do you think, You, the great toe of this assembly ?

First Cit. I the great toe ? Why the great toe ? 155

Men. For that, being one o' the lowest, basest, poorest. Of this most wise rebellion, thou go'st foremost : Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run,

144, fiour\ Knight ; flowre F ; fiowr F 3.

human body. Verity compares North's Elizabethan writers. Compare the

Plutarch, Life of Theseus (Skeat's ed., common expression to-day, "to strain

p. 283) : *' She (Ariadne) ' did give him every nerve," = to exert one's entire

a clue of thread, by the help whereof force ; and see on nervy, ii. i. 157 post.

she taught him, how he might easily 143. audit] Short for " accounts, or

wind out of the turnings and crancks balance sheet prepared for the audit."

of the labyrinth ' " ; and reminds us of Compare Macbeth, i. vi. 27 : " To make

the figurative use in Milton's L'yl//^^o, their audit at your highness' pleasure,

27, " Quips, and cranks, and wanton Still to return your own."

wiles." In Shakespeare only the verb 149, disgest] A common spelling :

is found elsewhere, as in Venus and disgest and disgestion are used passim

Adonis, 682 : " He cranks and crosses in the works of Thomas Nash,

with a thousand doubles." 156. For that] See line 112 ante.

136. offices] Thus defined in the New 158. rascal] A rascal is a lean deer, Eng. Diet. : '• The parts of a house or not fit to be hunted ; and hence, as ap- buildings attached to a house, specially plied to men, " one belonging to the devoted to household work or service ; rabble or common herd " (The New the kitchen and rooms connected with Eng. Diet, which quotes, e.g. Fabyan, it, as pantry, scullery, cellars, larder. Chronicle, vii. 326 : '* The personys and the like." See Timon of Athens, whiche entendyd this conspiracy, were II. ii. 167 : " When all our offices have but of the rascallys of the cytie," and been oppress'd with riotious feeders." 1561, T. Norton, Calvin's Inst., Table

137. nerves] sinews, as usually in of Script. Quot. : " Hee . . . made

14

CORIOLANUS

[act I.

Lead'st first to win some vantage. But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs : Rome and her rats are at the point of battle ; The one side must have bale.

1 60

Enter CaiuS MaRCIUS.

Hail, noble Marcius ! What's the matter, you

dissentious

Mar. Thanks, rogues,

That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,

Make yourselves scabs ? First Cit. We have ever your good word.

Mar. He that will give good words to thee will flatter

Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs.

165

162. hale] Theobald ; haile F ; hail F 3.

priests of the rascals of the people.") Mr. Verity refers to Mr. Justice Mad- den's Diary of Master William Silence, p. 60, for a useful illustration from Puttenham, The Arte of English Poesie (1589) [Book III. Chap. xvi. [i], ed. Arber, p. 191] : " as one should in re- proch say to a poore man, thou raskall knave, where raskall is properly the hunters terme giuen to young deere, leane and out of season, and not to people." See also next note, and As You Like It, III. iii. 58 : " the noblest deer hath them {i.e. horns) as huge as the rascal.'^

158. in blood] *' to be in blood " was a term of forestry, meaning to be in good condition, full of vigour and spirit : see IV. V. 217 post, and 1 Henry VI, iv. ii. 48:-

" If we be English deer, be then in blood ; Not rasca/-like to fall down with

a pinch, But rather moody, mad, and des- perate stags," etc. Also notes on Love's Labour '5 Lost, IV. ii. 3, and Antony and Cleopatra, III. xiii. 174, both in this series.

159. Lead'st . . . vantage] Takest the lead in this rabble rout solely out of the hope of gaining some personal ad- vantage.

160. stijf bats] stout cudgels. See line 55 and note, ante.

162. bale] though a every common word in earlier and in other Elizabethan

writers, is not found elsewhere in Shakespeare, who, however, has bale- ful, the adjective, pretty often. It is frequently contrasted with bliss : see Gascoyne, Flowers {Works, ed. Hazlitt), I. 40 : " Amid my bale I bathe in blisse " ; Greene, Mammilia {Works, ed. Grosart), 11. 170: "her weale to woe, her bale to bliss."

164-165. That . . . scabs] Menenius contemptuously compares any views the rabble may have to a comparatively harmless and inconsiderable itch which its owner may irritate into a trouble- some sore. The sense of " Make your- selves scabs " could syntactically be, make scabs for yourselves, but is more likely = turn yourselves into scabs, i.e. disgusting and offensive rascals. Com- pare Cartwright, The Ordinary, v. iv. (Hazlitt's Dodsley, xii. 313): "Go, you are a gibing scab " ; and see Twelfth Night, 11. v. 82; Much Ado about Nothing, iii. iii. 107, etc. In Geo. Herbert's collection of proverbs {jfacula Prudentum) occurs : " The itch of disputing is the scab of the Church " : see Works, ed. Grosart, 1874, iii. 371.

167. Beneath abhorring] i.e. in a degree to excite something worse than abhorrence. For the noun compare Antony and Cleopatra, v. ii. 60 : "let the water-flies Blow me into abhorring!" and Isaiah, Ixvi. 24: "and they shall be an abhorring unto all flesh."

sc. I] CORIOLANUS 15

That like nor peace nor war ? the one affrights you, The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you, Where he should find you lions, finds you hares ; 170

Where foxes, geese : you are no surer, no, Than is the coal of fire upon the ice. Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is To make him worthy whose offence subdues him, And curse that Justice did it. Who deserves greatness 1 7 5 Deserves your hate ; and your affections are A sick man's appetite, who desires most that Which would increase his evil. He that depends Upon your favours swims with fins of lead. And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye ! Trust ye ? 1 80

I With every minute you do change a mind, And call him noble that was now your hate. Him vilde that was your garland. What 's the matter. That in these several places of the city You cry against the Noble Senate, who, 185

Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else Would feed on one another ? What 's their seeking ? Men. For corn at their own rates : whereof, they say. The city is well stor'd.

171. geeze : you are no] Theobald ; geese you are : No Ff.

172. the . . . ice] In the great frost form. Compare Antony and Cleo- of January, 1607-1608, fires were lighted patra, iv. xiv. 22.

on the frozen Thames ; some suppose that was your garland] whom you this fact was the origin of this line, were wont to speak of as the high- The suggestion was made by Professor est, the ornament of all praise. Corn- Hales in The Academy, loth May, pare Antony and Cleopatra, in this 1878. series, iv. xv. 64 : " O, wither'd is the

173-175. Your . . . did it] What garland of the war," and see the note

you excel in is crying up the man there. Also Willobie his Avisa, 1594

whom his own faults have undone, and (ed. 1904, p. 15): —

exclaiming against that Justice which *' In Lavine land though Livie boast

decrees their punishment. The thought There hath beene seene a constant

is similar in Antony and Cleopatra, i. dame :

ii. 192-194 : — Though Rome lament that she

" our slippery people, hath lost

Whose love is never link'd to the The garland of her rarest fame."

deserver 184. several] separate, various : see

Till his deserts are past"; iv. v. 124, "Twelve several times";

and again {ihid, i. iv. 43), '* the ebb'd iv. vi. 39, '* two several powers"; also

man, ne'er loved till ne'er worth The Tempest, in. i. 42 : '* for several

love." virtues Have I liked several women."

176. affections] desires, inclinations, 186. which] who ; the use we retain

as in II. iii. 229 post, and, in the in ** Our father, which art," etc.

singular, line 103 ante. 188-189. For . . . stored] See North,

183. vilde] An old and frequent Extracts, ante, p. xl.

16

COKIOLANUS

[act

Mar. Hang 'em ! They say !

They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know 190

What 's done i' the Capitol ; who 's like to rise, Who thrives, and who declines ; side factions, and

give out Conjectural marriages ; making parties strong, And feebling such as stand not in their liking, Below their cobbled shoes. They say there 's grain

enough! 195

Would the nobility lay aside their ruth. And let me use my sword, I 'd make a quarry

•' Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth,^^ and compare Munday, The Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntiyigton, iv. i., Dodsley's Old Plays (Hazlitt), viii. 171 : — ^* Leicester. But where is Hunting- ton, that noble youth ? Chester. Undone by riot. Leicester. Ah ! the greater ruth.'''' 197-199. I 'd . . . lance'] I would quarter (cut to pieces) thousands of these slaves and make a quarry (a heap of their slaughtered bodies) so high that I could barely pitch my lance over it.

197. quarry] a heap of dead : usually applied to game, but the New Eng. Diet, gives three instances where it means a heap of dead men, viz. : 1589, R. Robinson, Gold Mirr. (Chetham Soc), p. xxiii. : —

"Till to the quirry [sic] a number out of count, Were brought to reap the iust reward at last " ; 1603, KnoUes, Hist. Turks (1621), 308 : " All fowly foiled with bloud, and the quarrey of the dead"; 1611, Speed, Hist. Gt. Brit. viii. vii. § 50, 410: " They went in haste to the quarry of the dead, but by no meanes could finde the body of the King." It is very com- mon in the sense heap of dead game : see Golding's Ovid, Metamorphoses, 1567, iii. 173 (ed. Rowe, p. 66) : — '• Our weapons and our toils are moist and stained with blood of Deare, This day hath done enough as by our quarrie may appear " ; and for a figurative use, Macbeth, iv. iii. 206: " on the quarry of these murder'd deer " (applied by Ross to Macduff's slaughtered household).

191- 192. who's . . . declines'] Mr. Verity aptly compares King Lear, v. iii. 11-15 : —

" so we'll live, . . . and hear poor roguey^ Talk of court news : and we'll talk

with them too. Who loses and who wins ; who's in, who's out." With declines, compare declined in : — '• I dare him therefore To lay his gay comparisons apart And answer me declined, sword against sword." etc. Antony and Cleopatra, in. xiii. 27. Hanmer omitted the words " Who thrives " and Steevens agrees, believing that they *• destroy the metre." But six foot lines are not uncommon in Shakespeare.

192. side] take the side of. But in view of the whole passage, and especi- ally the making of imaginary matches and the arbitrary estimation of parties, there is excuse for those who prefer to take side factions in some such sense as — invent factions and the composition of these opposite " sides."

193-195- making . . . shoes] ex- aggerating the strength of some parties, and placing that of those obnoxious to them on a level with the dirt beneath their patched shoes. Shakespeare uses the verb to feeble in King John, v. ii. 146, in the sense of " to weaken " : " Shall this victorious hand he feebled here." Compare also Huloet's Die- tionarie, enlarged by John Higgins, 1572 :—

" Feebled for lack of meat or made weak."

196. ruth] pity, compassion. See Troilus and Cressida, v. iii. 48 :

SC. I.]

CORIOLANUS

17

With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high As I could pick my lance.

Men. Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded ; 200

For though abundantly they lack discretion, Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you. What says the other troop ?

Mar. They are dissolv'd : hang 'em !

They said they were an-hungry ; sigh'd forth proverbs : That hunger broke stone walls ; that dogs must eat; 205 That meat was made for mouths ; that the gods sent

not Corn for the rich men only. With these shreds They vented their complainings ; which being

answer'd, And a petition granted them, a strange one,

ipg. pick] pitch. In Henry VIII, V. iv. 94, in a part of the play in all probability not by Shakespeare, we read : " You i' the camlet, get up o' the rail : I '11 peck you o'er the pales else " ; compare Udall, Translation (1542) of the Apophthegmes of Erasmus, ed. 1564 (Roberts, p. 8g) : " He taught them to bend a bow and shoot in it, to whirle with a sling, and to picke or cast a dart " ; also Philip Stubbes, Anatomy of Abuses, 1583 (ed. Furnivall, p. 184). Describing football he writes : "For dooth not every one lye in waight for his Adversarie, seeking to over throwe him and to picke him on his nose, though it be upon hard stones " ; and, lower down on the same page, " for they have the sleights ... to hit him under the short ribbes with their griped fists, and with their knees to catch him upon the hip, and to pick him on his neck, with a hundred such murdering devices." A reference to the Eng. Dial. Diet, will show that both peck and pick in the sense of pitch are alive in English dialects to-day.

202. passing] exceedingly. Com- pare The Taming of the Shrew, ii. i. 113 : " You are passing welcome."

203. the other troop] those on "the other side o' the city" ; see line 46 of this scene.

dissolved] dispersed.

204. an-hungry] unhyphened in Ff. This form is a variant of a-hungry, in

2

which and in an-hungered, the prefix a represents of, an old intensive prefix. See Abbott, Shakes. Gram., § 24 (3).

205,206. That . . . walls ; etc.] For the first of these proverbial sayings, Mr. Hart supplies references to Olde Fortunatus, 1600 (Pearson's Dekker, I. 115): "hunger is made of Gun- powder, or Gun-powder of hunger ; for they both eate through stone walles " ; Marston, Antonio's Revenge, 1602, v. ii. 2 : '* They say hunger breakes thorough stone walles"; Eastward Hoe (Ben Jonson, etc.), 1605, v. i. (7th speech) : '* • Hunger,' they say, ♦ breakes stone wals.' " " Dogs must eat," reminds us of the parable in Matthew, xv. and the woman's answer, "Truth, Lord: yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their masters' table " ; and " meat was made for mouths," contains the same thought as "All meats to be eaten, and all maids to be wed " (Hey wood, Proverbs, pt. ii. chap. ii. Works, ed. Farmer,

ii. 55)-

207. shreds] Shakespeare only uses shreds once again, and in a different connection, Hamlet, in. iv. 102: "A king of shreds and patches." We might compare the expression odd ends, Richard III. i. iii. 337 : " old odd ends stolen out of holy writ."

208. vented their complainings] aired their grievances.

answer'd] i.e. not merely replied to, but met, in a way to satisfy them.

18

CORIOLANUS

[act I.

To break the heart of generosity, 2 1 o

And make bold power look pale, they threw their caps As they would hang them on the horns o' the moon. Shouting their emulation.

Men. What is granted them ?

Mar. Five tribunes, to defend their vulgar wisdoms,

Of their own choice : one 's Junius Brutus, 215

Sicinius Velutus, and I know not — 'Sdeath !

The rabble should have first unroof'd the city,

Ere so prevail'd with me ; it will in time

Win upon power, and throw forth greater themes

For insurrection's arguing.

Men. This is strange. 220

Mar. Go ; get you home, you fragments !

213. Shouting] Pope ; Shooting F. 221. Go; gef] Go get F.

210. generosity'] nobility, the nobles — abstract for concrete and Latinism combined. See Lyly, Euphues, 1579, Certeine Letters, etc. (Arber, p. igo, line 25) : " Nobilitie began in thine auncestors and endeth in thee, and the Generositie that they gayned by vertue thou hast blotted with vice." Shake- speare in Measure for Measure, iv. vi. 13, has " the generous citizens " for the noble citizens, and in Othello, in. iii. 280 : " the generous islanders " means the noblemen of the island of Cyprus.

213. Shouting their emulation] '* Each of them striving to shout louder than the rest " (Malone). This, or emulat- ing one another in shouts of triumph, is a likely interpretation, for the feeling now uppermost is exultation at success ; but some keep emulation = envious rivalry. Mr. Verity suggests "malici- ous triumph."

214. Five tribunes] See North, Ex- tracts, ante, p. xxxii.

216. ^Sdeath] God's death ; only found here in Shakespeare, but com- pare '"Sblood," Othello, i. i. 4, and often ; *' 'Swounds," Hamlet, 11. ii. 604, and V. i. 297.

219. Win upon power] For win upon in the sense of gain upon, get the better of, see Antony and Cleopatra, 11. iv. g, and the note in this series, in the example given in which it may even be taken as equivalent to " surpass." An expression of a similar type is grow

217. unroof d] Theobald; unroo'st F.

upon as used in As You Like It, i. i. 90, ** Begin you to grow upon me ? " Power = those in power, the governing class, in line 211 a»^^. Renderings of our text are: "gradually make an in- road on the power wielded by the nobles " (Deighton). — This represents the usual explanation. — " encroach on the aristocracy (' the powerful class ') " (Verity) ; " get the advantage over au- thority" (Wright, who quotes the Antony and Cleopatra passage). Mr. E. K. Chambers (Warwick Shakespeare) explains " take advantage of the power already won to win more," but without discussion or evidence in support.

throw . . . themes] *' give birth to topics of larger importance." Deighton, who is tempted to read "throe forth " in imitation of Antony and Cleopatra, in. vii. 81, "With news the time 's with labour, and throes forth Each minute some." Throes in this passage is Steevens' reading for throwes of Ff, a common spelling for throes, as in The Tempest, 11. i. 231: —

"a birth indeed Which throwes thee much to yield."

220. For . . . arguing] For those up in insurrection (abstract for concrete) to urge and maintain.

221. fragments] For fragment as a term of contempt compare Troilus and Cressida, v. i. 9 : —

*' Ther. . . . here 's a letter for thee. AcJiil. From y/hence, fragment ? "

sc. I] CORIOLANUS 19

Enter a Messenger^ hastily.

Mess. Where 's Caius Marcius ?

Mar. Here: what 's the matter?

Mess. The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms.

Mar. I am glad on 't ; then we shell ha' means to vent

Our musty superfluity. See, our best elders. 225

Enter Cominius, Titus Lartius, and other Senators ; JUNIUS Brutus and Sicinius Velutus.

First Sen. Marcius, 'tis true that you have lately told us ;

The Volsces are in arms. Mar. They have a leader,

Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to 't.

I sin in envying his nobility,

And were I any thing but what I am, 2 30

I would wish me only he. Com. You have fought together.

Mar. Were half to half the world by the ears, and he

Upon my party, I 'd revolt, to make

Only my wars with him : he is a lion

That I am proud to hunt. First Sen. Then, worthy Marcius, 235

' Attend upon Cominius to these wars. Com. It is your former promise. Mar. Sir, it is ;

And I am constant. Titus Lartius, thou

Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face.

What ! art thou stiff? stand'st out ? Tit. No, Caius Marcius ; 240

225. Enter . . . ] As Malone and Capell, substantially; Enter Sicinius Velutus, Annius Brutus Cominisn {sic), Titus Lartius, with other Senatours. F. 231. together.} Capell; together ? F. 238. Lartius} Rowe; Lucius F (here

and elsewhere).

and the idea is the same as in Pet- 232. by the ears} at variance. See

ruchio's abuse of the tailor, in The All '5 Well that Ends Well, i. ii. i : —

Taming oj the Shrew, iv. iii. no: "The Florentines and Senoys are

"Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou by the ears.^^

remnant," save that there the terms A very common expression, and still

have a special application. well alive.

22?). put you toH} give you quite 240. art thou stiff?] Dr. Aldis

enough to do. Compare The Winter^s Wright, in the Clarendon Press edition,

Tale, I. ii. 16 : — explains stiff here as obstinate ; but it

" We are tougher, brother, seems to mean stiff with age.

Than you can /)M^ «s fo 7." stand'st out?] do you take no

r

20 CORIOLANUS [act i.

I '11 lean upon one crutch and fight with t' other,

Ere stay behind this business. Men. O ! true-bred.

First Sen. Your company to the Capitol ; where I know

Our greatest friends attend us. Tit. [To COMINIUS.] Lead you on :

[To MarciuS.] Follow Cominius ; we must follow you ; 245

Right worthy you priority. Com. Noble Marcius !

First Sen. [To the Citizens.^ Hence ! To your homes !

be gone. Mar. Nay, let them follow :

The Vol sees have much corn ; take these rats thither

To gnaw their garners. Worshipful mutiners,

Your valour puts well forth; pray, follow. 250

[Exeunt Senators^ Cominius^ Marcius^ Titus, and Menenius. Citizens steal away. Sic. Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius ? **

Bru. He has no equal.

Sic. When we were chosen tribunes for the people, — Bru. Mark'd you his lip and eyes ?

243, 247. First Sen^ 1 Sen. Rowe ; Sen. F. 244, 245. [To Com.} . . . [To Mar.} Cambridge edd. (Malone conj.). 244-246. Lead . . . priority] As Pope ; prose Ff. 247. To the