The Complete Tragedies of William Shakespeare - All 12 Books in One Edition. William Shakespeare

       THIRD SERVANT.

       Where dwell’st thou?

       CORIOLANUS.

       Under the canopy.

       THIRD SERVANT.

       Under the canopy?

       CORIOLANUS.

       Ay.

       THIRD SERVANT.

       Where’s that?

       CORIOLANUS.

       I’ the city of kites and crows.

       THIRD SERVANT. I’ the city of kites and crows!—What an ass it is!—Then thou dwell’st with daws too?

       CORIOLANUS.

       No, I serve not thy master.

       THIRD SERVANT.

       How, sir! Do you meddle with my master?

       CORIOLANUS.

       Ay; ‘tis an honester service than to meddle with thy mistress.

       Thou prat’st and prat’st; serve with thy trencher, hence!

       [Beats him away.]

       [Enter AUFIDIUS and the second SERVANT.]

       AUFIDIUS.

       Where is this fellow?

       SECOND SERVANT. Here, sir; I’d have beaten him like a dog, but for disturbing the lords within.

       AUFIDIUS.

       Whence com’st thou? what wouldst thou? thy name?

       Why speak’st not? speak, man: what’s thy name?

       CORIOLANUS.

       [Unmuffling.] If, Tullus,

       Not yet thou know’st me, and, seeing me, dost not

       Think me for the man I am, necessity

       Commands me name myself.

       AUFIDIUS.

       What is thy name?

       [Servants retire.]

       CORIOLANUS.

       A name unmusical to the Volscians’ ears,

       And harsh in sound to thine.

       AUFIDIUS.

       Say, what’s thy name?

       Thou has a grim appearance, and thy face

       Bears a command in’t; though thy tackle’s torn,

       Thou show’st a noble vessel: what’s thy name?

       CORIOLANUS.

       Prepare thy brow to frown:—know’st thou me yet?

       AUFIDIUS.

       I know thee not:—thy name?

       CORIOLANUS.

       My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done

       To thee particularly, and to all the Volsces,

       Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may

       My surname, Coriolanus: the painful service,

       The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood

       Shed for my thankless country, are requited

       But with that surname; a good memory,

       And witness of the malice and displeasure

       Which thou shouldst bear me: only that name 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

       Whoop’d out of Rome. Now, this extremity

       Hath brought me to thy hearth: not out of hope,

       Mistake me not, to save my life; for if

       I had fear’d death, of all the men i’ the world

       I would have ‘voided thee; but in mere spite,

       To be full quit of those my banishers,

       Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast

       A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge

       Thine own particular wrongs, and stop those maims

       Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee straight

       And make my misery serve thy turn: so use it

       That my revengeful services may prove

       As benefits to thee; for I will fight

       Against my canker’d country with the spleen

       Of all the under fiends. But if so be

       Thou dar’st not this, and that to prove more fortunes

       Th’art tir’d, then, in a word, I also am

       Longer to live most weary, and present

       My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice;

       Which not to cut would show thee but a fool,

       Since I have ever follow’d thee with hate,

       Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country’s breast,

       And cannot live but to thy shame, unless

       It be to do thee service.

       AUFIDIUS.

       O Marcius, Marcius!

       Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart

       A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter

       Should from yond cloud speak divine things,

       And say ”Tis true,’ I’d not believe them more

       Than thee, all noble Marcius.—Let me twine

       Mine arms about that body, where against

       My grained ash an hundred times hath broke

       And scar’d the moon with splinters; here I clip

       The anvil of my sword, and do contest

       As hotly and as nobly with thy love

       As ever in ambitious strength I did

       Contend against thy valour. Know thou first,

       I lov’d the maid I married; never man

       Sighed truer breath; but that I see thee here,

       Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart

       Than when I first my wedded mistress saw

       Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell thee

       We have a power on foot; and I had purpose

       Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn,

       Or lose mine arm for’t: thou hast beat me out

       Twelve several times, and I have nightly since

       Dreamt of encounters ‘twixt thyself and me;

       We have been down together in my sleep,

       Unbuckling helms, fisting each other’s throat,

       And wak’d half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius,

       Had we no other quarrel else to Rome, but that

       Thou art thence banish’d, we would muster all

       From twelve to seventy; and, pouring war

       Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,

       Like a bold flood o’erbear. O, come, go in,

       And take our friendly senators by the hands;

       Who now are here, taking their leaves of me,

       Who am prepar’d against your territories,

       Though not for Rome itself.

       CORIOLANUS.