Shakespeare's First Folio Part 472

Oh World, thy slippery turnes! Friends now fast sworn, Whose double bosomes seemes to weare one heart, Whose Houres, whose Bed, whose Meale and Exercise Are still together: who Twin (as 'twere) in Loue, Vnseparable, shall within this houre, On a dissention of a Doit, breake out To bitterest Enmity: So fellest Foes, Whose Pa.s.sions, and whose Plots haue broke their sleep To take the one the other, by some chance, Some tricke not worth an Egge, shall grow deere friends And inter-ioyne their yssues. So with me, My Birth-place haue I, and my loues vpon This Enemie Towne: Ile enter, if he slay me He does faire Iustice: if he giue me way, Ile do his Country Seruice.

Enter.

Musicke playes. Enter a Seruingman.

1 Ser. Wine, Wine, Wine: What seruice is heere? I thinke our Fellowes are asleepe.

Enter another Seruingman.

2 Ser. Where's Cotus: my M[aster]. cals for him: Cotus.

Exit

Enter Coriola.n.u.s.

Corio. A goodly House: The Feast smels well: but I appeare not like a Guest.

Enter the first Seruingman.

1 Ser. What would you haue Friend? whence are you?

Here's no place for you: pray go to the doore?

Exit

Corio. I haue deseru'd no better entertainment, in being Coriola.n.u.s.

Enter second Seruant.

2 Ser. Whence are you sir? Ha's the Porter his eyes in his head, that he giues entrance to such Companions?

Pray get you out

Corio. Away

2 Ser. Away? Get you away

Corio. Now th'art troublesome

2 Ser. Are you so braue: Ile haue you talkt with anon Enter 3 Seruingman, the 1 meets him.

3 What Fellowes this?

1 A strange one as euer I look'd on: I cannot get him out o'thhouse: Prythee call my Master to him

3 What haue you to do here fellow? Pray you auoid the house

Corio. Let me but stand, I will not hurt your Harth

3 What are you?

Corio. A Gentleman

3 A maru'llous poore one

Corio. True, so I am

3 Pray you poore Gentleman, take vp some other station: Heere's no place for you, pray you auoid: Come

Corio. Follow your Function, go, and batten on colde bits.

Pushes him away from him.

3 What you will not? Prythee tell my Maister what a strange Guest he ha's heere

2 And I shall.

Exit second Seruingman.

3 Where dwel'st thou?

Corio. Vnder the Canopy

3 Vnder the Canopy?

Corio. I

3 Where's that?

Corio. I'th City of Kites and crowes

3 I'th City of Kites and Crowes? What an a.s.se it is, then thou dwel'st with Dawes too?

Corio. No, I serue not thy Master

3 How sir? Do you meddle with my Master?

Corio. I, tis an honester seruice, then to meddle with thy Mistris: Thou prat'st, and prat'st, serue with thy trencher: Hence.

Beats him away

Enter Auffidius with the Seruingman.

Auf. Where is this Fellow?

2 Here sir, I'de haue beaten him like a dogge, but for disturbing the Lords within

Auf. Whence com'st thou? What wouldst y? Thy name?

Why speak'st not? Speake man: What's thy name?

Corio. If Tullus not yet thou know'st me, and seeing me, dost not thinke me for the man I am, necessitie commands me name my selfe

Auf. What is thy name?

Corio. A name vnmusicall to the Volcians eares, And harsh in sound to thine

Auf. Say, what's thy name?

Thou hast a Grim apparance, and thy Face Beares a Command in't: Though thy Tackles torne, Thou shew'st a n.o.ble Vessell: What's thy name?

Corio. Prepare thy brow to frowne: knowst y me yet?

Auf. I know thee not? Thy Name: Corio. My name is Caius Martius, who hath done To thee particularly, and to all the Volces Great hurt and Mischiefe: thereto witnesse may My Surname Coriola.n.u.s. The painfull Seruice, The extreme Dangers, and the droppes of Blood Shed for my thanklesse Country, are requitted: But with that Surname, a good memorie And witnesse of the Malice and Displeasure Which thou should'st beare me, only that name remains.

The Cruelty and Enuy of the people, Permitted by our dastard n.o.bles, who Haue all forsooke me, hath deuour'd the rest: And suffer'd me by th' voyce of Slaues to be Hoop'd out of Rome. Now this extremity, Hath brought me to thy Harth, not out of Hope (Mistake me not) to saue my life: for if I had fear'd death, of all the Men i'th' World I would haue voided thee. But in meere spight To be full quit of those my Banishers, Stand I before thee heere: Then if thou hast A heart of wreake in thee, that wilt reuenge Thine owne particular wrongs, and stop those maimes Of shame seene through thy Country, speed thee straight And make my misery serue thy turne: So vse it, That my reuengefull Seruices may proue As Benefits to thee. For I will fight Against my Cankred Countrey, with the Spleene Of all the vnder Fiends. But if so be, Thou dar'st not this, and that to proue more Fortunes Th'art tyr'd, then in a word, I also am Longer to liue most wearie: and present My throat to thee, and to thy Ancient Malice: Which not to cut, would shew thee but a Foole, Since I haue euer followed thee with hate, Drawne Tunnes of Blood out of thy Countries brest, And cannot liue but to thy shame, vnlesse It be to do thee seruice

Auf. Oh Martius, Martius; Each word thou hast spoke, hath weeded from my heart A roote of Ancient Enuy. If Iupiter Should from yond clowd speake diuine things, And say 'tis true; I'de not beleeue them more Then thee all-n.o.ble Martius. Let me twine Mine armes about that body, where against My grained Ash an hundred times hath broke, And scarr'd the Moone with splinters: heere I cleep The Anuile of my Sword, and do contest As hotly, and as n.o.bly with thy Loue, As euer in Ambitious strength, I did Contend against thy Valour. Know thou first, I lou'd the Maid I married: neuer man Sigh'd truer breath. But that I see thee heere Thou n.o.ble thing, more dances my rapt heart, Then when I first my wedded Mistris saw Bestride my Threshold. Why, thou Mars I tell thee, We haue a Power on foote: and I had purpose Once more to hew thy Target from thy Brawne, Or loose mine Arme for't: Thou hast beate mee out Twelue seuerall times, and I haue nightly since Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thy selfe and me: We haue beene downe together in my sleepe, Vnbuckling Helmes, fisting each others Throat, And wak'd halfe dead with nothing. Worthy Martius, Had we no other quarrell else to Rome, but that Thou art thence Banish'd, we would muster all From twelue, to seuentie: and powring Warre Into the bowels of vngratefull Rome, Like a bold Flood o're-beate. Oh come, go in, And take our friendly Senators by'th' hands Who now are heere, taking their leaues of mee, Who am prepar'd against your Territories, Though not for Rome it selfe