The Tragedy of Coriolanus. Уильям Шекспир

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The Tragedy of Coriolanus - Уильям Шекспир


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than a promise-breaker.

AUFIDIUS

      We hate alike:

      Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor

      More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot.

MARCIUS

      Let the first budger die the other's slave,

      And the gods doom him after!

AUFIDIUS

      If I fly, Marcius,

      Halloo me like a hare.

MARCIUS

      Within these three hours, Tullus,

      Alone I fought in your Corioli walls,

      And made what work I pleas'd: 'tis not my blood

      Wherein thou seest me mask'd: for thy revenge

      Wrench up thy power to the highest.

AUFIDIUS

      Wert thou the Hector

      That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny,

      Thou shouldst not scape me here. —

      [They fight, and certain Volsces come to the aid of AUFIDIUS.]

      Officious, and not valiant, – you have sham'd me

      In your condemned seconds.

      [Exeunt fighting, driven in by MAR.]

      SCENE IX. The Roman camp

      [Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter, at one side, COMINIUS and Romans; at the other side, MARCIUS, with his arm in a scarf, and other Romans.]

COMINIUS

      If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work,

      Thou't not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it

      Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles;

      Where great patricians shall attend, and shrug,

      I' the end admire; where ladies shall be frighted

      And, gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dull tribunes,

      That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours,

      Shall say, against their hearts 'We thank the gods

      Our Rome hath such a soldier.'

      Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast,

      Having fully dined before.

      [Enter TITUS LARTIUS, with his power, from the pursuit.]

LARTIUS

      O general,

      Here is the steed, we the caparison:

      Hadst thou beheld, —

MARCIUS

      Pray now, no more: my mother,

      Who has a charter to extol her blood,

      When she does praise me grieves me. I have done

      As you have done, – that's what I can; induced

      As you have been, – that's for my country:

      He that has but effected his good will

      Hath overta'en mine act.

COMINIUS

      You shall not be

      The grave of your deserving; Rome must know

      The value of her own: 'twere a concealment

      Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement,

      To hide your doings; and to silence that

      Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd,

      Would seem but modest: therefore, I beseech you, —

      In sign of what you are, not to reward

      What you have done, – before our army hear me.

MARCIUS

      I have some wounds upon me, and they smart

      To hear themselves remember'd.

COMINIUS

      Should they not,

      Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude,

      And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses, —

      Whereof we have ta'en good, and good store, – of all

      The treasure in this field achiev'd and city,

      We render you the tenth; to be ta'en forth

      Before the common distribution at

      Your only choice.

MARCIUS

      I thank you, general,

      But cannot make my heart consent to take

      A bribe to pay my sword: I do refuse it;

      And stand upon my common part with those

      That have beheld the doing.

      [A long flourish. They all cry 'Marcius, Marcius!', cast up their

      caps and lances. COMINIUS and LARTIUS stand bare.]

      May these same instruments which you profane

      Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall

      I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be

      Made all of false-fac'd soothing.

      When steel grows soft as the parasite's silk,

      Let him be made a coverture for the wars.

      No more, I say! for that I have not wash'd

      My nose that bled, or foil'd some debile wretch, —

      Which, without note, here's many else have done, —

      You shout me forth in acclamations hyperbolical;

      As if I loved my little should be dieted

      In praises sauc'd with lies.

COMINIUS

      Too modest are you;

      More cruel to your good report than grateful

      To us that give you truly; by your patience,

      If 'gainst yourself you be incens'd, we'll put you, —

      Like one that means his proper harm, – in manacles,

      Then reason safely with you. – Therefore be it known,

      As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius

      Wears this war's garland: in token of the which,

      My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him,

      With all his trim belonging; and from this time,

      For what he did before Corioli, call him,

      With all the applause – and clamour of the host,

      'Caius Marcius Coriolanus.' —

      Bear the addition nobly ever!

      [Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums]

ALL

      Caius Marcius Coriolanus!

CORIOLANUS

      I will go wash;

      And when my face is fair you shall perceive

      Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thank you; —

      I mean to stride your steed; and at all times

      To undercrest your good addition

      To the fairness of my power.

COMINIUS

      So, to our tent;

      Where, ere we do repose us, we will write

      To Rome of


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