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To pluck away their power; as now at last

       Given hostile strokes, and that not in the presence

       Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers

       That do distribute it;—in the name o’ the people,

       And in the power of us the tribunes, we,

       Even from this instant, banish him our city,

       In peril of precipitation

       From off the rock Tarpeian, never more

       To enter our Rome gates: I’ the people’s name,

       I say it shall be so.

       CITIZENS.

       It shall be so, it shall be so; let him away;

       He’s banished, and it shall be so.

       COMINIUS.

       Hear me, my masters and my common friends,—

       SICINIUS.

       He’s sentenc’d; no more hearing.

       COMINIUS.

       Let me speak:

       I have been consul, and can show for Rome

       Her enemies’ marks upon me. I do love

       My country’s good with a respect more tender,

       More holy and profound, than mine own life,

       My dear wife’s estimate, her womb’s increase,

       And treasure of my loins; then if I would

       Speak that,—

       SICINIUS.

       We know your drift. Speak what?

       BRUTUS.

       There’s no more to be said, but he is banish’d,

       As enemy to the people and his country:

       It shall be so.

       CITIZENS.

       It shall be so, it shall be so.

       CORIOLANUS.

       You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate

       As reek o’ the rotten fens, whose loves I prize

       As the dead carcasses of unburied men

       That do corrupt my air,—I banish you;

       And here remain with your uncertainty!

       Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts!

       Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,

       Fan you into despair! Have the power still

       To banish your defenders; till at length

       Your ignorance,—which finds not till it feels,—

       Making but reservation of yourselves,—

       Still your own foes,—deliver you, as most

       Abated captives to some nation

       That won you without blows! Despising,

       For you, the city, thus I turn my back:

       There is a world elsewhere.

       [Exeunt CORIOLANUS, COMINIUS, MENENIUS, Senators, and

       Patricians.]

       AEDILE.

       The people’s enemy is gone, is gone!

       CITIZENS.

       Our enemy is banish’d, he is gone! Hoo! hoo!

       [Shouting, and throwing up their caps.]

       SICINIUS.

       Go, see him out at gates, and follow him,

       As he hath follow’d you, with all despite;

       Give him deserv’d vexation. Let a guard

       Attend us through the city.

       CITIZENS.

       Come, come, let’s see him out at gates; come.

       The gods preserve our noble tribunes! Come.

       [Exeunt.]

       ACT IV.

       SCENE I. Rome. Before a gate of the city.

       [Enter CORIOLANUS, VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, MENENIUS, COMINIUS,and several young Patricians.]

       CORIOLANUS.

       Come, leave your tears; a brief farewell:—he beast

       With many heads butts me away.—Nay, mother,

       Where is your ancient courage? you were us’d

       To say extremities was the trier of spirits;

       That common chances common men could bear;

       That when the sea was calm all boats alike

       Show’d mastership in floating; fortune’s blows,

       When most struck home, being gentle wounded, craves

       A noble cunning; you were us’d to load me

       With precepts that would make invincible

       The heart that conn’d them.

       VIRGILIA.

       O heavens! O heavens!

       CORIOLANUS.

       Nay, I pr’ythee, woman,—

       VOLUMNIA.

       Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome,

       And occupations perish!

       CORIOLANUS.

       What, what, what!

       I shall be lov’d when I am lack’d. Nay, mother,

       Resume that spirit when you were wont to say,

       If you had been the wife of Hercules,

       Six of his labours you’d have done, and sav’d

       Your husband so much sweat.—Cominius,

       Droop not; adieu.—Farewell, my wife,—my mother:

       I’ll do well yet.—Thou old and true Menenius,

       Thy tears are salter than a younger man’s,

       And venomous to thine eyes.—My sometime general,

       I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld

       Heart-hard’ning spectacles; tell these sad women

       ‘Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes,

       As ‘tis to laugh at ‘em.—My mother, you wot well

       My hazards still have been your solace: and

       Believe’t not lightly,—though I go alone,

       Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen

       Makes fear’d and talk’d of more than seen,—your son

       Will or exceed the common or be caught

       With cautelous baits and practice.

       VOLUMNIA.

       My first son,

       Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius

       With thee awhile: determine on some course

       More than a wild exposture to each chance

       That starts i’ the way before thee.

       CORIOLANUS.

       O the gods!

       COMINIUS.

       I’ll follow thee a month, devise with thee

       Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us,

       And we of thee: so, if the time thrust forth

       A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send

       O’er the vast world to seek a single man;

      

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