Marcius
I will fight none but you, for I hate you
Worse than a perjuror.
Aufidius
We hate alike.
Africa has no serpent I abhor
More than your envied fame. Stand fast.
Marcius
Let the first to yield ground die the other’s slave,
And the gods doom him after!
Aufidius
If I run, Marcius,
Hunt me down like a hare.
Marcius
Within these three hours, Tullus,
I fought alone within your Corioli’s walls,
And struck what blows I pleased. It’s not my blood
You see me masked in; for your revenge
Screw up your power to the utmost.
Aufidius
If you were Hector,
Champion of your boasted ancestors,
You’d not escape me here.
(They fight. Some Volscians come to the help of Aufidius)
Zealous but not valiant, you have shamed me
With your detested succor.
(They go out)
f)
The Roman camp near Corioli.
Flourish. Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Enter from one side Cominius with the Romans; from the other side, Marcius with his arm in a sling.
Cominius
If I should tell you about this day’s work,
You’d not believe your deeds; but I’ll report it
Where senators will mingle tears with smiles,
Where great patricians hearing it will shrug,
But then be struck with wonder; where ladies thrilled
With fright will ask for more; where the dull tribunes,
Who like the stinking plebs abhor your honors,
Will say despite themselves: “We thank the gods
That Rome has such a soldier.”
But you have barely come for the end of this feast,
Having fully dined before.
(Enter Titus Lartius with his men)
Lartius
O general,
Here is the steed, we the caparison.
If you had seen …
Marcius
Come, come. No more. My mother,
Who is entitled to extol her blood,
Annoys me with her praises. I have done
What you have done, to wit, my best; induced
As you have been by love of country.
Anyone who has done his utmost
Has done as well as I.
Cominius
You shall not
Stifle your glory; Rome must know
The value of her own. It would be concealment
Worse than a theft, no less than a betrayal,
To hide your doings, and to silence what,
If carried to the pinnacle of praise,
Would still seem slighted; therefore, I beseech you—
In token of what you are, not to reward
What you have done—let me address the army.
Marcius
I have some wounds upon me, and they smart
To hear themselves remembered.
Cominius
Should they not,
Well might they fester with ingratitude
And plague themselves to death. Of all the horses
We’ve taken, and we’ve taken good ones, of all
The treasure captured in the fields and city,
We render you the tenth, to be selected
Before the general distribution, at
Your choice alone.
Marcius
I thank you, general, but
I cannot make my heart consent to take
A bribe to pay my sword. I must refuse it,
I’d rather take an equal share with those
Who only looked upon the doings.
(A long flourish. All cry: “Marcius! Marcius!” and throw up their caps and lances. Cominius and Lartius, stand bareheaded)
Let these same instruments which you profane
Never sound again! If drums and trumpets
Are flatterers in the field of war
Then courts and cities are but lies and sham.
When steel grows soft as the parasite’s silk,
Let it no longer serve as a warrior’s shield.
No more, I say! Because I have not washed
My nose that bled, or downed some feeble wretch—
As many others here have done unnoticed—
You glorify me with fulsome acclamations,
As if I wished to feed my humble person
On praises spiced with lies.
Cominius
You are too modest,
More cruel to your just repute than grateful
To us who represent you truly. By your leave,
If you are angry at yourself, we’ll put you
Like one intent upon his harm, in manacles,
So we can speak with you more safely. Be it known
To all the world as it is to us that Caius Marcius
Has won the laurels of this war, in token of which,
My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him,
With full equipment. And from this time on,
For what he did before Corioli, call him,
With all the applause and clamor of the army,
Caius Marcius Coriolanus! Bear
Your new name forever nobly!
(Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums)
All
Caius Marcius Coriolanus!
Coriolanus
Now I’ll go wash;
And when my face is clean, you’ll see
Whether I blush or not. However, thank you;
I mean to ride your horse, and at all times
Show myself worthy of my new name
As best I’m able.
Cominius
Come to our tent
Where, before lying down to rest, we’ll write
To Rome of our success. You, Titus Lartius,
Return to Corioli. Send their leaders
To us in Rome, that we may draw up articles
Of peace, for their own good and ours.
Lartius
I will, my lord.
Coriolanus
The gods begin to mock me, I who have just
Declined most princely gifts am compelled to beg
A favor of my general.
Cominius
Take it; it’s yours. What is it?
Coriolanus
I lodged some years ago in Corioli
At a poor man’s house. He was kind to me.
He called out to me—I saw him prisoner—
But then Aufidius came within my view
And rage overwhelmed my pity. I request you
To give my poor host freedom.
Cominius
A handsome plea!
Were he the butcher of my son, he should
Be free as the wind. Deliver him, Titus.
Lartius
Marcius, his name?
Coriolanus
By Jupiter, forgot!
I am weary; yes, my memory is tired.
Have we no wine here?
Let us go to our tent.
The blood upon your face is drying; it’s time
Your wounds were cared for. Come.
(They go out)
g)
The Volscian camp.
A flourish. Trumpets. Enter Tullus Aufidius, bloody, with two or three soldiers.
Aufidius
The town is taken.
First Soldiers
It will be given back on certain terms.
Aufidius
Terms?
I wish I were a Roman, for I cannot,
Being a Volscian, be what I am. Terms?
What sort of terms can be expected by
The party that sues for mercy. Five times, Marcius,
I’ve fought with you; five times you�
�ve beaten me,
And will continue, I think, if we should fight
As often as we eat. By the elements,
If ever again I meet him face to face
He’s mine or I am his. My ambition
Has lost a measure of its honor, for once
I hoped to vanquish him on equal terms,
Sword against sword, but now I’ll strike him as
I can; by wrath or craft I’ll get him.
First Soldier
He’s the devil.
Aufidius
Bolder, though not so subtle. My valor is poisoned
With letting him stain it; for him it will
Bely itself. Neither sleep nor sanctuary,
Being naked or sick; nor temple nor capitol,
Nor prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice—
All obstacles to fury—shall assert
Their worn-out privilege and prerogative
Against my hate of Marcius. Wherever
I find him, even at home under my brother’s
Protection, in defiance of the laws
Of hospitality, I’ll wash my angry
Hands in his heart. Go now to the city;
Learn how it’s held and who are being sent
To Rome as hostages.
First Soldier
Will you not go?
Aufidius
I am expected at the cypress grove. I pray you—
It’s south of the city mills—to bring me word
How the world goes, so I may adjust my step
To its pace.
First Soldier
I will, sir.
(They go out)
* For scene 3, Act One of his adaptation Brecht intended to combine Shakespeare’s scenes 4–10 into a big battle scene. He planned to write this new scene 3 in the course of production because he thought it necessary to study the positions and movements of the actors in rehearsal. He did not live to do this work. Consequently Shakespeare’s scenes 4 to 10 are given here in Dorothea Tieck’s translation as scenes 3 a–g. (Note to German edition.)
In the English of these scenes Shakespeare’s text is somewhat modified to accord with the style employed in the translation of the rest of the play.
Act Two
1
Rome. A public place.
Enter the tribunes Brutus and Sicinius.
Brutus The augurs, I hear, have received news from the field this morning.
Sicinius The worthy priests do not honor me with more confidences than you, Brutus, but I know the news is bad.
Brutus Why necessarily bad?
Sicinius Because either the Volscians have won, and then they will be the masters of Rome, or Caius Marcius has won, and then he will be master.
Brutus That’s the truth. Here comes Menenius Agrippa.
(Enter Menenius)
Menenius How goes it, herdsmen of the plebeian cattle?
Sicinius Food is in short supply on the banks of the Tiber. But it seems you have had news.
Menenius Yes, from Caius Marcius, but you don’t love him. Tell me: whom does the wolf love?
Sicinius The lamb.
Menenius Yes, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius.
Brutus He’s a lamb that roars like a bear.
Menenius No, he’s a bear that lives like a lamb. Do you know how you are judged in the city? I mean by us, the upper classes?
Brutus Well, how are we judged this morning?
Menenius As a pair of conceited, violent, unpatriotic rogues, not good enough to serve beer to a fishwife.
Sicinius Come, sir, come, we know you.
Brutus (to Sicinius as they leave) Now it’s clear what the news is. Marcius has conquered. Otherwise the fellow wouldn’t be so insolent.
(Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria)
Menenius Where are you going, my noble ladies?
Volumnia Honorable Menenius, my boy is on his way. Don’t delay us.
Menenius Marcius coming home?
Volumnia Yes, and with the highest honors.
Menenius Marcius coming home!
Volumnia and Virgilia Yes, it’s true.
Volumnia Here’s a letter from him; the senate has one, his wife has one, and I think there’s one at home for you.
Menenius A letter for me?
Virgilia Indeed there’s a letter for you. I’ve seen it.
Menenius A letter for me? That will keep me in good health for seven years; I’ll spit in my doctor’s face. But—isn’t he wounded? Usually he comes home wounded.
Virgilia Oh no, no, no.
Volumnia Oh, he’s wounded, I thank the gods for it.
Menenius And so do I, if it’s not too bad. Is he bringing victory in his pocket?—If so, his wounds become him.
Volumnia Yes, on his brows, Menenius. For the third time he’s coming home with the oaken garland.
Menenius Has he given Aufidius a lesson?
Volumnia Titus Lartius writes that they fought together but Aufidius escaped.
Menenius Indeed, Caius Marcius is not the man to cross, not for all the chests in Corioli and all the money in them. Has it been reported to the senate?
Volumnia Ladies, we must go. Yes, yes, yes. The senate has received letters from the general, giving my son full credit for the capture of Corioli.
Menenius Splendid!—Where is he wounded, ladies?
Volumnia In the shoulder and in the left arm. There will be large scars to show the people when he runs for office. And in the battle against Tarquin he received seven body wounds.
Menenius One in the neck and two in the thigh. That makes nine that I know of.
(Trumpets)
Menenius They’re coming.
Volumnia
And under the step of the mighty
The same earth trembles both in fear and joy.
And many are no more, and home comes the victor.
(Enter Cominius and Titus; between them, crowned with an oaken garland, Coriolanus)
Herald
To all and sundry be it known
That Caius Marcius fought his way unaided
Into the fortified city of Corioli.
For which deed, his name and title
Shall henceforth be Coriolanus.
Menenius
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!
Coriolanus
No more of that, I beg you.
Cominius
Look, sir, your mother.
Coriolanus
Oh!
(Goes to her)
I know you have petitioned all the gods
For my success.
(He kneels down before her)
Volumnia
No, stand up, soldier. My dear Caius
My worthy Marcius, and—what was it, how
Son, must I call you now? Ah yes, Coriolanus.
But oh, your wife!
Coriolanus
Hail, my dear silence!
Would you have laughed if I’d come home in a coffin,
That you weep to see me triumph? Ah, my dear
The widows in Corioli have such eyes
And the mothers who lack sons.
Menenius
Now the gods crown you.
Coriolanus
You still alive? (To Valeria) Forgive me!
Menenius
A hundred thousand welcomes! I could weep
And I could laugh, I am light and heavy. Welcome!
Rome ought to deify all three of you
But even now we’ve got some crab trees here
That no amount of grafting will make sweet
To your taste.
Cominius
The old man hasn’t changed.
Coriolanus
Still the old Menenius, eh? (To Volumnia and Virgilia) Your hand!