When the does praife me, grieves me. I have done,
is you have done; that's what I can; induced
is you have been; that's for my country:
le that has but effected his good will
lath overta'en mine act.
All tongues fpeak of him, and the bleared fights
Are fpectacled to fee him. Your prattling nurse
nto a rapture lets her baby cry,
While the chats him: the kitchen malkin pins
Her richeft lockram 'bout her reechy neek,
Clamb'ring the walls to eye him: ftalls, bulks,
windows,
Are fimother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges hors'd
With variable complexions; all agreeing
la carneftnefs to fee him: feld-fhown flamens
Do prefs among the popular throngs, and puff
To win a vulgar station: our veil'd dames
Commit the war of white and damafk, in
Their nicely-gawded cheeks, to th' wanton fpoil
Of Phoebus' burning kiffes: fuch a pother,
As if that whatfoever god, who leads him,
Were flily crept into his human powers,
And gave him graceful posture.
Cominius' Speech in the Senate.
I fhall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus
Should not be utter'd feebly. It is held
That valour is the chicfeft virtue, and
Moft dignifics the haver: if it be,
The man I fpeak of cannot in the world
Be fingly counterpois'd. At fixteen years,
When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought
Bevond the mark of others; our then dictator,
Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight,
When with his Amazonian chin he drove
The briftled lips before him: he bestrid
An o'er-preft Roman, and i' the confuls view
Slew three oppofers: Tarquin's felf he met,
And struck him on his knee: in that day's feats,
When he might act the woman in the fcene,
He prov'd beft man i' the field, and for his meed
Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil-age
Man-enter'd thus, he waxed like a fea;
And, in the brunt of feventeen battles fince,
He lurch'd all fwords o' the garland. For this laft,
Before, and in Corioli, let me fay,
I cannot speak him home: he flopp'd the flyers;
And, by his rare example, made the coward
Turn terror into fport: As weeds before
A veffel under fail, fo men obey'd, [ftamp)
And fell below his ftem: his fword (death's
Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot
He was a thing of blood, whofe every motion
Was tim'd with dying cries: alone he enter'd
The mortal gate o' the city, which he pointed
With fhunlefs deftiny; aidlefs came off, -
And with a fudden reinforcement ftruck
Corioli, like a planet. Now all's his :
When by and by the din of war 'gan pierce
His ready fenfe, then ftraight his doubled fpirit
Requicken'd what in flesh was fatigate,
And to the battle came he; where he did
Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if
Twere a perpetual spoil: and till we cali'd
Both field and city ours, he never stood
To cafe his breaft with panting.
The Mifcbief of Anarchy.
My foul aches,
To know, when two authorities are up,
May enter 'twixt the gap of both, and take
Neither fupreme, how foon confufion
The one by the other.
Character of Coriolanus.
His nature is too noble for this world:
He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,
Or Jove for his power to thunder. His heart's his
mouth :
What his breaft forges, that his tongue muft vent;
And, being angry, does forget that ever
He heard the name of death.
I've heard you fay,
Honour and policy, like unfever'd friends,
I' the war do grow together: grant that, and
tell me
In peace, what each of them by th' other lofe,
That they combine not there?
The Method to gain Popular Favour.
Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand;
And thus far having stretch'd it, (here be with
them)
Thy knee buffing the ftones (for in fuch bufinefs
Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant
More learned than the cars), waving thy head,
Which often, thus, correcting thy ftout heart,
Now humble, as the ripeft mulberry,
That will not hold the handling: or, fay to them,
Thou art their foldier, and, being bred in broils,
Haft not the foft way, which, thou doft confefs,
Were fit for thee to ufe, as they to claim,
In afking their good loves; but thou wilt frame
Thyfelf, forfooth, hereafter theirs, fo far
As thou haft power, and perfon.
Coriolanus bis Abborrence of Flattery.
Well, I must do 't:
Away, my difpofition, and poffefs me
Some harlot's fpirit! my throat of war be turn'd,
Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice
Which quired with my drum, into a pipe,
That babies lulls afleep! the fmiles of knaves
Tent in my checks; and fchool-boys tears take up
The glaffes of my fight! a beggar's tongue
Make motion thro' my lips; and my arm'd knees,
Who bow'd but in my ftirrup, bend like his
That hath receiv'd an alms!-I will not do 't-
Left I furceafe to honour my own truth,
And, by my body's action, teach my mind'
A most inherent baseness.
His Mother's Refolution on his flubborn Pride.
At thy choice then:
To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour
Than thou of them. Come all to ruin; let
Thy mother rather feel.thy pride, than fear
Thy dang'rous ftoutnefs; for I mock at death
With as big heart as thou. Do as thou lift.
Thy valiantnefs was mine, thou fuck dft it from mes
But own thy pride thyfelf.
His Deteftation of the Vulgar.
You coinmon cry of curs! whose breath I hate, As reek o' th' rotten fens; whofe loves I prize, As the dead carcafes 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 defpair! have the power still
To banish your defenders: till at length
Your ignorance (which finds not, till it feels),
Making not refervation of yourfelves
(Still your own foes), deliver you, as most
Abated captives, to fome nation
That won you without blows!
Precepts against Ill-fortune.
-You were us'd
To fay, extremities were the triers of fpirits; That common chances common men could bear; That, when the fea was calm, all boats alike Shew'd mafterfhip in floating. Fortune's blows, When most struck home, being gentle wounded,
A noble cunning. You were us'd to load me
With precepts, that would make invincible
The heart that conn'd them.
On common Friendships.
O, world, thy flippery turns! Friends now fast fworn,
Whofe double bofoms feem to wear one heart,
Whofe hours, whofe bed, whofe meal, and exercife
Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love,
Unfeparable, fhall within this hour,
On a diffenfion of a doit, break out
To bittereft enmity. So, felleft foes,
Whofe paffions and whofe plots have broke their
fleep
To take the one the other, by fome chance,
Some trick, not worth an egg, fhall grow dear
friends,
And interjoin their iffues.
Martial Friendship.
--Let me twine
Mine arms about that body, where against
My grained afh an hundred times hath broke,
And fcarr'd the moon with splinters! here I clip
The anvil of my fword; and do conteft
As hotly and as nobly with thy love,
As ever, in ambitious ftrength, I did
Contend against thy valour. Know thou, first,
I lov'd the maid I married; never man
Sigh'd truer breath; but that I fee thee here,
Thou noble thing I more dances my rapt heart,
Than when L firft my wedded miftrefs faw
Beftride my threshold. Why,thouMars! I tell thee,
We have a power on foot; and I had purpose
Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn,
Or lose my arm for 't: thou hast beat me out
Twelve feveral times, and I have nightly fince
Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyfelf and me;
We have been down together in my fleep,
Unbuckling helms, fifting each other's throat,
And wak'd half-dead with nothing.
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My wife comes foremoft; then the honcurd mould Wherein this trunk was fram'd, and in her hart The grand-child to her blood-But, out, affection All bond and privilege of nature, break! Let it be virtuous, to be obstinate.— What is that curt fie worth? or those dove's eye Which can make gods fcrfworn? I melt, andamut Of ftronger earth than others;-my mother boy As if Olympus to a mole-hill fhould In fupplication nod: and my young boy Hath an afpect of interceffion, which Great nature cries, Deny not. Let the Voices Plough Rome, and harrow Italy; I'll never Be fuch a golling to obey inftinet; but ftand, As if a man were author of himself, And knew no other kin.
Like a dull actor now, I have forgot my part, and I am out, Even to fuil difgrace. Beft of my flesh, Forgive my tyranny; but do not fay, For that, forgive our Romans.-O, a kiss, Long as my exile, fweet as my revenge! Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kifs
carried from thee, dear; and my true lip Hath virgin'd it c'er fince.-You gods! I pratt, And the moft noble mother of the world Leave unfaluted: fink, my knee, i' th' earth; Of thy deep duty more impreffion shew Than that of cominon fons.
Thine enmity's moft capital: thou barr'ft us
Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort
That all but we enjoy.
An evident calamity, though we had
To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whofe touch,
Whofe every touch would force the feeler's foul
To the oath of loyalty; this object, which
Takes prifoner the wild motion of mine eye,'
Our wish which fide fhould win: for either thou Fixing it only here: fhould I (damn'd then)
Muft, as a foreign recreant, be led
With manacles along our streets; or elfe
Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin;
And bear the palm, for having bravely fhed
Thy wife and children's blood. For myfeif, fon,
I purpose not to wait on fortune, till
Thefe wars determine: if I cannot perfuade thee,
Rather to fhew a noble grace to both parts,
Than feek the end of one, thou shalt no fooner
March to affault thy country, than to tread
(Truft to't, thou shalt not) on thy mother's womb,
That brought thee to this world.
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Slaver with lips as common as the stairs
That mount the capitol, join gripes with hands
Made hard with hourly falfehood (as
With labour), then lie peeping in an eye,
Bafe and unluftrous as the fmoaky light
That's fed with ftinking tallow: it were fit,
That all the plagues of hell fhould at one time
Encounter fuch revolt.
Imogen's Bedchamber; in one Part of it a large
Trunk.
Imogen is difcovered reading.
Imo.
-Mine eyes are weak:
Fold down the leaf where I have left: to bed:
Take not away the taper, leave it burning;
And if thou canit awake by four o' th' clock,
I pr'ythee, call me.-Sleep hath feiz'd me wholly.
[Exit Lady.
To your protection I commend me, gods!
From fairies, and the tempters of the night,
Guard me befeech ye!
[Lachimo rifes from the Trunk. Iach. The crickets fing, and man's o'erlabour'd fenfe
Repairs itself by reft: our Tarquin thus
Did foftly prefs the ruthes, ere he waken'd
The chastity he wounded.-Cytherea,
How bravely thou becom'ft thy bed! fresh lily!'
And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!
But kifs; one kifs!-Rubies unparagon d,
How dearly they do 't!-'Tis her breathing that
Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o' the taper
Bows toward her; and would under-peep her lids,
To fee th' inciofed lights, now canopied
To look upon him; till the diminution
Of space had pointed him as sharp as my needle:
Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from
Under thefe windows: white and azure, lac'd;
The fmallness of a gnat, to air; and then With blue of heaven's own tinet-but my defign?
Have turn'd mine eye and wept. But, good Pifa-To note the chamber:-I will write all down:--
When thall we hear from him?
Pif. Be affur'd, madam,
With his next vantage.
Such, and fuch, pictures; there the window: fuch
Th' adornment of her bed;-the arras, figures,
Imo. I did not take my leave of him, but hadWhy, fuch, and fuch:-and the contents o' the
Moft pretty things to fay: ere I could tell him,
How I would think of him, at certain hours,
Such thoughts, and fuch; or I could make him fwear,
The thes of Italy fhould not betray
Mine intereft, and his honour; or have charg'd
At the fixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight,
To encounter me with orifons, for then
I am in heaven for him ; or ere I could
Give him that parting kifs, which I had fet
Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father,
And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north,
Shakes all our buds from growing.
The Bafenefs of Falsehood to a Wife.
Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more
Than to be fure they do: for certainties
Either are paft remedies; or, timely knowing,
The remedy then born, difcover to me
What both you fpur and stop.
Ah, but fome natural notes about her body,
Above ten thoufand meaner moveables
Would teftify, t'enrich mine inventory:
O fleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!
And be her fenfe but as a monument,
Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off;
[Taking off her Bracelet.
As flippery, as the Gordian knot was hard!
'Tis mine; and this will witnefs outwardly,
As ftrongly as the confcience does within,
To the madding of her lord. On her left breaft
A mole cinque-ipotted, like the crimson drops
I' the bottom of a cowflip: Here's a voucher,
Stronger than ever law could make: this fecret
Will force him think I have pick'd the lock and
ta'en
[end?
The treasure of her honour. No more.-To what
Why fhould I write this down, that's rivetted,
Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading lare
The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down, | How may we fteal from hence; and, for the ap
Where Philomel gave up;-I have enough:
To the trunk again, and fhut the spring of it.
Swift, fwift, you dragons of the night! that dawn-
May bare the raven's eye: I lodge in fear; [ing
Tho' this a heavenly angel, hell is here.
[He goes into the Trunk; the Scene clofes.
Is there no way for men to be, but women Muft be half-workers? We are all baftards; And that moft venerable man, which I Did call my father, was I know not where When I was stamp'd; fome coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit: yet my mother feem'd The Dian o' that time: fo doth my wife The nonpareil of this.-O, vengeance, vengeance! Me of my lawful pleafure the reftrain'd, And pray'd me, oft, forbearance; did it with A pudency fo rofy, the fweet view on't Might well have warm'd old Saturn;—that I thought her
As chafte as unfunn'd fnow.
Could I find out
The woman's part in me!--for there's no motion
That tends to vice in man, but I affirm
It is the woman's part: be it lying, note it,
The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
Luft, and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges hers;
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, difdain,
Nice-longings, flanders, mutability;
All faults that name,nay,that hell knows,why,hers,
In part, or all; but, rather, all: for even to vice
They are not conftant, but are changing ftill;
One vice, but of a minute old, for one
Not half fo old as that. I'll write against them,
Dereft them, curfe them :-yet 'tis greater skill
In a true hate, to pray they have their will:
The very devils cannot plague them better.
A Wife's Impatience to meet her Hußband.
O, for a horfe with wings!-Hear'ft thou,
Pifanio?
He is at Milford-Haven: read, and tell me
How for 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs
May plod it in week, why may not I
Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pifanio,
That we shall make in time, from our hence-going,
And our return, t'excufe: but first, how get herce!
Why fhould excute be born, or e'er begot
We'll talk of that hereafter. Prythee, speak,
How many core of miles may we well ride
"Twixt hour and hour?
Pif. One fcore 'twixt fun and fun,
Madam, 's enough for you; and too much too.
Imo. Why, one that rode to his execution, man, Could never go fo flow: I have heard of riding Where holes have been nimbler than the fands That run i' the clock's behalf. But this is foolery: Go, bid my woman feign a sickness; say, She'll home t'her father: and provide me prefenty A riding fuit; no coftlier than would fit A franklin's housewife.
Pif. Madam, you're beft confider.
Imo. I fee before me, man, nɔ- here, nor here, Nor what enfues; but have a fog in them, That I cannot look thro'. Away, I pr'ythee; Do as I bid thee: there's no more to fay; Acceffible is none but Milford way.
A Foreft, with a Cave, in Wales. Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. Bel. A goodly day not to keep houfe, with fuch Whofe roof's as low as ours. Stoop, boys: this gate Inftructs you how t'adore the heavens; and bows
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When
you above perceive me like a crow,
That it is place which leffens, and fets off.
Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war:
And you may then revolve what tales I've told you,
This fervice is not fervice, so being done,
But being fo allow'd: To apprehend thus,
Draws us a profit from all things we fee:
And often, to our comfort, fhall we find
The fharded beetle in a fafer hold
Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life
Is nobler, than attending for a check;
Richer, than doing nothing for a babe;
Prouder, than rufiling in unpaid-for filk:
Such gain the cap of him that makes them fine,
(Who long'ft, like me, to fee thy lord; wholong'ft-Yet keeps his book uncrofs'd: no life to ours.
O, let me bate-but not like me :- -yet long'ft
But in a fainter kind:-O, not like me;
For mine's beyond, beyond)-fay, and fpeak thick,
(Love's counsellor fhould fill the bores of hearing
To the fmothering of the fenfe)-how far it is
To this fame bleffed Milford: And, by th' way,
Tell me how Wales was made fo happy, as
T' inherit fuch a haven: But, first of all,
Guid. Out of your proof you fpeak; we, poor,
unfledg'd, [know not Have never wing'd from view of the neft; nor What air's from home. Haply, this life is belt, If quiet life be beft; fweeter to you, That have a fharper known; well correfponding With your stiff age: but, unto us, it is A cell of ignorance; travelling a-bed;
A prifon for a debtor, that not dares
To ftride a limit.
Arv. What fhould we speak of
When we are as old as you? when we fhall hear
The rain and wind beat dark December, how,
In this our pinching cave, fhall we difcourfe
The freezing hours away? We have feen nothing:
We are beaftly; fubtle as the fox, for prey:
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we cat:
Our valour is, to chafe what flies; our cage
We make a quire, as doth the prifon'd bird,
And fing our bondage freely.
Be!. How you speak!
Did you but know the city's ufuries,
And felt them knowingly: the art o' the court,
As hard to leave, as keep; whofe top to climb
Is certain falling, or so slipp'ry, that
The fear's as bad as falling: The toil of the war,
A pain that only feems to feck out danger
I' the name of faine, and honour; which dies i' the
And hath as oft a fland'rous epitaph, [fearch;
As record of fair act; nay, many times
Doth ill deferve, by doing well, what's worfe,
Muft curt'fie at the cenfure: O, boys, this story
The world may read in me: my body's mark'd
With Roman fwords; and my report was once
First with the beft of note: Cymbeline lov'd me,
And when a foldier was the theme, my name
Was not far off: then was I as a trec [night,
Whofe boughs did bend with fruit: but, in one
A ftorm, or robbery, call it what you will,
Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,
And left me bare to weather.
Guid. Uncertain favour!
[you oft) Bel. My fault being nothing (as I have told But that two villains, whofe falle oaths prevail'd Before my perfect honour, fwore to Cymbeline,
I was confederate with the Romans: fo
Follow'd my banishment; and, this twenty years,
This rock, and thefe demefnes, have been my
world:
Where I have liv'd at honeft freedom; paid
More pious debes to Heaven, thin in all
The fore-end of my time.-But, up to th' moun-
tains;
This is not hunters language: he that strikes
The venifon firft, fhall be the lord o' th' feaft;"
To him the other two thall minifter;
And we will fear no poifon, which attends
In place of greater state.
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To break it with a fearful dream of him,
And cry myself awake? That's falfe to's bed?
Woman in Man's Drefs.
You must forget to be a woman; change
Command into obedience; fear and nicenefs,
(The handmaids of all women, or more truly
Woman its pretty felf), into a waggish courage,
As quarrellous as the weaze!: nay, you must
Ready in gibes, quick-anfwered, faucy, and
Forget that rareft treasure of your cheek,
Expofing it (but O, the harder heart!
Alack, no remedy!) to the greedy touch
Your labourfome and dainty trims, wherein
Of common kiffing Titan; and forget
You made great Juno angry.
Enter Imogen in Boy's Clothes. Imo. I fee, a man's life is a tedious one: I've tir'd myfelf; and for two nights together Have made the ground my bed. I fhould be fick, But that my refolution helps me.-Milford, When from the mountain-top Pifanio fhew'd thee, Thou waft within a ken. O, Jove! I think, Foundations fly the wretched: fuch, I mean, Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars
I could not mifs my way: will poor folks lye
That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis
A punifliment, or trial? Yes: no wonder,
When rich ones fcarce tell true. To lapfein fulness
Is forer than to lye for need; and fall hood
Is worse in kings than beggars.-My dear lord!
Thou art one o' the falfe ones: now I think on thee,
My hunger's gone; but even before, I was
At point to fink for food.-But what is this?
[Seeing the Cave.
Here is a path to it 'tis fome favage hold;
I were beft not call; I dare not call: yet famine,
Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant.
Plenty, and peace, breed cowards; hardness ever
Of hardiness is mother.
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