Come, come. They are almost here. How many stand for consulships?
Come on. They'll be here any moment. How many candidates are running for consul?
Come on, they're almost here. How many people are running for consul?
they're coming how many for consul
Three, they say; but ’tis thought of everyone Coriolanus will carry it.
Three, they say—but everyone thinks Coriolanus will win it.
Three guys running. But everyone knows Coriolanus is gonna win.
three candidates everyone thinks coriolanus wins
That’s a brave fellow, but he’s vengeance proud and loves not the
common people.
He's an impressive man, but he's intensely proud and doesn't care for the common people.
He's a great guy, but he's way too proud and doesn't like ordinary people.
he's impressive but too proud doesn't like people
’Faith, there have been many great men that have flattered the people
who ne’er loved them; and there be many that they have loved they know
not wherefore; so that, if they love they know not why, they hate upon
no better a ground. Therefore, for Coriolanus neither to care whether
they love or hate him manifests the true knowledge he has in their
disposition and, out of his noble carelessness, lets them plainly
see’t.
Well, many great men have flattered the people while never actually loving them. And there are people the crowd has loved without knowing why. Since they love without reason, they hate without reason too. So when Coriolanus doesn't care whether they love or hate him, that actually shows he understands them—and his noble indifference makes it perfectly clear.
Look, lots of great men fake it with the people and never actually like them. And the people have loved people they can't even explain why they like. If they love for no reason, they hate for no reason. So when Coriolanus doesn't care if they love or hate him, that shows he gets them. His not trying proves he understands.
many great men fake love them people love without reason so they hate without reason when coriolanus doesn't care that shows he understands them
If he did not care whether he had their love or no, he waved
indifferently ’twixt doing them neither good nor harm; but he seeks
their hate with greater devotion than they can render it him and leaves
nothing undone that may fully discover him their opposite. Now, to seem
to affect the malice and displeasure of the people is as bad as that
which he dislikes, to flatter them for their love.
If he truly didn't care, he'd stay neutral—do nothing good or bad to them. But he actively seeks their hatred with more passion than they can express it, and he does everything possible to make himself their enemy. To simply seem indifferent to their anger is just as bad as what he criticizes—flattering them for their love.
If he didn't care, he'd just stay out of it—not help, not hurt. But he hunts for their hate harder than they can give it, and he does everything to prove he's their opposite. Acting indifferent to their anger is just as fake as the flattery he hates.
he doesn't just not care he actively seeks their hate does everything to be their enemy that's as fake as flattery
He hath deserved worthily of his country, and his ascent is not by such
easy degrees as those who, having been supple and courteous to the
people, bonnetted, without any further deed to have them at all into
their estimation and report; but he hath so planted his honours in
their eyes and his actions in their hearts that for their tongues to be
silent and not confess so much were a kind of ingrateful injury. To
report otherwise were a malice that, giving itself the lie, would pluck
reproof and rebuke from every ear that heard it.
But he's earned genuine honor for his country. He didn't reach this position the easy way—by being polite and flexing in front of the people without actually doing anything. He's planted his honors so deep in their eyes and his deeds so deep in their hearts that for them to stay silent would be a betrayal. To say anything else would be a lie that would provoke criticism from everyone who heard it.
He's earned real honor for Rome though. He didn't get here the easy way—by being fake and nice to the mob with nothing to show for it. He's so deep in their minds and his deeds are so real to them that staying quiet would be wrong. Saying anything else would be a lie that everyone would call out.
he earned real honor not the easy way he's in their eyes and hearts to deny it would be a lie
No more of him; he’s a worthy man. Make way. They are coming.
A sennet. Enter the Patricians and the Tribunes of the people, Lictors
before them; Coriolanus, Menenius, Cominius the consul. The Patricians
sit. Sicinius and Brutus take their places by themselves. Coriolanus
stands.
Enough about him. He's a worthy man. Make room. They're coming. [A fanfare sounds. Enter the senators and tribunes, with guards leading. Coriolanus enters with Menenius and Cominius the consul. The senators take their seats. Sicinius and Brutus position themselves separately. Coriolanus remains standing.]
OK, that's enough. He's a good man. Clear the way. Here they come. [Fanfare. Senators and tribunes enter with guards. Coriolanus comes in with Menenius and the consul Cominius. Senators sit. Sicinius and Brutus stand apart. Coriolanus stays standing.]
he's worthy they're coming [fanfare]
Having determined of the Volsces and
To send for Titus Lartius, it remains,
As the main point of this our after-meeting,
To gratify his noble service that
Hath thus stood for his country. Therefore please you,
Most reverend and grave elders, to desire
The present consul and last general
In our well-found successes to report
A little of that worthy work performed
By Martius Caius Coriolanus, whom
We met here both to thank and to remember
With honours like himself.
Now that we've settled the Volscian question and sent for Titus Lartius, we gather here mainly to honor his noble service to our country. So I ask you, most respected and dignified senators, to request that our current consul and former general report to us on the worthy deeds done by Martius Caius Coriolanus—whom we're here both to thank and to honor as he deserves.
We've dealt with the Volscians and sent for Lartius. Now the main thing is to honor his service. So I'm asking you, respected senators, to get the consul—who was the general before—to tell us about the great work done by Martius Caius Coriolanus. We're here to thank him and give him the honor he's earned.
we've settled volscians now we honor his service let consul speak about coriolanus's deeds
Speak, good Cominius.
Leave nothing out for length, and make us think
Rather our state’s defective for requital,
Than we to stretch it out. Masters o’ th’ people,
We do request your kindest ears and, after,
Your loving motion toward the common body
To yield what passes here.
Go ahead, Cominius, and speak. Leave nothing out for the sake of brevity—make us think our state is inadequate in repayment rather than you're stretching the truth. And to the people's representatives, we ask that your ears be kind to what he says, and afterward, that you carry his message to the common people with goodwill.
Speak up, Cominius. Don't leave anything out—make us think Rome isn't doing enough to repay him, not that you're exaggerating. And tribunes, listen well, then carry the word to the people the right way.
cominius speak don't hold back make us think we owe him more tribunes listen then tell the people
We are convented
Upon a pleasing treaty and have hearts
Inclinable to honour and advance
The theme of our assembly.
We've come together in a pleasant spirit and we're well-disposed to honor and advance what we're gathered to discuss.
We're here in good spirits and ready to honor what this is all about.
we're here to honor what we're discussing
Which the rather
We shall be blest to do if he remember
A kinder value of the people than
He hath hereto prized them at.
Which we'll be blessed to do, provided he remembers to value the people more highly than he's valued them up to now.
As long as he can show he actually values the people more than he has before.
if he values people more than he has
That’s off, that’s off!
I would you rather had been silent. Please you
To hear Cominius speak?
Stop that. I wish you'd kept that to yourself. Would you be willing to hear Cominius speak?
Don't go there. I wish you hadn't said that. You willing to listen to Cominius?
stop shouldn't have said that let's hear cominius
Most willingly.
But yet my caution was more pertinent
Than the rebuke you give it.
With pleasure. Though my warning was more relevant than your criticism.
Sure. But my point was more fair than your rebuke.
i'll listen but my warning was valid
He loves your people,
But tie him not to be their bedfellow.—
Worthy Cominius, speak.
He loves your people—but don't demand he share their bed. Worthy Cominius, speak.
He loves the people—just don't expect him to live with them. Go ahead, Cominius.
he loves people don't make him live with them speak cominius
The opening of 2-2 presents the fundamental disagreement about Coriolanus: one officer sees his indifference to the people's love as noble detachment and true understanding of their nature; the other sees it as arrogance that actively seeks their hatred. What makes this debate so effective is that both interpretations are true. Coriolanus does understand the people's inconstancy — but his understanding manifests as contempt, not wisdom. The play refuses to let us choose between these readings. He is simultaneously the most clear-eyed analyst of popular government and its most dangerous contemner. This ambiguity is what makes him a tragic figure rather than a simple villain.
Sit, Coriolanus. Never shame to hear
What you have nobly done.
Sit down, Coriolanus. There's no shame in hearing about the noble things you've done.
Sit, Coriolanus. There's nothing shameful about hearing what you did.
sit coriolanus no shame hearing your deeds
Your Honours, pardon.
I had rather have my wounds to heal again
Than hear say how I got them.
Sirs, forgive me. I'd rather have my wounds still healing than hear someone describe how I got them.
Please forgive me. I'd rather my wounds still be hurting than have to listen to this.
forgive me i'd rather have wounds healing than hear about them
Sir, I hope
My words disbenched you not?
Sir, I hope my words didn't upset you?
Sir, I hope I didn't offend you?
hope i didn't offend you
No, sir. Yet oft,
When blows have made me stay, I fled from words.
You soothed not, therefore hurt not; but your people,
I love them as they weigh.
No, sir. But often, when wounds have stopped me from fighting, I've run from words. You didn't flatter me, so you didn't hurt me—but the people themselves, I value them exactly as they deserve.
No, sir. But yeah, when I'm too hurt to fight, I usually avoid talk. You didn't flatter me, so you didn't bother me. The people though? I value them for what they're worth.
no sir when wounds stop me i flee words people i value at their worth
Pray now, sit down.
Please, sit down now.
Please, sit.
sit please
I had rather have one scratch my head i’ th’ sun
When the alarum were struck than idly sit
To hear my nothings monstered.
I'd rather be bleeding in the sun at the alarm of battle than sit here idly and hear people exaggerate my nothing into something.
I'd rather be scratched and bleeding in the sun when battle's called than sit here and listen to them turn nothing into something.
rather be wounded in battle than hear them exaggerate nothing
Masters of the people,
Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter—
That’s thousand to one good one—when you now see
He had rather venture all his limbs for honour
Than one on’s ears to hear it?—Proceed, Cominius.
People of Rome, how could he flatter your endless numbers—especially since you can see here that he'd rather risk all his limbs for honor than bend one ear to hear himself praised? Proceed, Cominius.
People of Rome, how could he flatter so many of you—when you can literally see he'd rather lose his arms in battle than listen to one compliment? Go ahead, Cominius.
how could he flatter you when he'd rather die than hear praise
I shall lack voice. The deeds of Coriolanus
Should not be uttered feebly. It is held
That valour is the chiefest virtue and
Most dignifies the haver; if it be,
The man I speak of cannot in the world
Be singly counterpoised. At sixteen years,
When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought
Beyond 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 bristled lips before him. He bestrid
An o’erpressed Roman and i’ th’ Consul’s view
Slew three opposers. Tarquin’s self he met
And struck him on his knee. In that day’s feats,
When he might act the woman in the scene,
He proved best man i’ th’ field and for his meed
Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age
Man-entered thus, he waxed like a sea,
And in the brunt of seventeen battles since
He lurched all swords of the garland. For this last,
Before and in Corioles, let me say,
I cannot speak him home. He stopped the flyers
And by his rare example made the coward
Turn terror into sport. As weeds before
A vessel under sail, so men obeyed
And fell below his stem. His sword, Death’s stamp,
Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot
He was a thing of blood, whose every motion
Was timed with dying cries. Alone he entered
The mortal gate o’ th’ city, which he painted
With shunless destiny; aidless came off
And with a sudden reinforcement struck
Corioles like a planet. Now all’s his,
When by and by the din of war gan pierce
His ready sense; then straight his doubled spirit
Requickened 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 called
Both field and city ours, he never stood
To ease his breast with panting.
My voice may fail me. The deeds of Coriolanus demand to be spoken of powerfully. It is held that courage is the highest virtue and most ennobles the one who possesses it. If that is true, then the man I speak of has no equal in the world. At sixteen, when Tarquin raised an army against Rome, he fought beyond all others. Our then-dictator—whom I point to with full praise—saw him fight, his young beard smooth like an Amazon's, driving the enemy bristled faces before him. He protected a fallen Roman, and before the consul's eyes, killed three opponents. He met Tarquin himself and struck him down. Even when he could have acted like a woman in the fight, he proved himself the best man on the field. For this courage, he was crowned with the oak wreath. From that young beginning, he grew like the sea, and in seventeen battles since, he's surpassed all others. This last victory—before and at Corioles—I cannot describe fully. He stopped the fleers and by his example turned cowardice into courage. Men fell before him like weeds before a ship's bow. His sword was Death itself—wherever it touched, it took life. From face to foot, he was blood, every movement timed with dying men's cries. Alone he entered the city gates, painting them with inevitable fate. Without help he escaped, then with sudden reinforcement struck Corioles like a planet. Now all is his. When the battle's noise reached his ready ear, his doubled spirit revived what flesh had worn out, and he returned to battle, running over the lives of men as if it were endless spoil. Until we claimed both field and city, he never stopped to catch his breath.
I might run out of words. Coriolanus's deeds demand powerful speech. The saying goes that courage is the highest virtue and it's what makes someone great. If that's true, this man has no rival. At sixteen, when Tarquin attacked Rome, he fought better than everyone. Our dictator—and I say this with full praise—saw him fight with a young smooth face like a warrior woman, driving the enemy back. He saved a fallen Roman, killed three enemies in front of the consul. He fought Tarquin himself and beat him. He was the best soldier on the field that day, and they crowned him with oak. After that, he grew like the ocean, and in seventeen battles since, he's beaten everyone. At Corioles—I can't even describe it properly. He stopped the runners, made cowards brave by just showing up. Men fell like weeds in front of a ship. His sword was like Death—it took what it touched. He was covered in blood, every move matched with dying men. Alone he went through the city gates, marked them with fate. Got out alone, came back with reinforcements, hit the city like a meteor. After that, everything was his. When the battle sounds reached him, his spirit doubled in strength, pushing through exhaustion, and he went back at it, running over dead bodies like it was an endless hunt. Until we owned the whole city, he never even sat down to breathe.
at sixteen best soldier met tarquin beat him matured like ocean surpassed all in battles at corioles unstoppable blood everywhere always moving killing never stopped for breath
Worthy man!
What a worthy man!
What a man!
worthy man
He cannot but with measure fit the honours
Which we devise him.
No honor we could devise for him would be inadequate to his deeds.
Whatever honor we give him, it's not enough.
no honor big enough for him
Our spoils he kicked at;
And looked upon things precious as they were
The common muck of the world. He covets less
Than misery itself would give, rewards
His deeds with doing them, and is content
To spend the time to end it.
He turned away from the spoils of war, looking at precious things as if they were common dirt. He wants less than poverty itself would give, rewards his deeds by doing them, and is content just to finish them.
He didn't care about the plunder, treated treasures like garbage. He wants less than nothing, and his reward is doing the deed. He's happy when it's done.
ignored plunder treasures are garbage to him reward is the deed itself
He’s right noble.
Let him be called for.
He's truly noble. Have him called in.
He's truly noble. Get him.
he's noble call him
Call Coriolanus.
Call Coriolanus.
Call Coriolanus.
call coriolanus
Scene 2-2 establishes the precise mechanism of Coriolanus's downfall. Rome has a ritual — the consul-designate petitions the people for their voices, displays his wounds, performs humility. For most men, this is a formality, a performance. For Coriolanus, it requires him to lie about his nature. He cannot perform what he doesn't feel. He cannot display his wounds as badges of pride. He cannot ask for approval he doesn't want. What the tribunes understand — and what makes them brilliant strategists — is that his refusal of performance is itself a performance: a performance of contempt. By trying to stay true to himself, he broadcasts his disdain for the people and the ritual equally. The play's deepest irony: his authenticity becomes his undoing.
He doth appear.
He's here.
He's here.
he's here
The Senate, Coriolanus, are well pleased
To make thee consul.
Coriolanus, the Senate is pleased to name you consul.
Coriolanus, the Senate wants you to be consul.
senate makes you consul
I do owe them still
My life and services.
I still owe them my life and service.
I'm still indebted to them with my life and work.
i owe them my life
It then remains
That you do speak to the people.
Then one thing remains—you must address the people.
Then you have one more thing—you need to speak to the people.
you must address the people
I do beseech you
Let me o’erleap that custom, for I cannot
Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them
For my wounds’ sake to give their suffrage. Please you
That I may pass this doing.
I beg you, let me skip this custom. I cannot put on a robe, stand naked before them, and ask for their votes because of my wounds. Please, allow me to forgo this.
Please, don't make me do this. I can't strip half-naked in front of them and beg for their votes based on my scars. Let me skip it.
no please i can't stand naked and beg for votes for my wounds
Sir, the people
Must have their voices; neither will they bate
One jot of ceremony.
Sir, the people must have their voice in this. They won't give up even one part of the ceremony.
Sir, the people need to vote. They won't drop any of the ritual.
people must vote they won't skip ceremony
Put them not to’t.
Pray you, go fit you to the custom, and
Take to you, as your predecessors have,
Your honour with your form.
Don't press them on this. Go and dress in the customary way. As your predecessors have done, you'll honor yourself by following the form.
Don't push it. Go get dressed like you're supposed to, and do what all the other consuls did. The ceremony is part of the honor.
don't push dress like custom other consuls did it ceremony is part of it
It is a part
That I shall blush in acting, and might well
Be taken from the people.
It's a part of the role I'll be ashamed to perform, and it might well be taken from me.
I'm gonna feel sick doing it, and it could actually cost me the position.
i'll be ashamed it could cost me the job
Mark you that?
Did you all catch that?
You hear that?
did you catch that
To brag unto them, “thus I did, and thus!”
Show them th’ unaching scars which I should hide,
As if I had received them for the hire
Of their breath only!
To brag to them—'I did this, and I did that!'—and show them the scars I should hide, as if I received them only to have them praise my breathing?
To stand there bragging—'I did this, I did that!'—showing scars I should keep hidden, like I got them just to hear them say nice things about me?
brag i did this show scars like i got them for applause
Do not stand upon’t.—
We recommend to you, tribunes of the people,
Our purpose to them, and to our noble consul
Wish we all joy and honour.
Don't make an issue of it. We now report to you tribunes our decision regarding the people. To our noble new consul, we wish all joy and honor.
Don't worry about it. Tribunes, we're telling the people our decision. Consul, we wish you all the best.
don't worry about it consul we wish you joy
To Coriolanus come all joy and honour!
To Coriolanus, may all joy and honor come!
All joy and honor to Coriolanus!
joy and honor to coriolanus
You see how he intends to use the people.
You see how he intends to treat the people.
You see what he thinks of the people.
see how he'll treat people
May they perceive’s intent! He will require them
As if he did contemn what he requested
Should be in them to give.
I hope they recognize his intention! He'll treat them as if he despises what he's asking them to give him.
If they get it, they're done for. He's gonna ask them for their votes while treating them like trash for having them.
he'll ask for votes while hating them for having them
Come, we’ll inform them
Of our proceedings here. On th’ marketplace
I know they do attend us.
Come, we'll tell them what we decided here. I know they're waiting for us in the marketplace.
Let's go tell the people what happened. They're waiting in the square.
let's tell people they're in marketplace
The Reckoning
Scene 2-2 is the first clear signal that Coriolanus will not be consul on Rome's terms. He will not sit for praise, he will not show his wounds, he will not perform humility. The officers debating whether his refusal of flattery is honourable or dangerous frame the central tension: is he noble for not caring what the people think, or dangerously arrogant? The scene ends with him agreeing, in principle, to follow custom — but everyone who knows him already understands he won't.
If this happened today…
A war hero is nominated for a public position that traditionally requires a photo op tour, a speech at a rally, maybe some hand-shaking at a town hall. The selection committee praises him; he gets up and walks out. Later, they tell him it's not optional — he has to do the campaign events. He agrees, but you can see it's already going wrong. He's going to show up. He's going to hate it. And something will snap.