We will before the walls of Rome tomorrow Set down our host. My partner in this action, You must report to th’ Volscian lords how plainly I have borne this business.

We will before the walls of Rome tomorrow Set down our host. My partner in this action, You must report to th’ Volscian lords how plainly I have borne this business.

we will before the walls of rome tomorrow set down our host.

Only their ends You have respected, stopped your ears against The general suit of Rome; never admitted A private whisper, no, not with such friends That thought them sure of you.

Only their ends You have respected, stopped your ears against The general suit of Rome; never admitted A private whisper, no, not with such friends That thought them sure of you.

only their ends you have respected, stopped your ears agains

This old man I sent to Rome with a cracked heart—he loved me more than a father should, treated me like a god. Their last hope was sending him. Because of his old love for me, I offered them once more the first terms I gave them, even though he was angry with me. They refused and now can't accept them. I bent only to honor him, who thought he could do more. I've given very little. No more embassies or letters—not from the state, not from private friends. I won't listen anymore.

This old guy I sent to Rome with a broken heart—he loved me like I was a god. They sent him as their last shot. I gave them the same deal one more time because of him, even though he was mad at me. They said no and can't get it back. I only bent because he thought he could do something. I've given enough. No more messengers coming to me—not from Rome, not from my friends. I'm done listening.

old man loved me like a god their last hope i offered same terms they refused i'm done listening

My lord and husband.

My lord and husband.

my lord and husband.

These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome.

These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome.

these eyes are not the same i wore in rome.

The sorrow that delivers us thus changed Makes you think so.

The sorrow that delivers us thus changed Makes you think so.

the sorrow that delivers us thus changed makes you think so.

You gods! I'm not able to face this. Turn your faces from me. I'll go alone. He's too tender to be with me. My mother comes, and my heart shakes to feel.

Gods, I can't do this. Don't look at me. I'm going alone. He's too delicate to be near me. My mother's coming and I'm shaking.

can't do this turning away mother coming i'm shaking

Stand up, blessed.

Get up. You're blessed.

stand up.

you're blessed.

What is this? Your knees to me? To your corrected son?

What is this? Your knees to me? To your corrected son?

what is this? your knees to me? to your corrected son?

Thou art my warrior; I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady?

Thou art my warrior; I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady?

thou art my warrior; i holp to frame thee. do you know this

O mother, mother! What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope the dreadful gates. See how my mother bends! My old bones ache. Come, let's away. The gods have well approved our way. Let's go home.

Mom! What did you do? Look—the sky is opening up. My mother's kneeling! I can feel it in my bones. Let's get out of here. The gods are OK with this. Let's go.

mother what have you done heaven opens i surrender

You are my son, and the gods have made me a mother. What you've vowed to do, unmake it! Peace requires destruction. We ask for peace.

You're my son, and I'm a mother—the gods made me one. You promised to destroy them. Break that promise. Peace needs you to stop destroying. We're asking for peace.

you're my son unmake your vow stop destroying give us peace

The god of soldiers, With the consent of supreme Jove, inform Thy thoughts with nobleness, that thou mayst prove To shame unvulnerable, and stick i’ th’ wars Like a great seamark standing every flaw And saving those that eye thee.

The god of soldiers, With the consent of supreme Jove, inform Thy thoughts with nobleness, that thou mayst prove To shame unvulnerable, and stick i’ th’ wars Like a great seamark standing every flaw And saving those that eye thee.

the god of soldiers, with the consent of supreme jove, infor

That’s my brave boy!

That’s my brave boy!

that’s my brave boy!

Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself Are suitors to you.

Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself Are suitors to you.

even he, your wife, this lady, and myself are suitors to you

I beseech you, peace; Or, if you’d ask, remember this before: The thing I have forsworn to grant may never Be held by you denials. Do not bid me Dismiss my soldiers or capitulate Again with Rome’s mechanics. Tell me not Wherein I seem unnatural; desire not T’ allay my rages and revenges with Your colder reasons.

I beseech you, peace; Or, if you’d ask, remember this before: The thing I have forsworn to grant may never Be held by you denials. Do not bid me Dismiss my soldiers or capitulate Again with Rome’s mechanics. Tell me not Wherein I seem unnatural; desire not T’ allay my rages and revenges with Your colder reasons.

i beseech you, peace; or, if you’d ask, remember this before

No, stop. You said you won't give us anything, and we have nothing else to ask but what you've already refused. Yet we'll ask anyway—so if you fail us, the blame falls on your hardness. Hear us.

No, stop. You already said no to everything we could ask. We're gonna ask anyway—so if you won't do it, that's on you for being so hard. Listen to us.

you said no we'll ask anyway if you refuse blame is yours

Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark, for we’ll Hear naught from Rome in private. Your request?

Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark, for we’ll Hear naught from Rome in private. Your request?

aufidius, and you volsces, mark, for we’ll hear naught from

Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment And state of bodies would bewray what life We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself How more unfortunate than all living women Are we come hither; since that thy sight, which should Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts, Constrains them weep and shake with fear and sorrow, Making the mother, wife, and child to see The son, the husband, and the father tearing His country’s bowels out. And to poor we Thine enmity’s most capital. Thou barr’st us Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort That all but we enjoy. For how can we— Alas, how can we—for our country pray, Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory, Whereto we are bound? Alack, or we must lose The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person, Our comfort in the country. We must find An evident calamity, though we had Our wish, which side should win, for either thou Must as a foreign recreant be led With manacles through our streets, or else Triumphantly tread on thy country’s ruin And bear the palm for having bravely shed Thy wife and children’s blood. For myself, son, I purpose not to wait on fortune till These wars determine. If I cannot persuade thee Rather to show a noble grace to both parts Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner March to assault thy country than to tread— Trust to’t, thou shalt not—on thy mother’s womb That brought thee to this world.

Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment And state of bodies would bewray what life We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself How more unfortunate than all living women Are we come hither; since that thy sight, which should Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts, Constrains them weep and shake with fear and sorrow, Making the mother, wife, and child to see The son, the husband, and the father tearing His country’s bowels out. And to poor we Thine enmity’s most capital. Thou barr’st us Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort That all but we enjoy. For how can we— Alas, how can we—for our country pray, Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory, Whereto we are bound? Alack, or we must lose The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person, Our comfort in the country. We must find An evident calamity, though we had Our wish, which side should win, for either thou Must as a foreign recreant be led With manacles through our streets, or else Triumphantly tread on thy country’s ruin And bear the palm for having bravely shed Thy wife and children’s blood. For myself, son, I purpose not to wait on fortune till These wars determine. If I cannot persuade thee Rather to show a noble grace to both parts Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner March to assault thy country than to tread— Trust to’t, thou shalt not—on thy mother’s womb That brought thee to this world.

should we be silent and not speak, our raiment and state of

Ay, and mine, That brought you forth this boy to keep your name Living to time.

Ay, and mine, That brought you forth this boy to keep your name Living to time.

ay, and mine, that brought you forth this boy to keep your n

He shall not tread on me. I’ll run away till I am bigger, but then I’ll fight.

He shall not tread on me. I’ll run away till I am bigger, but then I’ll fight.

he shall not tread on me. i’ll run away till i am bigger, bu

Not of a woman’s tenderness to be Requires nor child nor woman’s face to see.— I have sat too long.

Not of a woman’s tenderness to be Requires nor child nor woman’s face to see.— I have sat too long.

not of a woman’s tenderness to be requires nor child nor wom

Nay, go not from us thus. If it were so, that our request did tend To save the Romans, thereby to destroy The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us As poisonous of your honour. No, our suit Is that you reconcile them, while the Volsces May say “This mercy we have showed,” the Romans “This we received,” and each in either side Give the all-hail to thee and cry, “Be blessed For making up this peace!” Thou know’st, great son, The end of war’s uncertain, but this certain, That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name Whose repetition will be dogged with curses, Whose chronicle thus writ: “The man was noble, But with his last attempt he wiped it out; Destroyed his country, and his name remains To th’ ensuing age abhorred.” Speak to me, son. Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour To imitate the graces of the gods, To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o’ th’ air And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak? Think’st thou it honourable for a noble man Still to remember wrongs?—Daughter, speak you. He cares not for your weeping.—Speak thou, boy. Perhaps thy childishness will move him more Than can our reasons.—There’s no man in the world More bound to’s mother, yet here he lets me prate Like one i’ th’ stocks. Thou hast never in thy life Showed thy dear mother any courtesy When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood, Has clucked thee to the wars and safely home, Loaden with honour. Say my request’s unjust And spurn me back; but if it be not so, Thou art not honest, and the gods will plague thee That thou restrain’st from me the duty which To a mother’s part belongs.—He turns away.— Down, ladies! Let us shame him with our knees. To his surname Coriolanus ’longs more pride Than pity to our prayers. Down! An end.

Nay, go not from us thus. If it were so, that our request did tend To save the Romans, thereby to destroy The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us As poisonous of your honour. No, our suit Is that you reconcile them, while the Volsces May say “This mercy we have showed,” the Romans “This we received,” and each in either side Give the all-hail to thee and cry, “Be blessed For making up this peace!” Thou know’st, great son, The end of war’s uncertain, but this certain, That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name Whose repetition will be dogged with curses, Whose chronicle thus writ: “The man was noble, But with his last attempt he wiped it out; Destroyed his country, and his name remains To th’ ensuing age abhorred.” Speak to me, son. Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour To imitate the graces of the gods, To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o’ th’ air And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak? Think’st thou it honourable for a noble man Still to remember wrongs?—Daughter, speak you. He cares not for your weeping.—Speak thou, boy. Perhaps thy childishness will move him more Than can our reasons.—There’s no man in the world More bound to’s mother, yet here he lets me prate Like one i’ th’ stocks. Thou hast never in thy life Showed thy dear mother any courtesy When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood, Has clucked thee to the wars and safely home, Loaden with honour. Say my request’s unjust And spurn me back; but if it be not so, Thou art not honest, and the gods will plague thee That thou restrain’st from me the duty which To a mother’s part belongs.—He turns away.— Down, ladies! Let us shame him with our knees. To his surname Coriolanus ’longs more pride Than pity to our prayers. Down! An end.

nay, go not from us thus. if it were so, that our request di

O mother, mother! What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, The gods look down, and this unnatural scene They laugh at. O my mother, mother, O! You have won a happy victory to Rome, But, for your son—believe it, O, believe it!— Most dangerously you have with him prevailed, If not most mortal to him. But let it come.— Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars, I’ll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius, Were you in my stead, would you have heard A mother less? Or granted less, Aufidius?

O mother, mother! What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, The gods look down, and this unnatural scene They laugh at. O my mother, mother, O! You have won a happy victory to Rome, But, for your son—believe it, O, believe it!— Most dangerously you have with him prevailed, If not most mortal to him. But let it come.— Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars, I’ll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius, Were you in my stead, would you have heard A mother less? Or granted less, Aufidius?

o mother, mother! what have you done? behold, the heavens do

I was moved withal.

I was moved withal.

i was moved withal.

I dare be sworn you were. And, sir, it is no little thing to make Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir, What peace you’ll make, advise me. For my part, I’ll not to Rome, I’ll back with you; and pray you, Stand to me in this cause.—O mother!—Wife!

I dare be sworn you were. And, sir, it is no little thing to make Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir, What peace you’ll make, advise me. For my part, I’ll not to Rome, I’ll back with you; and pray you, Stand to me in this cause.—O mother!—Wife!

i dare be sworn you were. and, sir, it is no little thing to

At difference in thee. Out of that I’ll work Myself a former fortune.

At difference in thee. Out of that I’ll work Myself a former fortune.

at difference in thee. out of that i’ll work myself a former

But we’ll drink together, and you shall bear A better witness back than words, which we, On like conditions, will have countersealed. Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve To have a temple built you. All the swords In Italy, and her confederate arms, Could not have made this peace.

But we’ll drink together, and you shall bear A better witness back than words, which we, On like conditions, will have countersealed. Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve To have a temple built you. All the swords In Italy, and her confederate arms, Could not have made this peace.

but we’ll drink together, and you shall bear a better witnes