The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: aa4r - Tragedies, p. 7

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The Tragedie of Coriolanus.
[Act 1, Scene 9] Flourish. Alarum. A Retreat is sounded. Enter at one Doore Cominius, with the Romanes: At another Doore Martius, with his Arme in a Scarfe. Com. If I should tell thee o're this thy dayes Worke, Thou't not beleeue thy deeds: but Ile report it, Where Senators shall mingle teares with smiles,
[700]
Where great Patricians shall attend, and shrug, I'th'end admire: where Ladies shall be frighted, And gladly quak'd, heare more: where the dull Tribunes, That with the fustie Plebeans, hate thine Honors, Shall say against their hearts, We thanke the Gods
[705]
Our Rome hath such a Souldier. Yet cam'st thou to a Morsell of this Feast, Hauing fully din'd before.
Enter Titus with his Power, from the Pursuit. Titus Lartius. Oh Generall: Here is the Steed, wee the Caparison:
[710]
Hadst thou beheld⸺
Martius. Pray now, no more: My Mother, who ha's a Charter to extoll her Bloud, When she do's prayse me, grieues me: I haue done as you haue done, that's what I can,
[715]
Induc'd as you haue beene, that's for my Countrey: He that ha's but effected his good will, Hath ouerta'ne mine Act
Com. You shall not be the Graue of your deseruing, Rome must know the value of her owne:
[720]
'Twere a Concealement worse then a Theft, No lesse then a Traducement, To hide your doings, and to silence that, Which to the spire, and top of prayses vouch'd, Would seeme but modest: therefore I beseech you,
[725]
In signe of what you are, not to reward What you haue done, before our Armie heare me.
Martius. I haue some Wounds vpon me, and they smart To heare themselues remembred. Com. Should they not:
[730]
Well might they fester 'gainst Ingratitude, And tent themselues with death: of all the Horses, Whereof we haue ta'ne good, and good store of all, The Treasure in this field atchieued, and Citie, We render you the Tenth, to be ta'ne forth,
[735]
Before the common distribution, At your onely choyse.
Martius. I thanke you Generall: But cannot make my heart consent to take A Bribe, to pay my Sword: I doe refuse it,
[740]
And stand vpon my common part with those, That haue beheld the doing.
A long flourish. They all cry, Martius, Martius, cast vp their Caps and Launces: Cominius and Lartius stand bare. Mar. May these same Instruments, which you prophane, Neuer sound more: when Drums and Trumpets shall I'th'field proue flatterers, let Courts and Cities be
[745]
Made all of false‑fac'd soothing: When Steele growes soft, as the Parasites Silke, Let him be made an Ouerture for th'Warres: No more I say, for that I haue not wash'd

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Right Column


My Nose that bled, or foyl'd some debile Wretch,
[750]
Which without note, here's many else haue done, You shoot me forth in acclamations hyperbolicall, As if I lou'd my little should be dieted In prayses, sawc'st with Lyes.
Com. Too modest are you:
[755]
More cruell to your good report, then gratefull To vs, that giue you truly: by your patience, If'gainst your selfe you be incens'd, wee'le put you (Like one that meanes his proper harme) in Manacles, Then reason safely with you: Therefore be it knowne,
[760]
As to vs, to all the World, That Caius Martius Weares this Warres Garland: in token of the which, My Noble Steed, knowne to the Campe, I giue him, With all his trim belonging; and from this time, For what he did before Corioles, call him,
[765]
With all th'applause and Clamor of the Hoast, Marcus Caius Coriolanus. Beare th' addition Nobly euer?
Flourish. Trumpets sound, and Drums. Omnes.

Marcus Caius Coriolanus

Martius. I will goe wash: And when my Face is faire, you shall perceiue
[770]
Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thanke you, I meane to stride your Steed, and at all times To vnder‑crest your good Addition, To th'fairenesse of my power.
Com. So, to our Tent:
[775]
Where ere we doe repose vs, we will write To Rome of our successe: you Titus Lartius Must to Corioles backe, send vs to Rome The best, with whom we may articulate, For their owne good, and ours.
Lartius.
[780]

I shall, my Lord.

Martius. The Gods begin to mocke me: I that now refus'd most Princely gifts, Am bound to begge of my Lord Generall. Com.

Tak't, 'tis yours: what is't?

Martius.
[785]
I sometime lay here in Corioles, At a poore mans house: he vs'd me kindly, He cry'd to me: I saw him Prisoner: But then Auffidius was within my view, And Wrath o're‑whelm'd my pittie: I request you
[790]
To giue my poore Host freedome.
Com. Oh well begg'd: Were he the Butcher of my Sonne, he should Be free, as is the Winde: deliuer him, Titus. Lartius.

Martius, his Name.

Martius.
[795]
By Iupiter forgot: I am wearie, yea, my memorie is tyr'd: Haue we no Wine here?
Com. Goe we to our Tent: The bloud vpon your Visage dryes, 'tis time
[800]
It should be lookt too: come.
Exeunt.
[Act 1, Scene 10] A flourish. Cornets. Enter Tullus Auffidius bloudie, with two or three Souldiors. Auffi.

The Towne is ta'ne.

Sould.

'Twill be deliuer'd backe on good Condition.

Auffid. Condition? I would I were a Roman, for I cannot,
[805]
Being a Volce, be that I am. Condition? What good Condition can a Treatie finde I'th'part that is at mercy ? fiue times, Martius, I haue fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me: And would'st doe so, I thinke, should we encounter As

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[Act 1, Scene 9] Flourish. Alarum. A Retreat is sounded. Enter at one Doore Cominius, with the Romanes: At another Doore Martius, with his Arme in a Scarfe. Com. If I should tell thee o're this thy dayes Worke, Thou't not beleeue thy deeds: but Ile report it, Where Senators shall mingle teares with smiles,
[700]
Where great Patricians shall attend, and shrug, I'th'end admire: where Ladies shall be frighted, And gladly quak'd, heare more: where the dull Tribunes, That with the fustie Plebeans, hate thine Honors, Shall say against their hearts, We thanke the Gods
[705]
Our Rome hath such a Souldier. Yet cam'st thou to a Morsell of this Feast, Hauing fully din'd before.
Enter Titus with his Power, from the Pursuit. Titus Lartius. Oh Generall: Here is the Steed, wee the Caparison:
[710]
Hadst thou beheld⸺
Martius. Pray now, no more: My Mother, who ha's a Charter to extoll her Bloud, When she do's prayse me, grieues me: I haue done as you haue done, that's what I can,
[715]
Induc'd as you haue beene, that's for my Countrey: He that ha's but effected his good will, Hath ouerta'ne mine Act
Com. You shall not be the Graue of your deseruing, Rome must know the value of her owne:
[720]
'Twere a Concealement worse then a Theft, No lesse then a Traducement, To hide your doings, and to silence that, Which to the spire, and top of prayses vouch'd, Would seeme but modest: therefore I beseech you,
[725]
In signe of what you are, not to reward What you haue done, before our Armie heare me.
Martius. I haue some Wounds vpon me, and they smart To heare themselues remembred. Com. Should they not:
[730]
Well might they fester 'gainst Ingratitude, And tent themselues with death: of all the Horses, Whereof we haue ta'ne good, and good store of all, The Treasure in this field atchieued, and Citie, We render you the Tenth, to be ta'ne forth,
[735]
Before the common distribution, At your onely choyse.
Martius. I thanke you Generall: But cannot make my heart consent to take A Bribe, to pay my Sword: I doe refuse it,
[740]
And stand vpon my common part with those, That haue beheld the doing.
A long flourish. They all cry, Martius, Martius, cast vp their Caps and Launces: Cominius and Lartius stand bare. Mar. May these same Instruments, which you prophane, Neuer sound more: when Drums and Trumpets shall I'th'field proue flatterers, let Courts and Cities be
[745]
Made all of false‑fac'd soothing: When Steele growes soft, as the Parasites Silke, Let him be made an Ouerture for th'Warres: No more I say, for that I haue not wash'd My Nose that bled, or foyl'd some debile Wretch,
[750]
Which without note, here's many else haue done, You shoot me forth in acclamations hyperbolicall, As if I lou'd my little should be dieted In prayses, sawc'st with Lyes.
Com. Too modest are you:
[755]
More cruell to your good report, then gratefull To vs, that giue you truly: by your patience, If'gainst your selfe you be incens'd, wee'le put you (Like one that meanes his proper harme) in Manacles, Then reason safely with you: Therefore be it knowne,
[760]
As to vs, to all the World, That Caius Martius Weares this Warres Garland: in token of the which, My Noble Steed, knowne to the Campe, I giue him, With all his trim belonging; and from this time, For what he did before Corioles, call him,
[765]
With all th'applause and Clamor of the Hoast, Marcus Caius Coriolanus. Beare th' addition Nobly euer?
Flourish. Trumpets sound, and Drums. Omnes.

Marcus Caius Coriolanus

Martius. I will goe wash: And when my Face is faire, you shall perceiue
[770]
Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thanke you, I meane to stride your Steed, and at all times To vnder‑crest your good Addition, To th'fairenesse of my power.
Com. So, to our Tent:
[775]
Where ere we doe repose vs, we will write To Rome of our successe: you Titus Lartius Must to Corioles backe, send vs to Rome The best, with whom we may articulate, For their owne good, and ours.
Lartius.
[780]

I shall, my Lord.

Martius. The Gods begin to mocke me: I that now refus'd most Princely gifts, Am bound to begge of my Lord Generall. Com.

Tak't, 'tis yours: what is't?

Martius.
[785]
I sometime lay here in Corioles, At a poore mans house: he vs'd me kindly, He cry'd to me: I saw him Prisoner: But then Auffidius was within my view, And Wrath o're‑whelm'd my pittie: I request you
[790]
To giue my poore Host freedome.
Com. Oh well begg'd: Were he the Butcher of my Sonne, he should Be free, as is the Winde: deliuer him, Titus. Lartius.

Martius, his Name.

Martius.
[795]
By Iupiter forgot: I am wearie, yea, my memorie is tyr'd: Haue we no Wine here?
Com. Goe we to our Tent: The bloud vpon your Visage dryes, 'tis time
[800]
It should be lookt too: come.
Exeunt.
 

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<div type="scene" n="9" rend="notPresent">
   <head type="supplied">[Act 1, Scene 9]</head>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Flourish. Alarum. A Retreat is sounded. Enter at
      <lb/>one Doore Cominius, with the Romanes: At
      <lb/>another Doore Martius, with his
      <lb/>Arme in a Scarfe.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cor-com">
      <speaker rend="italic">Com.</speaker>
      <l n="697">If I should tell thee o're this thy dayes Worke,</l>
      <l n="698">Thou't not beleeue thy deeds: but Ile report it,</l>
      <l n="699">Where Senators shall mingle teares with smiles,</l>
      <l n="700">Where great Patricians shall attend, and shrug,</l>
      <l n="701">I'th'end admire: where Ladies shall be frighted,</l>
      <l n="702">And gladly quak'd, heare more: where the dull Tribunes,</l>
      <l n="703">That with the fustie Plebeans, hate thine Honors,</l>
      <l n="704">Shall say against their hearts, We thanke the Gods</l>
      <l n="705">Our Rome hath such a Souldier.</l>
      <l n="706">Yet cam'st thou to a Morsell of this Feast,</l>
      <l n="707">Hauing fully din'd before.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Titus with his Power, from the Pursuit.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cor-lar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Titus Lartius.</speaker>
      <l n="708">Oh Generall:</l>
      <l n="709">Here is the Steed, wee the Caparison:</l>
      <l n="710">Hadst thou beheld⸺</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Martius.</speaker>
      <l n="711">Pray now, no more:</l>
      <l n="712">My Mother, who ha's a Charter to extoll her Bloud,</l>
      <l n="713">When she do's prayse me, grieues me:</l>
      <l n="714">I haue done as you haue done, that's what I can,</l>
      <l n="715">Induc'd as you haue beene, that's for my Countrey:</l>
      <l n="716">He that ha's but effected his good will,</l>
      <l n="717">Hath ouerta'ne mine Act</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-com">
      <speaker rend="italic">Com.</speaker>
      <l n="718">You shall not be the Graue of your deseruing,</l>
      <l n="719">Rome must know the value of her owne:</l>
      <l n="720">'Twere a Concealement worse then a Theft,</l>
      <l n="721">No lesse then a Traducement,</l>
      <l n="722">To hide your doings, and to silence that,</l>
      <l n="723">Which to the spire, and top of prayses vouch'd,</l>
      <l n="724">Would seeme but modest: therefore I beseech you,</l>
      <l n="725">In signe of what you are, not to reward</l>
      <l n="726">What you haue done, before our Armie heare me.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Martius.</speaker>
      <l n="727">I haue some Wounds vpon me, and they smart</l>
      <l n="728">To heare themselues remembred.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-com">
      <speaker rend="italic">Com.</speaker>
      <l n="729">Should they not:</l>
      <l n="730">Well might they fester 'gainst Ingratitude,</l>
      <l n="731">And tent themselues with death: of all the Horses,</l>
      <l n="732">Whereof we haue ta'ne good, and good store of all,</l>
      <l n="733">The Treasure in this field atchieued, and Citie,</l>
      <l n="734">We render you the Tenth, to be ta'ne forth,</l>
      <l n="735">Before the common distribution,</l>
      <l n="736">At your onely choyse.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Martius.</speaker>
      <l n="737">I thanke you Generall:</l>
      <l n="738">But cannot make my heart consent to take</l>
      <l n="739">A Bribe, to pay my Sword: I doe refuse it,</l>
      <l n="740">And stand vpon my common part with those,</l>
      <l n="741">That haue beheld the doing.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="mixed">A long flourish. They all cry, Martius, Martius,
      <lb/>cast vp their Caps and Launces: Cominius
      <lb/>and Lartius stand bare.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cor-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mar.</speaker>
      <l n="742">May these same Instruments, which you prophane,</l>
      <l n="743">Neuer sound more: when Drums and Trumpets shall</l>
      <l n="744">I'th'field proue flatterers, let Courts and Cities be</l>
      <l n="745">Made all of false‑fac'd soothing:</l>
      <l n="746">When Steele growes soft, as the Parasites Silke,</l>
      <l n="747">Let him be made an Ouerture for th'Warres:</l>
      <l n="748">No more I say, for that I haue not wash'd</l>
      <cb n="2"/>
      <l n="749">My Nose that bled, or foyl'd some debile Wretch,</l>
      <l n="750">Which without note, here's many else haue done,</l>
      <l n="751">You shoot me forth in acclamations hyperbolicall,</l>
      <l n="752">As if I lou'd my little should be dieted</l>
      <l n="753">In prayses, sawc'st with Lyes.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-com">
      <speaker rend="italic">Com.</speaker>
      <l n="754">Too modest are you:</l>
      <l n="755">More cruell to your good report, then gratefull</l>
      <l n="756">To vs, that giue you truly: by your patience,</l>
      <l n="757">If'gainst your selfe you be incens'd, wee'le put you</l>
      <l n="758">(Like one that meanes his proper harme) in Manacles,</l>
      <l n="759">Then reason safely with you: Therefore be it knowne,</l>
      <l n="760">As to vs, to all the World, That<hi rend="italic">Caius Martius</hi>
      </l>
      <l n="761">Weares this Warres Garland: in token of the which,</l>
      <l n="762">My Noble Steed, knowne to the Campe, I giue him,</l>
      <l n="763">With all his trim belonging; and from this time,</l>
      <l n="764">For what he did before<hi rend="italic">Corioles</hi>, call him,</l>
      <l n="765">With all th'applause and Clamor of the Hoast,</l>
      <l n="766">
         <hi rend="italic">Marcus Caius Coriolanus</hi>. Beare th' addition Nobly euer?</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="business">Flourish. Trumpets sound, and Drums.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cor-all">
      <speaker rend="italic">Omnes.</speaker>
      <p n="767">
         <hi rend="italic">Marcus Caius Coriolanus</hi>
      </p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Martius.</speaker>
      <l n="768">I will goe wash:</l>
      <l n="769">And when my Face is faire, you shall perceiue</l>
      <l n="770">Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thanke you,</l>
      <l n="771">I meane to stride your Steed, and at all times</l>
      <l n="772">To vnder‑crest your good Addition,</l>
      <l n="773">To th'fairenesse of my power.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-com">
      <speaker rend="italic">Com.</speaker>
      <l n="774">So, to our Tent:</l>
      <l n="775">Where ere we doe repose vs, we will write</l>
      <l n="776">To Rome of our successe: you<hi rend="italic">Titus Lartius</hi>
      </l>
      <l n="777">Must to<hi rend="italic">Corioles</hi>backe, send vs to Rome</l>
      <l n="778">The best, with whom we may articulate,</l>
      <l n="779">For their owne good, and ours.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-lar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Lartius.</speaker>
      <p n="780">I shall, my Lord.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Martius.</speaker>
      <l n="781">The Gods begin to mocke me:</l>
      <l n="782">I that now refus'd most Princely gifts,</l>
      <l n="783">Am bound to begge of my Lord Generall.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-com">
      <speaker rend="italic">Com.</speaker>
      <p n="784">Tak't, 'tis yours: what is't?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Martius.</speaker>
      <l n="785">I sometime lay here in<hi rend="italic">Corioles</hi>,</l>
      <l n="786">At a poore mans house: he vs'd me kindly,</l>
      <l n="787">He cry'd to me: I saw him Prisoner:</l>
      <l n="788">But then<hi rend="italic">Auffidius</hi>was within my view,</l>
      <l n="789">And Wrath o're‑whelm'd my pittie: I request you</l>
      <l n="790">To giue my poore Host freedome.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-com">
      <speaker rend="italic">Com.</speaker>
      <l n="791">Oh well begg'd:</l>
      <l n="792">Were he the Butcher of my Sonne, he should</l>
      <l n="793">Be free, as is the Winde: deliuer him,<hi rend="italic">Titus</hi>.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-lar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Lartius.</speaker>
      <p n="794">
         <hi rend="italic">Martius</hi>, his Name.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Martius.</speaker>
      <l n="795">By<hi rend="italic">Iupiter</hi>forgot:</l>
      <l n="796">I am wearie, yea, my memorie is tyr'd:</l>
      <l n="797">Haue we no Wine here?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-com">
      <speaker rend="italic">Com.</speaker>
      <l n="798">Goe we to our Tent:</l>
      <l n="799">The bloud vpon your Visage dryes, 'tis time</l>
      <l n="800">It should be lookt too: come.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic inline" type="exit">Exeunt.</stage>
</div>

        
        

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