William Shakespeare

“ MENENIUS. Pray now, your news?— You have made fair work, I fear me.—Pray, your news. If Marcius should be join'd wi' the Volscians,—
COMINIUS. If! He is their god: he leads them like a thing Made by some other deity than nature, That shapes man better; and they follow him, Against us brats, with no less confidence Than boys pursuing summer butterflies, Or butchers killing flies.
MENENIUS. You have made good work, You and your apron men; you that stood so much Upon the voice of occupation and The breath of garlic-eaters!
COMINIUS. He'll shake Your Rome about your ears. ”

“ MENENIUS. I would they were in Tiber! What the vengeance, could he not speak 'em fair?
[Re-enter BRUTUS and SICINIUS, with the rabble.]
SICINIUS. Where is this viper That would depopulate the city and Be every man himself?
MENENIUS. You worthy tribunes,—
SICINIUS. He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock With rigorous hands: he hath resisted law, And therefore law shall scorn him further trial Than the severity of the public power, Which he so sets at nought.
FIRST CITIZEN. He shall well know The noble tribunes are the people's mouths, And we their hands.
CITIZENS. He shall, sure on't. ”

“ MENENIUS. See you yond coign o' the Capitol,—yond corner-stone?
SICINIUS. Why, what of that?
MENENIUS. If it be possible for you to displace it with your little finger, there is some hope the ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. But I say there is no hope in't: our throats are sentenced, and stay upon execution.
SICINIUS. Is't possible that so short a time can alter the condition of a man?
MENENIUS. There is differency between a grub and a butterfly; yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown from man to dragon; he has wings; he's more than a creeping thing. ”

“ I'll do well yet.—Thou old and true Menenius, Thy tears are salter than a younger man's, And venomous to thine eyes.—My sometime general, I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld Heart-hard'ning spectacles; tell these sad women 'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes, As 'tis to laugh at 'em.—My mother, you wot well My hazards still have been your solace: and Believe't not lightly,—though I go alone, Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen Makes fear'd and talk'd of more than seen,—your son Will or exceed the common or be caught With cautelous baits and practice. ”

“ LARTIUS. O general, Here is the steed, we the caparison: Hadst thou beheld,—
MARCIUS. Pray now, no more: my mother, Who has a charter to extol her blood, When she does praise me grieves me. I have done As you have done,—that's what I can; induced As you have been,—that's for my country: He that has but effected his good will Hath overta'en mine act.
COMINIUS. You shall not be The grave of your deserving; Rome must know The value of her own: 'twere a concealment Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement, To hide your doings ”

“ MENENIUS. Because you talk of pride now,—will you not be angry?
BOTH TRIBUNES. Well, well, sir, well.
MENENIUS. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience: give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at your pleasures; at the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you in being so. You blame Marcius for being proud?
BRUTUS. We do it not alone, sir.
MENENIUS. I know you can do very little alone; for your helps are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous single: your abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone. ”

“ MARCIUS. He that will give good words to thee will flatter Beneath abhorring.—What would you have, you curs, That like nor peace nor war? The one affrights you, The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you, Where he should find you lions, finds you hares; Where foxes, geese: you are no surer, no, Than is the coal of fire upon the ic, Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is To make him worthy whose offence subdues him, And curse that justice did it. Who deserves greatness Deserves your hate; and your affections are A sick man's appetite, who desires most that Which would increase his evil. ”

“ If we lose the field
We cannot keep the town.
LIEUTENANT. Fear not our care, sir.
LARTIUS. Hence, and shut your gates upon's.
Our guider, come; to th' Roman camp conduct us. Exeunt
SCENE VIII. A field of battle between the Roman and the Volscian camps Alarum, as in battle. Enter MARCIUS and AUFIDIUS at several doors
MARCIUS. I'll fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee
Worse than a promise-breaker.
AUFIDIUS. We hate alike:
Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor
More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot.
MARCIUS. Let the first budger die the other's slave,
And the gods doom him after! ”

“ If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there
That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I
Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli.
Alone I did it. 'Boy'!
AUFIDIUS. Why, noble lords,
Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune,
Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart,
Fore your own eyes and ears?
CONSPIRATORS. Let him die for't.
ALL THE PEOPLE. Tear him to pieces. Do it presently. He kill'd
my
son. My daughter. He kill'd my cousin Marcus. He kill'd my
father.
SECOND LORD. Peace, ho! No outrage- peace!
The man is noble, and his fame folds in
This orb o' th' earth. ”

“ MARCIUS. As with a man busied about decrees: Condemning some to death and some to exile; Ransoming him or pitying, threat'ning the other; Holding Corioli in the name of Rome, Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, To let him slip at will.
COMINIUS. Where is that slave Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? Where's he? call him hither.
MARCIUS. Let him alone; He did inform the truth: but for our gentlemen, The common file,—a plague!—tribunes for them!— The mouse ne'er shunned the cat as they did budge From rascals worse than they. ”