3 Serv. What are you? Cor. A gentleman. 3 Serv. A marvellous poor one. Cor. True, so I am. 3 Serv. Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other station; here's no place for you; pray you, avoid: come. Cor. Follow your function, go! And batten on cold bits. [Pushes him away. 3 Serv. What, will you not? Pr'ythee, tell my master what a strange guest he has here. 2 Serv. And I shall. 3 Serv. Where dwellest thou? Cor. Under the canopy. 3 Serv. Under the canopy? Cor. Ay. 3 Serv. Where's that? Cor. I' the city of kites and crows. [Exit. 3 Serv. I' the city of kites and crows?-What an ass it is!-Then thou dwellest with daws too? Cor. No, I serve not thy master. 3 Serv. How, sir! Do you meddle with my master? Cor. Ay; 'tis an honester service than to meddle with thy mistress: Thou prat'st, and prat'st; serve with thy trencher, hence! [Beats him away. Enter AUFIDIUS and the second Servant. Auf. Where is this fellow? 2 Serv. Here, sir; I'd have beaten him like a dog, but for disturbing the lords within. Auf. Whence comest thou? what wouldest thou? Why speak'st not? Speak, man: What's thy name? Think me for the man I am, necessity Commands me name myself. Auf. What is thy name? Servants retire. Cor. A name unmusical to the Volcians' ears, And harsh in sound to thine. Auf. Say, what's thy name? Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face Bears a command in't; though thy tackle's torn, Thou show'st a noble vessel: What's thy name? Cor. Prepare thy brow to frown: Know'st thou me yet? Auf. I know thee not:-Thy name? Cor. My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done The cruelty and envy of the people, Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest; I had fear'd death, of all the men i' the world Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast - a good memory,] Memory for memorial. 2 A heart of wreak in thee,] A heart of resentment. Thine own particular wrongs, and stop those maims And make my misery serve thy turn; so use it, As benefits to thee; for I will fight Against my canker'd country with the spleen Thou dar'st not this, and that to prove more fortunes Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast, It be to do thee service. Auf. O Marcius, Marcius, Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter Should from yon cloud speak divine things, and say, Mine arms about that body, where against maims Of shame-] That is, disgraceful diminutions of territory. with the spleen Of all the under fiends.] Shakspeare, by imputing a stronger degree of inveteracy to subordinate fiends, seems to intimate, and very justly, that malice of revenge is more predominant in the lower than the upper classes of society. This circumstance is repeatedly exemplified in the conduct of Jack Cade and other heroes of the mob. STEEVENS. 5 * And scar'd the moon-] that is, frightened. 6 Here I clip-] To clip is to embrace. The anvil of my sword; and do contest Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, Sighed truer breath; but that I see thee here, Had we no quarrel else to Rome, but that Cor. You bless me, Gods! Auf. Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt have The leading of thine own revenges, take Thou hast beat me out Twelve several times,] Out here means, full, complete. Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, To fright them, ere destroy. But come in: A thousand welcomes! And more a friend than e'er an enemy; Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand! Most welcome! [Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIDius. 1 Serv. [Advancing.] Here's a strange alteration! 2 Serv. By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with a cudgel; and yet my mind gave me, his clothes made a false report of him. 1 Serv. What an arm he has! He turned me about with his finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top. 2 Serv. Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in him: He had, sir, a kind of face, methought, I cannot tell how to term it. 1 Serv. He had so; looking as it were,'Would I were hanged, but I thought there was more in him than I could think. 2 Serv. So did I, I'll be sworn: He is simply the rarest man i' the world. 1 Serv. I think, he is: but a greater soldier than he, you wot one. 2 Serv. Who? my master? 1 Serv. Nay, it's no matter for that. 2 Serv. Worth six of him. 1 Serv. Nay, not so neither; but I take him to be the greater soldier. 2 Serv. 'Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that: for the defence of a town, our general is excellent. 1 Serv. Ay, and for an assault too. |