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I would have 'voided thee, but in mere spite, |
To be full quit of those my banishers, |
Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast |
A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge |
Thine own particular wrongs and stop those maims |
Of shame seen through thy country, speed |
thee straight, |
And make my misery serve thy turn: so use it |
That my revengeful services may prove |
As benefits to thee, for I will fight |
Against my canker'd country with the spleen |
Of all the under fiends. But if so be |
Thou darest not this and that to prove more fortunes |
Thou'rt tired, then, in a word, I also am |
Longer to live most weary, and present |
My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice; |
Which not to cut would show thee but a fool, |
Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate, |
Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast, |
And cannot live but to thy shame, unless |
It be to do thee service. |
AUFIDIUS: |
O Marcius, Marcius! |
Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart |
A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter |
Should from yond cloud speak divine things, |
And say 'Tis true,' I'ld not believe them more |
Than thee, all noble Marcius. Let me twine |
Mine arms about that body, where against |
My grained ash an hundred times hath broke |
And scarr'd the moon with splinters: here I clip |
The anvil of my sword, and do contest |
As hotly and as nobly with thy love |
As ever in ambitious strength I did |
Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, |
I loved the maid I married; never man |
Sigh'd truer breath; but that I see thee here, |
Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart |
Than when I first my wedded mistress saw |
Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell thee, |
We have a power on foot; and I had purpose |
Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn, |
Or lose mine arm fort: thou hast beat me out |
Twelve several times, and I have nightly since |
Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me; |
We have been down together in my sleep, |
Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat, |
And waked half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius, |
Had we no quarrel else to Rome, but that |
Thou art thence banish'd, we would muster all |
From twelve to seventy, and pouring war |
Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome, |
Like a bold flood o'er-bear. O, come, go in, |
And take our friendly senators by the hands; |
Who now are here, taking their leaves of me, |
Who am prepared against your territories, |
Though not for Rome itself. |
CORIOLANUS: |
You bless me, gods! |
AUFIDIUS: |
Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt have |
The leading of thine own revenges, take |
The one half of my commission; and set down-- |
As best thou art experienced, since thou know'st |
Thy country's strength and weakness,--thine own ways; |
Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, |
Or rudely visit them in parts remote, |
To fright them, ere destroy. But come in: |
Let me commend thee first to those that shall |
Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes! |
And more a friend than e'er an enemy; |
Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand: most welcome! |
First Servingman: |
Here's a strange alteration! |
Second Servingman: |
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. |
First Servingman: |
What an arm he has! he turned me about with his |
finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top. |
Second Servingman: |
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. |
First Servingman: |
He had so; looking as it were--would I were hanged, |
but I thought there was more in him than I could think. |
Second Servingman: |
So did I, I'll be sworn: he is simply the rarest |
man i' the world. |
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