The Tragedy of Coriolanus — Act 4 Scene 7

Enter Auffidius with his Lieutenant.

Auf.Do they still flye to'th'Roman?

Lieu.I do not know what Witchcraft's in him: butYour Soldiers vse him as the Grace 'fore meate,Their talke at Table, and their Thankes at end,And you are darkned in this action Sir,Euen by your owne.

Auf.I cannot helpe it now,Vnlesse by vsing meanes I lame the footeOf our designe. He beares himselfe more proudlier,Euen to my person, then I thought he wouldWhen first I did embrace him. Yet his NatureIn that's no Changeling, and I must excuseWhat cannot be amended.

Lieu.Yet I wish Sir,(I meane for your particular) you had notIoyn'd in Commission with him: but either haue borneThe action of your selfe, or else to him, had left it soly.

Auf.I vnderstand thee well, and be thou sureWhen he shall come to his account, he knowes notWhat I can vrge against him, although it seemesAnd so he thinkes, and is no lesse apparantTo th'vulgar eye, that he beares all things fairely:And shewes good Husbandry for the Volcian State,Fights Dragon-like, and does atcheeue as sooneAs draw his Sword: yet he hath left vndoneThat which shall breake his necke, or hazard mine,When ere we come to our account.

Lieu.Sir, I beseech you, think you he'l carry Rome?

Auf.All places yeelds to him ere he sits downe,And the Nobility of Rome are his:The Senators and Patricians loue him too:The Tribunes are no Soldiers: and their peopleWill be as rash in the repeale, as hastyTo expell him thence. I thinke hee'l be to RomeAs is the Aspray to the Fish, who takes itBy Soueraignty of Nature. First, he wasA Noble seruant to them, but he could notCarry his Honors eeuen: whether 'was PrideWhich out of dayly Fortune euer taintsThe happy man; whether detect of iudgement,To faile in the disposing of those chancesWhich he was Lord of: or whether Nature,Not to be other then one thing, not moouingFrom th'Caske to th'Cushion: but commanding peaceEuen with the same austerity and garbe,As he controll'd the warre. But one of these(As he hath spices of them all) not all,For I dare so farre free him, made him fear'd,So hated, and so banish'd: but he ha's a MeritTo choake it in the vtt'rance: So our Vertue,Lie in th'interpretation of the time,And power vnto it selfe most commendable,Hath not a Tombe so euident as a ChaireT'extoll what it hath done.One fire driues out one fire; one Naile, one Naile;Rights by rights fouler, strengths by strengths do faile.Come let's away: when Caius Rome is thine,Exeunt.Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou mine.