I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name,
Coriolanus in Corioli?
You lords and heads o' the state, perfidiously
He has betray'd your business, and given up, 92
For certain drops of salt, your city Rome,
I say 'your city,' to his wife and mother;
Breaking his oath and resolution like
A twist of rotten silk, never admitting 96
Counsel o' the war, but at his nurse's tears
He whin'd and roar'd away your victory,
That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart
Look'd wondering each at others.
Cor. Hear'st thou, Mars? 100
Auf. Name not the god, thou boy of tears.
Cor. Ha!
Auf. No more.
Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart
Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave! 104
Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever
I was forc'd to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords,
Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion—
Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him, that 108
Must bear my beating to his grave—shall join
To thrust the lie unto him.
1. Lord. Peace, both, and hear me speak.
Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and lads, 112
Stain all your edges on me. Boy! False hound!
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I
96 twist: skein
96, 97 never . . . war: permitting no council of war
99 That pages: so that young boys
men of heart: valiant men
104 Too . . . it: swollen with indignation till my breast cannot contain it
107 notion: intelligence
108 that: who
