If I should tell thee o’er this thy day’s work,
Thou’t not believe thy deeds. But I’ll report it
Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles;
Where great patricians shall attend and shrug,
I’ th’ end admire; where ladies shall be frighted
And, gladly quaked, hear more; where the dull tribunes,
That with the fusty plebeians hate thine honours,
Shall say against their hearts “We thank the gods
Our Rome hath such a soldier.”
Yet cam’st thou to a morsel of this feast,
Having fully dined before.
Titus Lartius enters, coming from pursuit of the enemy.
Lartius comes in, fresh from chasing the Volsces.
lartius enters from pursuit
O general,
Here is the steed, we the caparison.
Hadst thou beheld—
Please, no more. My mother — who has the right to brag about her blood — when she praises me, it bothers me. I did what you did, and that's the best I can do. I was forced to it, as you were — that's for my country. Whoever just did his best has already surpassed what I've done.
Stop. Don't. My mother — she can talk about me if she wants — but when she does, it drives me crazy. I did what you all did. That's it. I had to, like you did — for Rome. Anyone who tried his best did more than me.
no more mother praises grieves did as you that what i can for country tried best overta'en my act
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.
You won't become the tomb of your own deserving. Rome must know her own value. Hiding what you did would be like theft — worse, it would be slander against you. I beg you: in token of what you are, not to reward what you've done, let the army hear me now.
I won't let your achievements die with silence. Rome needs to know what you're worth. Hiding this would be worse than stealing. Please — let the army hear what I have to say about you.
grave of deserving rome must know concealment theft traducement let army hear
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 and to silence that
Which, to the spire and top of praises vouched,
Would seem but modest. Therefore, I beseech you—
In sign of what you are, not to reward
What you have done—before our army hear me.
I have wounds on me, and they ache when I hear them talked about.
I've got wounds that hurt when people mention them.
wounds on me smart remembered
I have some wounds upon me, and they smart
To hear themselves remembered.
They shouldn't — if they did, they might fester with neglect and decay from ingratitude. We have taken many horses and much treasure from this field and city. We give you one tenth of everything, taken first before we divide the rest, and you choose what you want from it.
They should be remembered with honour or they'll rot from ingratitude. We've got plenty of horses and treasure. You get a tenth of it all — first pick, before we divide the rest among everyone else.
should be honoured or fester ingratitude one tenth treasure horses first choice
Should they not,
Well might they fester ’gainst ingratitude
And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses—
Whereof we have ta’en good and good store—of all
The treasure in this field achieved and city,
We render you the tenth, to be ta’en forth
Before the common distribution
At your only choice.
Thank you, General, but I can't make my heart accept money as payment for what I've done. I refuse it. I stand with the common soldiers who saw the fighting — we share equally.
Thanks, General, but no. I won't take a payment for my sword. I'll take the same share as the regular soldiers — nothing more.
thank you cant consent bribe refuse common part those beheld doing
I thank you, general,
But cannot make my heart consent to take
A bribe to pay my sword. I do refuse it;
And stand upon my common part with those
That have beheld the doing.
A long trumpet flourish sounds. All the soldiers cry 'Martius, Martius!' and throw their caps and spears into the air. Cominius and Lartius stand with their heads uncovered in respect.
Long fanfare. The whole army cheers 'Martius! Martius!' and throws their hats in the air. The commanders bare their heads in respect.
flourish sounds all cry martius caps lances up cominius lartius bare
Too modest are you,
More cruel to your good report than grateful
To us that give you truly. By your patience,
If ’gainst yourself you be incensed, we’ll put you,
Like one that means his proper harm, in manacles,
Then reason safely with you. Therefore be it known,
As to us to all the world, that Caius Martius
Wears this war’s garland, in token of the which
My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him,
With all his trim belonging. And from this time,
For what he did before Corioles, call him,
With all th’ applause and clamour of the host,
Caius Martius Coriolanus! Bear
Th’ addition nobly ever!
You are too modest. Your refusal to accept honour actually harms your reputation more than our gratitude helps us. If you're angry at yourself, I'll have you bound for your own protection, and then we can reason with you calmly. Therefore, let it be known to Rome and the entire world: Caius Martius bears this war's victory crown. My noble horse, known to the entire camp, I give you with all its decoration and equipment. And from this day forward, because of what you did at Corioles, we call you, with the full applause and cheers of the entire army: Caius Martius Coriolanus. Carry this honour nobly forever.
You're being impossible. Your modesty actually hurts your own reputation more than helping us. If you're going to keep rejecting this, I'll have them chain you for your own good. So listen: Caius Martius now wears the victory crown. That's my horse over there, the famous one — it's yours with all the trimmings. From now on, for what you did at Corioles, your name is Caius Martius Coriolanus. Remember that and be proud of it.
too modest cruel your report grateful us if incensed manacles reason safely kaius martius wars garland my steed trim belonging Corioles all applause Coriolanus bear nobly
Caius Martius Coriolanus!
Caius Martius Coriolanus!
Caius Martius Coriolanus!
caius martius Coriolanus CORIOLANUS
I will go wash;
And when my face is fair, you shall perceive
Whether I blush or no. Howbeit, I thank you.
I mean to stride your steed and at all times
To undercrest your good addition
To th’ fairness of my power.
I will go wash myself. When my face is clean, you will see whether I blush or not. However, I thank you. I intend to ride your horse and at all times maintain the honour you've given me, with all the strength I have.
I'm going to get cleaned up. When I wash the blood off, you'll see if I blush. But thanks. I'll ride your horse and wear this title with all the dignity I've got.
i will wash when fair blush or not thank you stride steed all times undercrest good addition fairness power
So, to our tent,
Where, ere we do repose us, we will write
To Rome of our success.—You, Titus Lartius,
Must to Corioles back. Send us to Rome
The best, with whom we may articulate
For their own good and ours.
So, let us go to our tent. Before we rest, we will write to Rome of our success. Titus Lartius, you must return to Corioles. Send us to Rome the best of the captives, with whom we can negotiate for their ransom and for Rome's advantage.
Let's get to the tent. We need to write to Rome about this. Titus, go back to Corioles. Send us the best prisoners so we can negotiate ransoms.
tent write rome success lartius back corioles best captives articulate their good ours
I shall, my lord.
I will, my lord.
I'll do it, sir.
i shall
The gods begin to mock me. I, that now
Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg
Of my lord general.
The gods begin to mock me. I, who just refused the most generous gifts, am now forced to beg of you, my commander.
I feel like the gods are laughing at me. I just turned down treasure, and now I have to ask you for a favour.
gods mock me refused gifts now i beg my general
Take’t, ’tis yours. What is’t?
Take it. It's yours. What do you want?
Take it. It's all yours. What do you need?
take it yours what is it
I sometime lay here in Corioles
At a poor man’s house; he used me kindly.
He cried to me; I saw him prisoner;
But then Aufidius was within my view,
And wrath o’erwhelmed my pity. I request you
To give my poor host freedom.
I once stayed in Corioles at a poor man's house. He treated me with kindness. I saw him cry out when I was taken prisoner, but then Aufidius entered my view and my anger overwhelmed my pity. I ask you: grant this poor man his freedom.
There was this poor guy in Corioles who took me in. He was good to me. I saw him later in prison, crying, but Aufidius showed up and I got distracted by rage. Can you just let him go?
poor mans house kindly used me cried prisoner aufidius view wrath overwhelmed pity freedom him
O, well begged!
Were he the butcher of my son, he should
Be free as is the wind.—Deliver him, Titus.
Oh, beautifully asked! Even if he were the killer of my own son, he would go free like the wind. Release him, Titus.
That's well asked! Even if he killed my son, I'd let him go. Let him free, Titus.
well begged even butcher my son free as wind deliver him
Martius, his name?
What is his name, Martius?
What's his name?
his name martius
By Jupiter, forgot!
I am weary; yea, my memory is tired.
Have we no wine here?
By Jupiter, I forgot! I'm weary and my memory is exhausted. Do we have any wine?
God, I forgot his name! I'm so tired. Is there any wine?
forgot weary memory tired wine here
Go we to our tent.
The blood upon your visage dries; ’tis time
It should be looked to. Come.
Let's go to our tent. The blood on your face is drying; it needs attention. Come.
Let's get to the tent. Your wounds need looking after. Come on.
tent blood visage dries time looked come
The Reckoning
This is the scene where Martius becomes Coriolanus, and it's more complicated than it first appears. He refuses wealth (heroic), he refuses praise (heroic), he asks mercy for an enemy civilian (unexpectedly tender) — and then immediately forgets the man's name because Aufidius crossed his vision. The forgotten name is the scene's quiet knife: a moment of genuine human feeling, instantly consumed by the obsession that defines him.
If this happened today…
A CEO refuses the performance bonus and the naming rights to a new building after his biggest quarter. He says he just did his job. But then he asks one small favour: 'There's a developer who mentored me early on — can we get him a consulting contract?' His assistant asks for the name. He opens his mouth — and his phone lights up with a notification about the rival CEO. He stares at it. He cannot remember the developer's name. That's 1-9.