Let them pull all about mine ears, present me
Death on the wheel or at wild horses’ heels,
Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock,
That the precipitation might down stretch
Below the beam of sight, yet will I still
Be thus to them.
Let them pull all about mine ears, present me Death on the wheel or at wild horses’ heels, Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, That the precipitation might down stretch Below the beam of sight, yet will I still Be thus to them.
Let them pull all about mine ears, present me Death on the wheel or at wild horses’ heels, Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, That the precipitation might down stretch Below the beam of sight, yet will I still Be thus to them.
let them pull all about mine ears, present me death on the w
You do the nobler.
You do the nobler.
You do the nobler.
you do the nobler.
I muse my mother
Does not approve me further, who was wont
To call them woollen vassals, things created
To buy and sell with groats, to show bare heads
In congregations, to yawn, be still, and wonder
When one but of my ordinance stood up
To speak of peace or war.
I muse my mother Does not approve me further, who was wont To call them woollen vassals, things created To buy and sell with groats, to show bare heads In congregations, to yawn, be still, and wonder When one but of my ordinance stood up To speak of peace or war.
I muse my mother Does not approve me further, who was wont To call them woollen vassals, things created To buy and sell with groats, to show bare heads In congregations, to yawn, be still, and wonder When one but of my ordinance stood up To speak of peace or war.
i muse my mother does not approve me further, who was wont t
O, sir, sir, sir,
I would have had you put your power well on
Before you had worn it out.
O, sir, sir, sir, I would have had you put your power well on Before you had worn it out.
O, sir, sir, sir, I would have had you put your power well on Before you had worn it out.
o, sir, sir, sir, i would have had you put your power well o
Let go.
Let go.
Let go.
let go.
You might have been enough the man you are
With striving less to be so. Lesser had been
The thwartings of your dispositions if
You had not showed them how ye were disposed
Ere they lacked power to cross you.
You might have been enough the man you are With striving less to be so. Lesser had been The thwartings of your dispositions if You had not showed them how ye were disposed Ere they lacked power to cross you.
You might have been enough the man you are With striving less to be so. Lesser had been The thwartings of your dispositions if You had not showed them how ye were disposed Ere they lacked power to cross you.
you might have been enough the man you are with striving les
Let them hang!
Let them hang!
Let them hang!
let them hang!
Ay, and burn too.
Ay, and burn too.
Ay, and burn too.
ay, and burn too.
Come, come, you have been too rough, something too rough.
You must return and mend it.
Come, come, you have been too rough, something too rough. You must return and mend it.
Come, come, you have been too rough, something too rough. You must return and mend it.
come, come, you have been too rough, something too rough. yo
There’s no remedy,
Unless, by not so doing, our good city
Cleave in the midst and perish.
There’s no remedy, Unless, by not so doing, our good city Cleave in the midst and perish.
There’s no remedy, Unless, by not so doing, our good city Cleave in the midst and perish.
there’s no remedy, unless, by not so doing, our good city cl
Volumnia's insistence that Coriolanus can go to the Forum and perform respect for the people is the most crucial moment in the play because it forces a choice: either compromise your integrity or lose everything. Volumnia believes in compromise — the idea that you perform respect while maintaining internal contempt, that you act gentle while remaining rigidly yourself. But Coriolanus understands something she doesn't: that performance isn't separate from self. If you perform contempt, you are contemptuous. If you perform respect, you must feel it, or the performance collapses. Volumnia wants her son to split himself in half — public self and private self — but he's constitutionally incapable of this split. By Act 5, when he does try to perform respect (this time for Aufidius and the Volscians), it will destroy him completely.
Pray be counselled.
I have a heart as little apt as yours,
But yet a brain that leads my use of anger
To better vantage.
Pray be counselled. I have a heart as little apt as yours, But yet a brain that leads my use of anger To better vantage.
Pray be counselled. I have a heart as little apt as yours, But yet a brain that leads my use of anger To better vantage.
pray be counselled. i have a heart as little apt as yours, b
Well said, noble woman.
Before he should thus stoop to th’ herd—but that
The violent fit o’ th’ time craves it as physic
For the whole state—I would put mine armour on,
Which I can scarcely bear.
Well said, noble woman. Before he should thus stoop to th’ herd—but that The violent fit o’ th’ time craves it as physic For the whole state—I would put mine armour on, Which I can scarcely bear.
Well said, noble woman. Before he should thus stoop to th’ herd—but that The violent fit o’ th’ time craves it as physic For the whole state—I would put mine armour on, Which I can scarcely bear.
well said, noble woman. before he should thus stoop to th’ h
What must I do?
What must I do?
What must I do?
what must i do?
Return to th’ Tribunes.
Return to th’ Tribunes.
Return to th’ Tribunes.
return to th’ tribunes.
Well, what then? What then?
Well, what then? What then?
Well, what then? What then?
well, what then? what then?
Repent what you have spoke.
Repent what you have spoke.
Repent what you have spoke.
repent what you have spoke.
For them? I cannot do it to the gods.
Must I then do’t to them?
For them? I cannot do it to the gods. Must I then do’t to them?
For them? I cannot do it to the gods. Must I then do’t to them?
for them? i cannot do it to the gods. must i then do’t to th
You are too absolute,
Though therein you can never be too noble
But when extremities speak. I have heard you say
Honour and policy, like unsevered friends,
I’ th’ war do grow together. Grant that, and tell me
In peace what each of them by th’ other lose
That they combine not there.
You are too absolute, Though therein you can never be too noble But when extremities speak. I have heard you say Honour and policy, like unsevered friends, I’ th’ war do grow together. Grant that, and tell me In peace what each of them by th’ other lose That they combine not there.
You are too absolute, Though therein you can never be too noble But when extremities speak. I have heard you say Honour and policy, like unsevered friends, I’ th’ war do grow together. Grant that, and tell me In peace what each of them by th’ other lose That they combine not there.
you are too absolute, though therein you can never be too no
Tush, tush!
Tush, tush!
Tush, tush!
tush, tush!
A good demand.
A good demand.
A good demand.
a good demand.
If it be honour in your wars to seem
The same you are not, which for your best ends
You adopt your policy, how is it less or worse
That it shall hold companionship in peace
With honour as in war, since that to both
It stands in like request?
If it be honour in your wars to seem The same you are not, which for your best ends You adopt your policy, how is it less or worse That it shall hold companionship in peace With honour as in war, since that to both It stands in like request?
If it be honour in your wars to seem The same you are not, which for your best ends You adopt your policy, how is it less or worse That it shall hold companionship in peace With honour as in war, since that to both It stands in like request?
if it be honour in your wars to seem the same you are not, w
Why force you this?
Why force you this?
Why force you this?
why force you this?
Because that now it lies you on to speak
To th’ people, not by your own instruction,
Nor by th’ matter which your heart prompts you,
But with such words that are but rooted in
Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables
Of no allowance to your bosom’s truth.
Now, this no more dishonours you at all
Than to take in a town with gentle words,
Which else would put you to your fortune and
The hazard of much blood.
I would dissemble with my nature where
My fortunes and my friends at stake required
I should do so in honour. I am in this
Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles;
And you will rather show our general louts
How you can frown than spend a fawn upon ’em
For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard
Of what that want might ruin.
Because that now it lies you on to speak To th’ people, not by your own instruction, Nor by th’ matter which your heart prompts you, But with such words that are but rooted in Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables Of no allowance to your bosom’s truth. Now, this no more dishonours you at all Than to take in a town with gentle words, Which else would put you to your fortune and The hazard of much blood. I would dissemble with my nature where My fortunes and my friends at stake required I should do so in honour. I am in this Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles; And you will rather show our general louts How you can frown than spend a fawn upon ’em For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard Of what that want might ruin.
Because that now it lies you on to speak To th’ people, not by your own instruction, Nor by th’ matter which your heart prompts you, But with such words that are but rooted in Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables Of no allowance to your bosom’s truth. Now, this no more dishonours you at all Than to take in a town with gentle words, Which else would put you to your fortune and The hazard of much blood. I would dissemble with my nature where My fortunes and my friends at stake required I should do so in honour. I am in this Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles; And you will rather show our general louts How you can frown than spend a fawn upon ’em For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard Of what that want might ruin.
because that now it lies you on to speak to th’ people, not
Noble lady!—
Come, go with us; speak fair. You may salve so,
Not what is dangerous present, but the loss
Of what is past.
Noble lady!— Come, go with us; speak fair. You may salve so, Not what is dangerous present, but the loss Of what is past.
Noble lady!— Come, go with us; speak fair. You may salve so, Not what is dangerous present, but the loss Of what is past.
noble lady!— come, go with us; speak fair. you may salve so,
I prithee now, my son,
Go to them with this bonnet in thy hand,
And thus far having stretched it—here be with them—
Thy knee bussing the stones—for in such busines
Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th’ ignorant
More learned than the ears—waving thy head,
Which often thus correcting thy stout heart,
Now humble as the ripest mulberry
That will not hold the handling. Or say to them
Thou art their soldier and, being bred in broils,
Hast not the soft way, which thou dost confess
Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim,
In asking their good loves; but thou wilt frame
Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far
As thou hast power and person.
I prithee now, my son, Go to them with this bonnet in thy hand, And thus far having stretched it—here be with them— Thy knee bussing the stones—for in such busines Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th’ ignorant More learned than the ears—waving thy head, Which often thus correcting thy stout heart, Now humble as the ripest mulberry That will not hold the handling. Or say to them Thou art their soldier and, being bred in broils, Hast not the soft way, which thou dost confess Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim, In asking their good loves; but thou wilt frame Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far As thou hast power and person.
I prithee now, my son, Go to them with this bonnet in thy hand, And thus far having stretched it—here be with them— Thy knee bussing the stones—for in such busines Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th’ ignorant More learned than the ears—waving thy head, Which often thus correcting thy stout heart, Now humble as the ripest mulberry That will not hold the handling. Or say to them Thou art their soldier and, being bred in broils, Hast not the soft way, which thou dost confess Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim, In asking their good loves; but thou wilt frame Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far As thou hast power and person.
i prithee now, my son, go to them with this bonnet in thy ha
This but done
Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours;
For they have pardons, being asked, as free
As words to little purpose.
This but done Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours; For they have pardons, being asked, as free As words to little purpose.
This but done Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours; For they have pardons, being asked, as free As words to little purpose.
this but done even as she speaks, why, their hearts were you
Prithee now,
Go, and be ruled; although I know thou hadst rather
Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf
Than flatter him in a bower.
Prithee now, Go, and be ruled; although I know thou hadst rather Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf Than flatter him in a bower.
Prithee now, Go, and be ruled; although I know thou hadst rather Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf Than flatter him in a bower.
prithee now, go, and be ruled; although i know thou hadst ra
Scene 3-2 is crucial because it establishes that what Rome is asking of Coriolanus is not a small thing — it's not just 'be polite to people you disagree with.' It's a complete performance of humility, respect, and deference to an authority (the people) that he regards as illegitimate. A modern parallel: asking a revolutionary to go on television and praise the system he's trying to overthrow. The request itself is a betrayal of principle. What makes 3-2 so effective is that Volumnia knows this, and commands it anyway. She's not naive — she's ruthless. She sees her son's authenticity as a failure of discipline, a kind of spoiled refusal to do what's necessary. She loves him; she's also willing to sacrifice his integrity to save his life. And he, briefly, agrees. But the agreement is already hollow. By the time he reaches the Forum, his contempt for the ritual — and for those participating in it — will break through again.
I have been i’ th’ marketplace; and, sir, ’tis fit
You make strong party or defend yourself
By calmness or by absence. All’s in anger.
I have been i’ th’ marketplace; and, sir, ’tis fit You make strong party or defend yourself By calmness or by absence. All’s in anger.
I have been i’ th’ marketplace; and, sir, ’tis fit You make strong party or defend yourself By calmness or by absence. All’s in anger.
i have been i’ th’ marketplace; and, sir, ’tis fit you make
Only fair speech.
Only fair speech.
Only fair speech.
only fair speech.
I think ’twill serve, if he
Can thereto frame his spirit.
I think ’twill serve, if he Can thereto frame his spirit.
I think ’twill serve, if he Can thereto frame his spirit.
i think ’twill serve, if he can thereto frame his spirit.
He must, and will.—
Prithee, now, say you will, and go about it.
He must, and will.— Prithee, now, say you will, and go about it.
He must, and will.— Prithee, now, say you will, and go about it.
he must, and will.— prithee, now, say you will, and go about
Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce? Must I
With my base tongue give to my noble heart
A lie that it must bear? Well, I will do’t.
Yet, were there but this single plot to lose,
This mould of Martius, they to dust should grind it
And throw’t against the wind. To th’ marketplace!
You have put me now to such a part which never
I shall discharge to th’ life.
Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce? Must I With my base tongue give to my noble heart A lie that it must bear? Well, I will do’t. Yet, were there but this single plot to lose, This mould of Martius, they to dust should grind it And throw’t against the wind. To th’ marketplace! You have put me now to such a part which never I shall discharge to th’ life.
Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce? Must I With my base tongue give to my noble heart A lie that it must bear? Well, I will do’t. Yet, were there but this single plot to lose, This mould of Martius, they to dust should grind it And throw’t against the wind. To th’ marketplace! You have put me now to such a part which never I shall discharge to th’ life.
must i go show them my unbarbed sconce? must i with my base
Come, come, we’ll prompt you.
Come, come, we’ll prompt you.
Come, come, we’ll prompt you.
come, come, we’ll prompt you.
I prithee now, sweet son, as thou hast said
My praises made thee first a soldier, so,
To have my praise for this, perform a part
Thou hast not done before.
I prithee now, sweet son, as thou hast said My praises made thee first a soldier, so, To have my praise for this, perform a part Thou hast not done before.
I prithee now, sweet son, as thou hast said My praises made thee first a soldier, so, To have my praise for this, perform a part Thou hast not done before.
i prithee now, sweet son, as thou hast said my praises made
Well, I must do’t.
Away, my disposition, and possess me
Some harlot’s spirit! My throat of war be turned,
Which choired with my drum, into a pipe
Small as an eunuch or the virgin voice
That babies lulls asleep! The smiles of knaves
Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys’ tears take up
The glasses of my sight! A beggar’s tongue
Make motion through my lips, and my armed knees,
Who bowed but in my stirrup, bend like his
That hath received an alms! I will not do’t,
Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth
And, by my body’s action, teach my mind
A most inherent baseness.
Well, I must do’t. Away, my disposition, and possess me Some harlot’s spirit! My throat of war be turned, Which choired with my drum, into a pipe Small as an eunuch or the virgin voice That babies lulls asleep! The smiles of knaves Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys’ tears take up The glasses of my sight! A beggar’s tongue Make motion through my lips, and my armed knees, Who bowed but in my stirrup, bend like his That hath received an alms! I will not do’t, Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth And, by my body’s action, teach my mind A most inherent baseness.
Well, I must do’t. Away, my disposition, and possess me Some harlot’s spirit! My throat of war be turned, Which choired with my drum, into a pipe Small as an eunuch or the virgin voice That babies lulls asleep! The smiles of knaves Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys’ tears take up The glasses of my sight! A beggar’s tongue Make motion through my lips, and my armed knees, Who bowed but in my stirrup, bend like his That hath received an alms! I will not do’t, Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth And, by my body’s action, teach my mind A most inherent baseness.
well, i must do’t. away, my disposition, and possess me some
At thy choice, then.
To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour
Than thou of them. Come all to ruin. Let
Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear
Thy dangerous stoutness, for I mock at death
With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list.
Thy valiantness was mine; thou suck’dst it from me,
But owe thy pride thyself.
At thy choice, then. To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour Than thou of them. Come all to ruin. Let Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear Thy dangerous stoutness, for I mock at death With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list. Thy valiantness was mine; thou suck’dst it from me, But owe thy pride thyself.
At thy choice, then. To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour Than thou of them. Come all to ruin. Let Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear Thy dangerous stoutness, for I mock at death With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list. Thy valiantness was mine; thou suck’dst it from me, But owe thy pride thyself.
at thy choice, then. to beg of thee, it is my more dishonour
Pray, be content.
Mother, I am going to the marketplace.
Chide me no more. I’ll mountebank their loves,
Cog their hearts from them, and come home beloved
Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going.
Commend me to my wife. I’ll return consul,
Or never trust to what my tongue can do
I’ th’ way of flattery further.
Pray, be content. Mother, I am going to the marketplace. Chide me no more. I’ll mountebank their loves, Cog their hearts from them, and come home beloved Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going. Commend me to my wife. I’ll return consul, Or never trust to what my tongue can do I’ th’ way of flattery further.
Pray, be content. Mother, I am going to the marketplace. Chide me no more. I’ll mountebank their loves, Cog their hearts from them, and come home beloved Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going. Commend me to my wife. I’ll return consul, Or never trust to what my tongue can do I’ th’ way of flattery further.
pray, be content. mother, i am going to the marketplace. chi
Do your will.
Do your will.
Do your will.
do your will.
Away! The Tribunes do attend you. Arm yourself
To answer mildly, for they are prepared
With accusations, as I hear, more strong
Than are upon you yet.
Away! The Tribunes do attend you. Arm yourself To answer mildly, for they are prepared With accusations, as I hear, more strong Than are upon you yet.
Away! The Tribunes do attend you. Arm yourself To answer mildly, for they are prepared With accusations, as I hear, more strong Than are upon you yet.
away! the tribunes do attend you. arm yourself to answer mil
The word is “mildly.” Pray you, let us go.
Let them accuse me by invention, I
Will answer in mine honour.
The word is “mildly.” Pray you, let us go. Let them accuse me by invention, I Will answer in mine honour.
The word is “mildly.” Pray you, let us go. Let them accuse me by invention, I Will answer in mine honour.
the word is “mildly.” pray you, let us go. let them accuse m
Ay, but mildly.
Ay, but mildly.
Ay, but mildly.
ay, but mildly.
Well, mildly be it, then. Mildly.
Well, mildly be it, then. Mildly.
Well, mildly be it, then. Mildly.
well, mildly be it, then. mildly.
The Reckoning
Scene 3-2 is the play's emotional centre: the moment where Coriolanus is forced to choose between integrity and survival, and chooses neither. He agrees to act gentle and conciliatory to the people — but he will do it like an actor playing a part, not like a man genuinely changing his mind. Volumnia's argument — that he can preserve his real nature while performing gentleness — will prove impossible. You cannot play contempt while pretending respect. The scene shows the limits of Volumnia's power: she can force his compliance, but she cannot make him capable of the performance she's demanding.
If this happened today…
A mother tells her son: you just blew your job offer because you were rude. Go back, apologize, be nice, show respect. The son says: I can't fake it, I hate them. The mother says: fake it. Do it for me. He says okay. But they both know he's terrible at lying. He agrees to try but the second he walks into that room, his contempt will show. And it will.