这一段基本上将军只有1句台词。。。全是妈妈在百般劝诱
(Should we be silent and not speak,
our raiment And state of bodies would bewray what life We have led since
thy exile. Think with thyself How more unfortunate than all living women
Are we come hither; since that thy sight, which should Make our eyes
flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts, Constrains them weep and
shake with fear and sorrow, Making the mother, wife, and child, to see The
son, the husband, and the father, tearing His country's bowels out. And to
poor we Thine enmity's most capital: thou bar'st us Our prayers to the gods,
which is a comfort That all but we enjoy. For how can we, Alas, how can
we for our country pray, Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory,
Whereto we are bound? Alack, or we must lose The country, our dear
nurse, or else thy person, Our comfort in the country. We must find An
evident calamity, though we had Our wish, which side should win; for
either thou Must as a foreign recreant be led With manacles through our
streets, or else Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin, And bear the
palm for having bravely shed Thy wife and children's blood. For myself,
son, I purpose not to wait on fortune till These wars determine; if I can not
persuade thee Rather to show a noble grace to both parts Than seek the
end of one, thou shalt no sooner March to assault thy country than to
tread- Trust to't, thou shalt not- on thy mother's womb That brought thee to
this world.
Ay, and mine, That brought you forth this boy to
keep your name Living to time.
BOY. 'A shall not tread on me! I'll run
away till I am bigger, but then I'll fight.)
Not of a woman's
tenderness to be Requires nor child nor woman's face to see. I have sat too
long.
(Nay, go not from us thus. If it were so that
our request did tend To save the Romans, thereby to destroy The Volsces
whom you serve, you might condemn us As poisonous of your honour. No,
our suit Is that you reconcile them: while the Volsces May say 'This mercy
we have show'd,' the Romans 'This we receiv'd,' and each in either side
Give the all-hail to thee, and cry 'Be blest For making up this peace!' Thou
know'st, great son, The end of war's uncertain; but this certain, That, if
thou conquer Rome, the benefit Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a
name Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses; Whose chronicle thus
writ: 'The man was noble, But with his last attempt he wip'd it out,
Destroy'd his country, and his name remains To th' ensuing age abhorr'd.'
Speak to me, son. Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour, To imitate
the graces of the gods, To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' th' air, And
yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt That should but rive an oak. Why dost
not speak? Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man Still to remember
wrongs? Daughter, speak you: He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou,
boy; Perhaps thy childishness will move him more Than can our reasons.
There's no man in the world More bound to's mother, yet here he lets me
prate Like one i' th' stocks. Thou hast never in thy life Show'd thy dear
mother any courtesy, When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood, Has
cluck'd thee to the wars, and safely home Loaden with honour. Say my
request's unjust, And spurn me back; but if it be not so, Thou art not
honest, and the gods will plague thee, That thou restrain'st from me the
duty which To a mother's part belongs. He turns away. Down, ladies; let us
shame him with our knees. To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride
Than pity to our prayers. Down. An end; This is the last. So we will home
to Rome, And die among our neighbours. Nay, behold's! This boy, that
cannot tell what he would have But kneels and holds up hands for
fellowship, Does reason our petition with more strength Than thou hast to
deny't. Come, let us go. This fellow had a Volscian to his mother; His wife
is in Corioli, and his child Like him by chance. Yet give us our dispatch. I
am hush'd until our city be afire, And then I'll speak a little. )