Original: Come, leave your tears: a brief farewell: the beast
Modern: Stop crying now: this goodbye must be short: the monster

Original: With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother,
Modern: With many heads pushes me out. No, mother,

Original: Where is your ancient courage? you were used
Modern: Where is that old courage of yours? you used

Original: To say extremity was the trier of spirits;
Modern: To say that extreme hardship tests a person’s character;

Original: That common chances common men could bear;
Modern: That ordinary challenges could be handled by ordinary men;

Original: That when the sea was calm all boats alike
Modern: That when the sea was calm, all boats equally

Original: Show’d mastership in floating; fortune’s blows,
Modern: Showed skill in staying afloat; but fate’s hardest blows,

Original: When most struck home, being gentle wounded, craves
Modern: When they hit hardest, if endured with grace, require

Original: A noble cunning: you were used to load me
Modern: Noble skill and wisdom: you used to fill me

Original: With precepts that would make invincible
Modern: With teachings that would make undefeatable

Original: The heart that conn’d them.
Modern: The heart that learned and remembered them.

Original: What, what, what!
Modern: Wait, wait, wait!

Original: I shall be loved when I am lack’d. Nay, mother.
Modern: I’ll be appreciated when I’m missed. Come on, mother.

Original: Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say,
Modern: Bring back that attitude you used to have, when you would say,

Original: If you had been the wife of Hercules,
Modern: If you had been married to Hercules,

Original: Six of his labours you’ld have done, and saved
Modern: You would have completed six of his tasks yourself, and saved

Original: Your husband so much sweat. Cominius,
Modern: Your husband all that effort. Cominius,

Original: Droop not; adieu. Farewell, my wife, my mother:
Modern: Don’t lose hope; goodbye. Farewell, my wife, my mother:

Original: I’ll do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius,
Modern: I’ll succeed still. You old and loyal Menenius,

Original: Thy tears are salter than a younger man’s,
Modern: Your tears are saltier than a younger man’s,

Original: And venomous to thine eyes. My sometime general,
Modern: And harmful to your eyes. My former general,

Original: I have seen thee stem, and thou hast oft beheld
Modern: I have seen you stand firm, and you have often witnessed

Original: Heart-hardening spectacles; tell these sad women
Modern: Terrible sights that harden the heart; tell these sad women

Original: ‘Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes,
Modern: It’s foolish to cry over unavoidable blows,

Original: As ‘tis to laugh at ‘em. My mother, you wot well
Modern: Just as foolish as it is to laugh at them. My mother, you know well

Original: My hazards still have been your solace: and
Modern: My dangers have always been your comfort: and

Original: Believe’t not lightly—though I go alone,
Modern: Don’t take this lightly—though I go by myself,

Original: Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen
Modern: Like a solitary dragon, whose swamp

Original: Makes fear’d and talk’d of more than seen—your son
Modern: Makes him more feared and talked about than actually seen—your son

Original: Will or exceed the common or be caught
Modern: Will either surpass the ordinary or be captured

Original: With cautelous baits and practise.
Modern: By clever traps and trickery.

In Act IV, Scene iii of “Coriolanus,” a Roman informer named Nicanor encounters Volscian spy Adrian on a road between Rome and Antium. The two men recognize each other as intelligence operatives working for opposing sides. Nicanor reveals significant news from Rome: the plebeians and patricians are at odds with each other, and most remarkably, Coriolanus has been banished from the city. He explains that the nobility attempted to defend Coriolanus against the tribunes and the common people, but were unsuccessful in preventing his exile.

Adrian expresses surprise and satisfaction at this intelligence, noting that the Volscians have been preparing their forces and are ready to take advantage of Rome’s internal division. Nicanor provides further details about the political chaos in Rome, explaining that the dissension between the classes has created an opportune moment for a Volscian military strike. Adrian indicates he must report this valuable information to the Volscian leadership immediately, as it presents the perfect circumstances for them to move against Rome while the city is weakened by civil strife. The two spies part ways, each having gained useful intelligence from their chance meeting.

Coriolanus tells the tragic story of a Roman military hero whose pride and contempt for the common people ultimately leads to his downfall. The play opens with Roman citizens rioting over grain shortages, angry at the patrician class’s indifference to their suffering. Caius Marcius, a fierce Roman general, successfully leads the siege against the Volscian city of Corioles, earning the honorary name “Coriolanus.” Despite his military prowess, he openly despises the plebeians (common citizens) and reluctantly agrees to seek the consulship only at his mother Volumnia’s urging.

When Coriolanus runs for consul, he must follow tradition by displaying his war wounds to the citizens and asking for their votes. Though initially successful, the tribunes Brutus and Sicinius manipulate the fickle crowd against him, exploiting his arrogant nature and aristocratic disdain. When Coriolanus explodes in rage against the people’s ingratitude and the democratic process itself, he is banished from Rome. His famous response - “I banish you!” - reveals his wounded pride and inability to bend to political necessity.

In exile, Coriolanus seeks out his former enemy Aufidius, leader of the Volscians, and offers to help destroy Rome in revenge. Together they march on the city with devastating success. As Rome faces imminent destruction, various delegations plead with Coriolanus to spare the city, but he remains unmoved until his mother Volumnia, wife Virgilia, and young son appear before him. In the play’s climactic scene, Volumnia’s emotional appeal finally breaks through his resolve, and he agrees to make peace - knowing this decision will likely cost him his life. True to expectation, Aufidius and his conspirators kill Coriolanus for his “betrayal,” viewing his mercy toward Rome as weakness and treachery to their cause.