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Coriolanus
·I iii 1 ·
Prose
Volumnia ... if my son were my husband, I should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won honour than in the embracements of his bed where he would show most love. When yet he was but tender-bodied and the only son of my womb, when youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way, when for a day of kings' entreaties a mother should not sell him an hour from her beholding, I, considering how honour would become such a person. that it was no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if renown made it not stir, was pleased to let him seek danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child than now in first seeing he had proved himself a man. |
Original: … if my son were my husband, I should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won honour than in the embracements of his bed where he would show most love.
Modern: If my son were my husband, I would be happier about his absence where he wins honor than I would be about holding him in bed where he would show the most love.
Original: When yet he was but tender-bodied and the only son of my womb, when youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way, when for a day of kings’ entreaties a mother should not sell him an hour from her beholding, I, considering how honour would become such a person.
Modern: When he was still young and soft-bodied, my only child, when his youthful good looks drew everyone’s attention, when even if kings begged for a whole day, a mother shouldn’t give up even an hour of watching him, I thought about how honor would suit such a person.
Original: that it was no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if renown made it not stir, was pleased to let him seek danger where he was like to find fame.
Modern: He would be no better than a pretty picture hanging on the wall if fame didn’t make him take action, so I was happy to let him seek out danger where he could find glory.
Original: To a cruel war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows bound with oak.
Modern: I sent him to a brutal war, and he came back with an oak leaf crown on his head.
Original: I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child than now in first seeing he had proved himself a man.
Modern: I’m telling you, daughter, I wasn’t more excited when I first heard I had given birth to a boy than I am now seeing that he has proven himself to be a true man.
In Act I, Scene 3 of Coriolanus, the action shifts to the home of Caius Marcius (later Coriolanus), where his mother Volumnia and his wife Virgilia are engaged in domestic activities. Volumnia is working at her embroidery while expressing her fierce pride in her son’s military prowess and her approval of his warlike nature. She speaks passionately about how she has raised Marcius to be a warrior, declaring that she takes greater pleasure in his honorable scars and victories than she would in the tender embraces of motherhood. Volumnia reveals her belief that military glory and the shedding of blood in service to Rome are the highest virtues a man can possess.
Virgilia, by contrast, appears gentle and worried about her husband’s safety in the current military campaign against the Volscians. She expresses anxiety about Marcius being wounded in battle, but Volumnia dismisses these concerns, arguing that wounds received in honorable service only add to a warrior’s reputation. Their neighbor Valeria arrives to visit and attempts to persuade Virgilia to leave the house and accompany her on social calls, but Virgilia refuses, preferring to remain at home until her husband returns safely from the wars. The scene establishes the strong influence that Volumnia wields over her son’s character and values, while highlighting the contrast between the two women’s attitudes toward war and domestic life.
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.