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Shakespeare's Monologues



Volumnia — “Nay, go not from us thus” — Coriolanus, Act 5, Scene 3, line 148



Coriolanus Play summary   ·V iii 148Scene summary  · Verse
Volumnia

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 received;' 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 wiped it out;
Destroy'd his country, and his name remains
To the 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' the 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' the 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 bands 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 a-fire,
And then I'll speak a little.
Modern paraphrasing 👆 Click for a double-spaced PDF of this monologue

Original: Nay, go not from us thus.
Modern: No, don’t walk away from us like this.

Original: If it were so that our request did tend
Modern: If our request was meant

Original: To save the Romans, thereby to destroy
Modern: To save the Romans and destroy

Original: The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us,
Modern: The Volscians you now serve, then you could blame us

Original: As poisonous of your honour: no; our suit
Modern: For being harmful to your honor. No, our plea

Original: Is that you reconcile them: while the Volsces
Modern: Is that you make peace between them. The Volscians

Original: May say ‘This mercy we have show’d;’ the Romans,
Modern: Can say “We showed mercy,” while the Romans say

Original: ‘This we received;’ and each in either side
Modern: “We received mercy.” Both sides

Original: Give the all-hail to thee and cry ‘Be blest
Modern: Will praise you and shout “Be blessed

Original: For making up this peace!’ Thou know’st, great son,
Modern: For making this peace!” You know, my great son,

Original: The end of war’s uncertain, but this certain,
Modern: War’s outcome is uncertain, but this is certain:

Original: That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit
Modern: If you conquer Rome, the only reward

Original: Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name,
Modern: You’ll get is a reputation

Original: Whose repetition will be dogg’d with curses;
Modern: That will be followed by curses whenever it’s spoken.

Original: Whose chronicle thus writ: ‘The man was noble,
Modern: History will write: “This man was noble,

Original: But with his last attempt he wiped it out;
Modern: But with his final act he destroyed it all.

Original: Destroy’d his country, and his name remains
Modern: He destroyed his country, and his name lives on

Original: To the ensuing age abhorr’d.’ Speak to me, son:
Modern: Hated by future generations.” Speak to me, son.

Original: Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour,
Modern: You’ve always tried to achieve the highest honor,

Original: To imitate the graces of the gods;
Modern: To copy the nobility of the gods.

Original: To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o’ the air,
Modern: To split the sky with thunder,

Original: And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt
Modern: And yet use your lightning bolt

Original: That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak?
Modern: Only to split an oak tree. Why won’t you speak?

Original: Think’st thou it honourable for a noble man
Modern: Do you think it’s honorable for a noble man

Original: Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speak you:
Modern: To keep remembering old injuries? Daughter, you speak.

Original: He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy:
Modern: He doesn’t care about your tears. You speak, boy.

Original: Perhaps thy childishness will move him more
Modern: Maybe your innocence will touch him more

Original: Than can our reasons. There’s no man in the world
Modern: Than our arguments can. There’s no man in the world

Original: More bound to ‘s mother; yet here he lets me prate
Modern: More obligated to his mother, yet here he lets me babble

Original: Like one i’ the stocks. Thou hast never in thy life
Modern: Like a criminal in the stocks. You have never in your life

Original: Show’d thy dear mother any courtesy,
Modern: Shown your dear mother any kindness,

Original: When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood,
Modern: When she, like a mother hen with no other children,

Original: Has cluck’d thee to the wars and safely home,
Modern: Has sent you off to war and welcomed you safely home,

Original: Loaden with honour. Say my request’s unjust,
Modern: Loaded with honor. Tell me my request is wrong

Original: And spurn me back: but if it be not so,
Modern: And reject me. But if it’s not wrong,

Original: Thou art not honest; and the gods will plague thee,
Modern: Then you’re not honest, and the gods will punish you

Original: That thou restrain’st from me the duty which
Modern: For keeping from me the respect

Original: To a mother’s part belongs. He turns away:
Modern: That belongs to a mother. He turns away!

Original: Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees.
Modern: Kneel down, ladies. Let’s shame him by kneeling.

Original: To his surname Coriolanus ‘longs more pride
Modern: His famous name Coriolanus means more pride to him

Original: Than pity to our prayers. Down: an end;
Modern: Than compassion for our prayers. Kneel down. This is the end.

Original: This is the last: so we will home to Rome,
Modern: This is our last attempt. We’ll go home to Rome

Original: And die among our neighbours. Nay, behold ‘s:
Modern: And die among our neighbors. No, look at this:

Original: This boy, that cannot tell what he would have
Modern: This boy, who can’t even say what he wants

Original: But kneels and holds up bands for fellowship,
Modern: But kneels and holds up his hands in friendship,

Original: Does reason our petition with more strength
Modern: Makes a stronger argument for our request

Original: Than thou hast to deny ‘t. Come, let us go:
Modern: Than you have to refuse it. Come, let’s go.

Original: This fellow had a Volscian to his mother;
Modern: This man must have had a Volscian for a mother.

Original: His wife is in Corioli and his child
Modern: His wife is in Corioli, and his child

Original: Like him by chance. Yet give us our dispatch:
Modern: Is like him by accident. Just give us your answer:

Original: I am hush’d until our city be a-fire,
Modern: I’ll stay quiet until our city is burning,

Original: And then I’ll speak a little.
Modern: And then I’ll have a few words to say.

In Act V, Scene 3 of “Coriolanus,” Coriolanus stands with the Volscian army outside Rome when his mother Volumnia, his wife Virgilia, his son Young Martius, and his friend Valeria approach to plead with him. Despite his initial resolve to remain unmoved, Coriolanus is visibly shaken by their presence. Volumnia leads the appeal, delivering an impassioned speech in which she argues that his attack on Rome will destroy both his family and his honor, leaving him remembered either as Rome’s conqueror or its destroyer. She presents the agonizing position of his family, caught between their love for him and their loyalty to Rome, and insists that if he proceeds, he must first trample over her body.

After Volumnia and the women kneel before him in supplication, Coriolanus can no longer maintain his resolve. He yields to their entreaties, acknowledging that his mother’s words have won for Rome what his military might could not. He agrees to arrange a peace between Rome and the Volscians, though he recognizes this decision will likely prove dangerous for him personally. The women depart triumphantly while Aufidius, observing from the side, notes that Coriolanus’s capitulation has given him the opportunity he needs to move against him. Coriolanus then prepares to return to the Volscian city of Corioles with Aufidius to negotiate the peace treaty.

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.