Chapter XXX: Appendix: B

THE VERBAL RELATIONS OF THE VARIOUS VERSIONS OF PLUTARCH ILLUSTRATED BY MEANS OF VOLUMNIA’S SPEECH

This passage, though it does not show the successive modifications of the text quite so fully and strikingly as some others, is the most interesting in so far as it is the longest in which Shakespeare closely follows the lead of the original.

The Latin version of the Renaissance is placed first, both because in definite form it is chronologically the earliest, and because for the reasons already given it cannot be held to have had much influence on Amyot, North and Shakespeare.

It is of course impossible to reconstruct the Greek text that Amyot put together for himself. I have taken that of the edition of 1599, published half a dozen years after his death, as a fair approximation. The chief variations from the Latin are given in spaced type.

In the extract from Amyot the chief variations from the Greek are printed in Italics; the few phrases or words in which the influence of the Latin may be suspected are underlined.

In the extract from North the chief variations from the French are printed in Italics.

In the extract from Shakespeare, it is, as we might expect, more convenient to reverse the process and italicise what he has taken over.

THE VERSION[276] OF THE ELDER GUARINI, STYLED
GUARINUS VERONENSIS, IN THE EDITION OF THE
_Vitae Parallelae_ ISSUED BY UDALRICUS GALLUS
IN 1470 (?)

Tum pueros ac Vergiliam unacum reliquis secum mulieribus ducens castra Volscorum adiit. Earum miseranda facies hosti reverentiam injecit atque silentium. Hic Martius in suggesto inter Volscorum proceres sedens, ubi eas adventare mulieres vidit, admiratione confectus est, imprimis venientem uxorem noscitans immoto et obstinato persistere animo[277] voluit: verum consternatus affectu et ad ipsarum confusus intuitum haud tulit ut se sedentem adirent,[278] ac pernici devotas gradu obviam prodiit. Et matre primo diutissimeque salutata, inde uxore ac filiis, nullo jam pacto frenare lacrimas poterat. Ut vero dulces incepti sunt amplexus, virum parentis amore perinde ac secundo fluminis cursu deferri cerneres.[279] Caeterum cum inchoantem jam verba matrem intelligeret, acceptis Volscorum primoribus Volumniam talia orantem audivit. “Etsi fili taceamus, ipse, tum veste, tum miseri corporis apparatu, cernis qualem domesticae rei conditionem tuum nobis confecerit exilium. Existima vero quam caeteris longe mulieribus infeliciores accessimus, quibus dulcissimum aspectum fecit fortuna terribilem: te mihi filium, huic vero maritum, patriae muros obsidentem aspicimus. Et quod caeteris calamitatis et malorum solet esse solacium, deos orare, quam procul nobis ablatum est: non enim et patriae victoriam et tibi salutem implorare fas est: quaeque atrociora quispiam nobis impraecaretur hostis, ea nostris insunt[280] praecibus. Uxorem enim ac liberos aut patria aut te orbari necesse est. Ego vero, dum haec viventi mihi bellum dijudicet, haud morabor, teque nisi positis inimicitiis ad pacem atque concordiam conciliavero; ita ut utrique[281] potius beneficum quam alteri perniciosum te reddas. Hoc tibi persuade sicque conformatus et paratus accede, ut non ante hostiles patriae manus conferas quam caesam calcaveris parentem. Nec enim ea mihi expectanda dies est qua filium aut in triumpho tractum a civibus aut de patria triumphantem aspiciam. Quod si pro conservanda patria profligari a te Volscos exorarem, grave fili iniquumque tibi fateor imminere consilium; namque necque cives perdere bonum est, necque tuos commissos fidei perdere justum. Nunc malorum finem imploramus simulque populis utrisque salutem. Quae res maximam Volscis gloriam comparabit: quod cum ingentia nobis bona et victores quidem tribuerint, non minus jocundam ipsi pacem et amicitiam sint consecuturi: quae si effecta fuerint, tu tantorum profecto dux eris et causa bonorum: sin ea infecta permanserint, utrique noxam in te solum crimenque rejicient. Cumque incertus belli sit eventus, hoc certi secum affert: ut siquidem vincas immanissimus patriae vastator appellandus sis, sin victus succumbas, ob tuam videberis iracundiam benefactoribus et amicis ingentium origo malorum extitisse.” Haec dum oraret Volumnia, nullum respondens verbum Martius intentis excipiebat auribus. Ut vero desierat, cum is diuturnum teneret silentium, rursus Volumnia; “Quid siles,” inquit. “Nate, num irae receptarumque injuriarum memoriae omnia concedere satius arbitraris an depraecanti talia matri largiri pulcherrimum munificentiae genus non est? Magnine interesse viri putas acceptorum meminisse malorum? Suscepta autem a parentibus beneficia eorum cultui ac venerationi reddere num excelso potius ac bono dignissimum viro munus censes? Caeterum gratiam habere tuerique magisquam tu debuit nemo, cum tamen per acerbissimam adeo ingratitudinem eas. Et cum permagnas jam patriae paenas exegeris acceperisque, nullas adhuc matri grates retulisti. Erat vero aequissimum atque sanctissimum ut abs te vel nulla ingruenti necessitate tam honesta tamque justa postulans impetrarem. Quid cum in meam te verbis sententiam deflectere nequeam, extremae jam parco spei?” Haec affata cum uxore simul ac liberis pedibus advoluta procumbit. Tum conclamans Martius, “Qualia mihi” ait “factitasti mater”; et jacentem sustulit: et pressa dextera inquit; “Vicisti patriae quidem prosperam, nimis atque nimis perniciosam autem[282] mihi victoriam. Abs te tantum superatus abscedam.”

[276] I have modernised the punctuation, and extended the contractions throughout, but wherever there is any possibility of misinterpretation I have noted it.

[277] aīo.

[278] adiret.

[279] cernēs.

[280] Insinit.

[281] uterque.

[282] _aūt._

PLUTARCH’S GREEK IN THE EDITION OF 1599

Ἐκ τούτου, τά τε παιδία καὶ τὴν Οὐεργιλίαν ἀναστήσασα μετὰ τῶν ἄλλων γυναικῶν, ἐβάδιζεν εἰς τὸ στρατόπεδον τῶν Οὐολούσκων. ἡ δ’ ὄψις αὐτῶν τότε οἰκτρὰν καὶ τοῖς πολεμίοις ἐνεποίησεν αἰδὼ καὶ σιωπήν. ἔτυχε δ’ ὁ Μάρκιος ἐπὶ βήματος καθεζόμενος μετὰ τῶν ἡγεμονικῶν. ὡς οὖν εἶδε προσιούσας τὰς γυναῖκας, ἐθαύμασεν· ἐπιγνοὺς δὲ τὴν γυναῖκα πρώτην βαδίζουσαν, ἐβούλετο μὲν ἐμμένειν τοῖς ἀτρέπτοις ἐκείνοις καὶ ἀπαραιτήτοις λογισμοῖς· γενόμενος δὲ τοῦ πάθους ἐλάττων καὶ συνταραχθεὶς πρὸς τὴν ὄψιν, οὐκ ἔτλη καθεζομένῳ προσελθεῖν, ἀλλὰ =καταβὰς= θᾶττον ἢ βάδην, καὶ ἀπαντήσας, πρώτην μὲν ἠσπάσατο τὴν μητέρα, καὶ πλεῖστον χρόνον, ἔτι δὲ τὴν γυναῖκα καὶ τὰ τέκνα, μήτε δακρύων ἔτι, =μήτε τοῦ φιλοφρονεῖσθαι= φειδόμενος, ἀλλ’ ὥσπερ ὑπὸ ῥεύματος φέρεσθαι τοῦ πάθους ἑαυτὸν ἐνδεδωκώς. =ἐπεὶ δὲ τούτων ἄδην εἶχε=, καὶ τὴν μητέρα βουλομένην ἤδη λόγων ἄρχειν ἤσθετο, τοὺς τῶν Οὐολούσκων προβούλους παραστησάμενος, ἤκουσε τῆς Οὐολουμνίας τοιαῦτα λεγούσης, “Ὁρᾶς μὲν, ὦ παῖ, κᾳν αὐταὶ μὴ λέγωμεν, ἐσθῆτι καὶ μορφῇ τῶν ἀθλίων σωμάτων τεκμαιρόμενος, οἵαν οἰκουρίαν ἡμῖν ἡ σὴ φυγὴ περιποίησε. λόγισαι δὲ νῦν ὡς ἀτυχέσταται πασῶν ἀφίγμεθα γυναικῶν, αἷς τὸ ἥδιστον θέαμα, φοβερώτατον ἡ τύχη πεποίηκεν, ἐμοὶ μὲν υἱὸν, ταύτῃ δ’ ἄνδρα τοῖς τῆς πατρίδος τείχεσιν ἰδεῖν ἀντικαθήμενον. ὃ δ’ ἔστι τοῖς ἄλλοις ἀτυχίας πάσης καὶ κακοπραγίας παραμύθιον, εὔχεσθαι θεοῖς, ἡμῖν ἀπορώτατον γέγονεν. οὐ γὰρ οἷόν τε καὶ τῇ πατρίδι νίκην ἅμα καὶ σοὶ σωτηρίαν αἰτεῖσθαι παρὰ τῶν θεῶν, ἀλλ’ ἅ τις ἄν ἡμῖν καταράσαιτο τῶν ἐχθρῶν, ταῦτα ταῖς ἡμετέραις ἔνεστιν εὐχαῖς. ἀνάγκη γὰρ ἢ τῆς πατρίδος ἢ σου στέρεσθαι γυναικὶ σῇ καὶ τέκνοις. ἐγὼ δ’ οὐ περιμένω ταύτην μοι διαιτῆσαι τὴν τύχην ζώσῃ τὸν πόλεμον· ἀλλ’ εἰ μή σε πείσαιμι φιλίαν καὶ ὁμόνοιαν διαφορὰς καὶ κακῶν θέμενον, ἀμφοτέρων γενέσθαι εὐεργέτην μᾶλλον, ἢ λυμεῶνα τῶν ἑτέρων, οὕτω διανοοῦ καὶ παρασκεύαζε σεαυτὸν, ὡς τῇ πατρίδι μὴ προσμίξαι δυνάμενος πρὶν ἢ νεκρὰν ὑπερβῆναι τὴν τεκούσαν. οὐ γὰρ ἐκείνην με δεῖ τὴν ἡμέραν ἀναμένειν ἐν ᾗ τὸν υἱὸν ἐπόψομαι θριαμβευόμενον ὑπὸ τῶν πολίτων, ἢ θριαμβεύοντα κατὰ τῆς πατρίδος. εἰ μὲν οὖν ἀξιῶ σε τὴν πατρίδα σῶσαι Οὐολούσκους ἀπολέσαντα, χαλεπή σοι καὶ δυσδιαίτητος, ὦ παῖ, πρόκειται σκέψις, οὔτε γὰρ διαφθεῖραι τοὺς πολίτας καλὸν, οὔτε τοὺς πεπιστευκότας προδοῦναι δίκαιον. νῦν δ’ ἀπαλλαγὴν κακῶν αἰτιούμεθα, σωτήριον μὲν ἀμφοτέροις ὁμοίως, ἔνδοξον δὲ καὶ καλὴν μᾶλλον Οὐολούσκοις, ὅτι τῷ κρατεῖν δόξουσι διδόναι τὰ μέγιστα τῶν ἀγαθῶν, =οὐχ ἧττον λαμβάνοντες=, εἰρήνην καὶ φιλίαν, ὧν μάλιστα μὲν αἴτιος ἔσῃ γινομένων, μὴ γινομένων δὲ, μόνος αἰτίαν ἕξεις παρ’ ἀμφοτέροις. ἄδηλος δ’ ὠν ὁ πόλεμος τοῦτ’ ἔχει πρόδηλον, ὅτι σοὶ νικῶντι μὲν, ἀλάστορι τῆς πατρίδος εἶναι περιέστιν· ἡττώμενος δὲ, δόξεις ὑπ’ ὀργῆς εὐεργέταις ἀνδράσι καὶ φίλοις τῶν μεγίστων συμφορῶν αἴτιος γεγονέναι.” ταῦτα τῆς Οὐολουμνίας λεγούσης ὁ Μάρκιος ἠκροάτο μηδὲν ἀποκρινόμενος. ἐπεὶ δὲ καὶ παυσαμένης, εἱστήκει σιωπῶν πολὺν χρόνον, αὖθις ἡ Οὐολουμνία, “Τί σιγᾷς (εἶπεν) ὦ παῖ, πότερον ὀργῇ καὶ μνησικακίᾳ πάντα συγχωρεῖν καλόν; οὐ καλὸν δὲ μητρὶ χαρίσασθαι δεομένῃ περὶ τηλικούτων; ἢ τὸ μεμνῆσθαι πεπονθότα κακῶς ἀνδρὶ μεγάλῳ προσήκει, τὸ δ’ εὐεργεσίας αἷς εὐεργετοῦνται παῖδες ὑπὸ τῶν τεκόντων σέβεσθαι καὶ τιμᾷν, οὐκ ἀνδρὸς ἔργον ἐστὶ μεγάλου καὶ ἀγαθοῦ; καὶ μὴν οὐδενὶ μᾶλλον ἔπρεπε τηρεῖν χάριν ὡς σοι, =πικρῶς οὕτως ἀχαριστίαν ἐπεξίοντι=. καίτοι παρὰ τῆς πατρίδος ἤδη μεγάλας δίκας ἀπείληφας, τῇ μητρὶ δ’ οὐδεμίαν χάριν ἀποδέδωκας. ἦν μὲν οὖν ὁσιώτατον ἄνευ τινος ἀνάγκης τυχεῖν με παρὰ σοῦ δεομένην οὕτω καλῶν καὶ δικαίων· μὴ πείθουσα δὲ τί φείδομαι τῆς ἐσχάτης ἐλπίδος;” καὶ ταῦτ’ εἰποῦσα προσπίπτει τοῖς ποσὶν αὐτοῦ μετὰ τῆς γυναικὸς ἅμα καὶ τῶν τέκνων. ὁ δὲ Μάρκιος ἀναβοήσας, “Οἷα εἴργασαί με, ὦ μᾶτερ;” ἐξανίστησιν αὐτὴν, καὶ τὴν δεξιὰν πιέσας σφόδρα, “Νενίκηκας (εἶπεν) εὐτυχῆ μὲν τῇ πατρίδι νίκην, ἐμοὶ δ’ ὀλέθριον· ἄπειμι γὰρ ὑπὸ σοῦ μόνης ἡττώμενος.”

AMYOT’S VERSION.

_Elle prit sa belle fille_ et ses enfans quand et[283] elle, et avec toutes les autres Dames Romaines s’en alla droit au camp des Volsques, lesquelz eurent eulx-mesmes une compassion meslee de reverence quand ils la veirent _de maniere qu’il n’y eut personne d’eulx qui luy ozast rien dire_. Or estoit lors Martius assis en son tribunal, _avec les marques de souverain Capitaine_,[284] et _de tout loing_ qu’il apperceut venir des femmes, s’esmerveilla que ce pouvoit estre; mais peu apres recognoissant sa femme, qui marchoit la premiere, il voulut _du commencement_ perseverer en son obstinee et inflexible _rigueur_; mais à la fin, vaincu de l’affection naturelle, estant tout esmeu de les voir, il _ne peut_ avoir le _coeur si dur_ que de les attendre en son siege, ains[285] en descendant plus viste que le pas, leur alla au devant, et baisa sa mere la premiere, et la teint assez longuement embrassee, puis sa femme et ses petits enfants, ne se pouvant plus tenir que les _chauldes_ larmes ne luy vinssent _aux yeux_, ny se garder de leur faire caresses, ains se laissant aller à l’affection _du sang_ ne plus ne moins qu’à _la force_ d’un impetueux torrent. Mais apres qu’il leur eut assez faict _d’aimable recueil_, et qu’il apperceut que sa mere Volumnia vouloit commencer a luy parler, il appella les principaux du conseil des Volsques pour _ouyr ce qu’elle proposeroit_, puis elle parla en ceste maniere: “Tu peux assez cognoistre de toy mesme, mon filz, encore que nous ne t’en dissions rien, à voir noz accoustremens, et l’estat auquel sont noz pauvres corps, quelle a esté nostre vie en la maison depuis tu en es dehors; mais considere encore maintenant combien plus _mal heureuses_ et plus infortunees nous sommes icy venues que toutes les femmes du monde, attendu que ce qui est à toutes les autres le plus doulx a voir, la fortune nous l’a rendu le plus effroyable, faisant voir à moy mon filz, et à celle-ci, son mary, assiegeant les murailles de son propre païs; tellement que ce qui est à toutes autres le _souverain_ renconfort en leurs adversitez, de _prier_ et invoquer les Dieux à leur secours, c’est ce qui nous met en plus grande perplexité, pource que nous ne leur sçaurions demander en noz prieres victoire a nostre païs et preservation de ta vie tout ensemble, ains toutes les plus griefves maledictions que sçauroit imaginer contre nous un ennemy sont _necessairement_ encloses en noz oraisons, pource qu’il est force à ta femme et à tes enfans qu’ilz soyent privez de l’un de deux, ou de toy, ou de leurs païs: car quant a moy, je ne suis pas deliberee d’attendre que la fortune, moy vivante, decide _l’issue de ceste guerre_: car si je ne te puis persuader que tu vueilles plus tost bien faire à toutes les deux parties, que d’en _ruiner_ et destruire l’une, en preferant amitie et concorde aux miseres et calamitez de la guerre, je veux bien que tu saches et le tienes pour asseuré que tu n’iras jamais assaillir ny combattre ton païs que premierement tu ne passes par dessus le corps de celle qui t’a mis en ce monde, et ne doy point differer jusques à voir le jour, ou que mon filz _prisonnier_ soit mené en triumphe par ses citoyens, ou que luy mesme triumphe de son païs. Or si ainsi estoit que je te requisse de sauver ton païs en destruisant les Volsques, ce te serait certainement une deliberation trop mal-aisee à resoudre; car comme il n’est point licite de ruiner son païs, aussi n’est-il point juste de trahir ceulx qui se sont fiez en toy. Mais ce que je te demande est une delivrance de maulx, laquelle est egalement _profitable_ et salutaire à l’un et à l’autre peuple, mais plus honorable aux Volsques, pource qu’il semblera qu’ayans la victoire en main, ils nous auront de grace donné deux souverains biens, la paix et l’amitié, encore qu’ilz n’en prennent pas moins pour eulx, duquel tu seras principal autheur, s’il se fait; et, s’il ne se fait, tu en auras seul le _reproche et le blasme_[286] total envers l’une et l’autre des parties: ainsi _estant l’issue de la guerre_ incertaine,[287] cela neantmoins est bien tout certain que, si tu en demoures vaincueur, il t’en restera _ce profit_, que tu en seras estimé la _peste_ et la ruine de ton païs: et si tu es vaincu, on dira que pour un _appetit de venger tes propres injures_ tu auras esté cause de tres griefves calamitez à ceulx qui t’avoient humainement et amiablement recueilly.” Martius escouta ces paroles de Volumnia sa mere sans l’interrompre, et apres qu’elle eut acheve de dire demoura longtemps tout _picqué_ sans luy respondre. Parquoy elle reprit la parole et recommencea à luy dire: “Que ne me respons-tu, mon filz? Estimes-tu qu’il soit licite de conceder tout à son ire et à son appetit de vengeance, et non honeste de condescendre et _incliner_ aux prieres de sa mere en si grandes choses? Et _cuides-tu_ qu’il soit convenable a un grand personnage, se souvenir des torts qu’on luy a faits et _des injures passees_, et que ce ne soit point acte d’homme de bien et de grand cueur, _recognoistre_ les bienfaicts que reçoyvent les enfans de leurs peres et meres, en leur portant honneur et reverence? Si[288] n’y a il homme en ce monde qui deust mieux observer tous les poincts de gratitude que toy, veu que tu poursuis si asprement une ingratitude: et si[289] y a davantage, que tu as ja fait payer a ton païs de grandes amendes pour les torts que l’on t’y a faits, et n’as encore fait aucune recognoissance a ta mere; pourtant seroit-il plus honeste que sans autre contrainte j’_impetrasse_[290] de toy une requeste si juste et si raisonnable. Mais puis que _par raison_ je ne le te puis persuader, à quel besoing espargne-je plus, et _differe-je_ la derniere esperance.” En disant ces paroles elle se jetta elle mesme, avec sa femme et ses enfans, a ses pieds. Ce que Martius _ne pouvant supporter_, la releva tout aussi tost en s’escriant: “O mere, que m’as tu faict?” et un luy serrant estroittement la main droite: “Ha,” dit il, “Mere, tu as vaincu une victoire heureuse pour ton païs mais bien _malheureuse_ et mortelle pour ton filz, car je m’en revois[291] vaincu par toy seule.”

[283] _together with._

[284] A mistranslation of the Greek phrase, μετὰ τῶν ἡγεμονικῶν, from which it must come. The Latin is correct and unmistakable.

[285] But.

[286] Greek αἰτίαν, Latin noxam crimenque.

[287] Latin: cumque incertus belli sit eventus.

[288] Yet.

[289] Yet.

[290] An unusual word in French. Compare the _impetrare_ of the Latin.

[291] ἄπειμι, revais = retourne.

NORTH’S VERSION.

She tooke her daughter in lawe, and Martius children with her, and being accompanied with all the other Romaine ladies, they went _in troupe_ together unto the Volsces camp: whome when they sawe, they of them selves did both pitie and reverence her, and there was not a man amonge them that once durst say a worde unto her. Nowe was Martius set then in his chayer of state, with all the honours of a generall, and when he had spied the women coming a farre of, he marveled what the matter ment: but afterwardes knowing his wife which came formest, he determined at the first to persist in his obstinate and inflexible rancker. But overcomen in the ende with naturall affection, and being altogether altered to see them; his harte _would not serve him_ to tarie their comming to his chayer, but comming down in hast, he went to meete them, and first he kissed his mother, and imbraced her a pretie while, then his wife and litle children. And _Nature so wrought with him_, that the[292] teares fell from his eyes, and he coulde not keepe him selfe from making much of them, but yeelded to the affection of his bloode as if he had bene _violently_ caried with the furie of a most swift running streame. After he had thus lovingly received them, and perceiving that his mother Volumnia would beginne to speake to him, he called the chiefest of the counsell of the Volsces to heare what she would say. Then she spake in this sorte: “If we held our peace, (my sonne) and _determined not to speake_, the state of our poor bodies, and _present_ sight of our rayment, would easely bewray to thee what life we have led at home, since thy exile and abode abroad. But thinke nowe with thy selfe, how much more unfortunatly,[293] then all the women livinge we are come hether, considering that the sight which should be most pleasaunt to all other to beholde, _spitefull_ fortune hath made most fearefull to us: making my selfe to see my sonne, and my daughter here, her husband, besieging the walles of his native countrie. So as that which is thonly comforte to all other in their adversitie and _miserie_, to pray unto the goddes and to call to them for aide; is the _onely_ thinge which _plongeth_ us into most deepe perplexitie. For we can not (alas) together pray, both for victorie, for our countrie, and for safetie of thy life also: but a _worlde_ of grievous curses, _yea more then any mortall_ enemie can heape uppon us, are forcibly wrapt up in our prayers. For the _bitter soppe of most hard choyce_ is offered thy wife and children, to forgoe the one of the two: either to lose the _persone_ of thy selfe, or the _nurse_ of[294] their native contrie. For my selfe (my sonne) I am determined not to tarie, till fortune in my life time do make an ende of this warre. For if I cannot persuade thee, rather to doe good unto both parties than to overthrowe and destroye the one, preferring love and _nature_ before the _malice_ and calamitie of warres: _thou shalt_ see, my sonne, and trust unto it,[295] thou shalt no soner marche forward to assault thy countrie, but thy foote shall treade upon thy mothers _wombe_, that brought thee first into this world. And I maye not deferre to see the daye, either that my sonne be led prisoner in triumphe by his _naturall_ country men, or that he him selfe doe triumphe _of them_, and of his _naturall_ countrie. For if it were so, that my request tended to save thy countrie, in destroying the Volsces: _I must confesse_, thou wouldest hardly and _doubtfully_ resolve on that. For as to destroye thy naturall countrie it is altogether _unmete_ and unlawfull; so were it not just, and _lesse honorable_, to betraye those that put their trust in thee. But my only demaunde consisteth to make a _gayle_[296] deliverie of all evills, which delivereth equall benefit and safety both to the one and the other, but most honorable for the Volsces. For it shall appeare, that having victorie in their hands, they have of speciall favour graunted us singular graces; peace, and amitie, albeit them selves have no lesse parte of both, then we. Of which _good_, if so it came to passe, thy selfe is thonly authour, _and so hast thou thonly honour_. But if it faile, _and fall out contrarie_: thy selfe alone _deservedly_ shall carie the _shameful_ reproche and burden of either partie. So, though the ende of warre be uncertaine, yet this notwithstanding is most certaine: that if it be thy chaunce to conquer, this benefit shalt thou _reape_ of _thy goodly conquest_, to be chronicled the plague and destroyer of thy countrie. And if fortune also overthrowe thee, then the worlde will saye, that through desire to revenge thy private injuries, thou hast _for ever_ undone thy good friendes, who dyd most lovingly and curteously receyve thee.” Martius gave good eare unto his mothers wordes, without interrupting _her speache at all_: and after she had sayed _what she would_, he held his peace a prety while,[297] and annswered not a worde. Hereupon she beganne again to speake unto him, and sayed: “My sonne, why doest thou not aunswer me? Doest thou think it good altogether to geve place unto thy choller and desire of revenge, and thinkest thou it not honestie for thee to graunt[298] thy mothers request in so weighty a cause? doest thou take it honorable for a noble man, to remember the wrongs and injuries done him: and doest not in like case thinke it an honest noble man’s parte, to be thankefull for the goodnes that parents doe shewe to their children, acknowledging the duety and reverence _they ought to beare unto them_?[299] No man living is more bounde to shewe him selfe thankefull in all partes and respects then thy selfe: who so unnaturally sheweth all ingratitude.[300] Moreover (my sonne) thou hast sorely taken of thy countrie, exacting grievous payments apon them, in revenge of the injuries offered thee: besides, thou hast not hitherto shewed thy poore mother any curtesie.[301] And therefore it is _not only_ honest, _but due unto me_, that without compulsion I should obtaine my so just and reasonable request of thee. But since by reason I cannot persuade thee to it, to what purpose do I deferre[302] my last hope?” And with these wordes her selfe, his wife and children fell downe upon their knees before him. Martius seeing that could refraine no longer but _went straight_ and lifte her up, crying out: “Oh mother, what have you done to me?” And holding her hard by the right hand, “Oh mother,” sayed he, “You have wonne a happy victorie for your countrie, but mortall and unhappy for your sonne: for I see[303] myself vanquished by you alone.”

[292] No _chauldes_.

[293] Adverb for adjective, omission of one duplicate.

[294] _of_, appositional.

[295] Not so clear as the French.

[296] gaol.

[297] picqué not translated.

[298] One of Amyot’s duplicates wanting.

[299] Important connective particle omitted.

[300] Quite wrong. The French means: “Since you so bitterly pursue ingratitude.”

[301] In this sentence North again misses the point of the argument. The meaning is “And there is this further point as well, that you have already in a measure requited your wrongs, but never yet shown your gratitude.”

[302] One of Amyot’s duplicate expressions omitted.

[303] A pardonable mistranslation of the French; which, however, proves that in this passage at least North consulted neither the Greek nor the Latin.

SHAKESPEARE’S VERSION.

The narrative which ushers in the speech is of course left to the actors. It is interesting, however, to observe that Shakespeare varies from his authorities in making Coriolanus embrace not his mother but his wife in the first instance. He inserts too the conversation, that, at first merely personal, leads up to the grand question. Then Volumnia proceeds with her speech. It is impossible to note all the minute changes that Shakespeare makes. The Italics in the following reprint represent most generously what he has borrowed, for even in the clauses and phrases indicated as loans there is abundant evidence of his own irrepressible dramatic and poetic originality.

_Vol._ _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 barr’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 thorough 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 cannot 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._
_Vir._ Ay, and mine,
That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name
Living to time.
_Young Mar._ A’ shall not tread on me;
I’ll run away till I am bigger, but then I’ll fight.
_Cor._ Not of a woman’s tenderness to be,
Requires nor child nor woman’s face to see.
I have sat too long. [_Rising._
_Vol._ 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 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.
[_He holds her by the hand, silent._
_Cor._ _O mother, mother!
What have you done?_ Behold, the heavens do ope,
The gods look down, and this unnatural scene
They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O!
_You have won a happy victory to Rome;
But, for your son_,—believe it, O, believe it,
_Most dangerously you have with him prevail’d,
If not most mortal to him._ But, let it come.