Coriolanus Act 2.3.2 & 2.3.3

Scene 2.3.2

The Humility

Menenius arranged on Coriolanus appearance at the market place with elaborate setup on the hero. He wanted the Commoners to see the humble side of Coriolanus; one that he had partaken many times during his campaigns. He had hugged, kissed and even offer face resuscitation once on a drowning child of the Commoners; the last was a given opportunity by the grace of the Gods timed for perfection. He won naturally with his highest count and labeled as the Caring Consul, and branded behind his back; the Carious Cur. He cared not for he was to be Consul.

Menenius had the hero dressed down in a woolen frock that may place him in a more humble frame before the Commoners. He even gave the hero sandals instead of his favored boots, with a worn heel; that he himself had worn out with his previous campaigns. The Commoners needed to see a Roman Hero and not a Noble with the distinction of being a hero.

They paraded on the streets; not on wheels but on their feet. They smiled and patted the backs of the children who came to see their hero, and hugged the silly looking wenches who treasured the warmth of the hero would stayed till their bedtime.

“Here he comes, and in the gown of humility: mark his behavior.” The general mass commented. “We are not to stay away, but to come by him where he stands, by ones or two’s or by three’s.”

Coriolanus with the direction of Menenius had won the hearts of the Commoners during that walk. Their walk came to an end when they retreated to the sanctuary of the nearest cafe. Behind the safe walls of the cafe, the hero shed his frock, and sat down to enjoy a drink not withstanding that he had his hands washed beforehand in perfumed soap. Menenius plod himself next to the hero; like flies attracted to the food in offer.

“Have you not known the worthiest men have done it?” Menenius sighed in delight. His charade; pardon my humble writings; it was the well choreographed moves of the older man that made the event a success.

“What must I say?” Coriolanus looked to his sides lest there was someone eavesdropping on them. “I pray, sir. Plague upon them. I cannot bring my tongue to such a pace.”

“Look, Sir, my wounds!” Coriolanus displayed his chest when he drew the frock aside. “I got them in my country’ 

service, when some brethren roared and ran from the noise of our own guns.”

“O, me. You must not speak of that.” Menenius pulled himself upright. “You must desire them to think upon you.”

“Think upon me! Hang them! I would they forget me, like the virtues which our divines lose by them.”

“You marred all.” Menenius spoke out in exasperation. “I will leave you; pray that you speak to them. I pray in wholesome manner.”

 

Scene 2.3.3

The Humility

“He seats himself in the café. We must visit him.” The earlier quorum of eight Commoners spoke among themselves. 

“Who among us would be level headed to speak to him?”

“I would.” The Seamstress replied and dragged the key maker along. The duo paraded into the café and asked to meet the hero. Coriolanus heard their request and signaled the café staff.

“Bid them wash their faces, and keep their teeth clean.” Coriolanus conveyed the staff to tell them, but they had approached his table.

“You know the cause of my standing here.” Coriolanus asked.

“We do, sirs; tell us what hath brought you to it?” The seamstress asked of the hero.

“Mine own desert.” Coriolanus held out his arms as if to hug them but in reality, he was to mean he deserved it all for his deeds. The desert he was too re-claimed and made well for himself was how he perceived the coming role.

“Your own desert?” The Seamstress was confused by his words, lest his meaning to her was more vague.

“Aye, but not mine own desire.” Coriolanus replied

“How not your own desire?” The lady asked once more.

“No, sir. It was never my desire yet to trouble the poor with my begging.” Coriolanus turned his face away. He was vain in his character.

“You must think, if we give you anything, we hope to gain from you.”

“Well then, what is the price of Consulship to you?” Coriolanus snapped back. He was spending too much of his time here.

“The price is asking it kindly…” The lady in a lowering tone.

“Kindly, sir. Let me have it, I have wounds to show you,” Coriolanus winked at her. “Which shall be yours in private?”

“Your good words, worthy sir.” Coriolanus moved his attention to the key maker. “There are two worthy voices begging. I will hear your pleas.”

It was then another two more of the Commoners who had stroked up the courage to see the hero. Coriolanus saw the two and scowl on his words.

“Pray you now if it may stand with the tune of your voices that I may be consul, I have donned the customary gown.” 

Coriolanus twitched his nose if the gown was ever washed. He smiled that he had smell worse in his battle fatigues from the long wear.

“You have deserved nobly of your country, and you have not deserved nobly.” The newly arrived spoke. He was a tutor of the children and knew how they should behave.

“Your enigma?” Coriolanus frowned his eye brows at the Commoners.

“You have been a scourge to her enemies; you have been a rod to her friends.” Who else but a tutor may know how it was to temper a class of misfits. “You have not indeed loved the Commoners.”

“You should account me more virtuous, that I have not been common in my love.” Coriolanus glared at the Commoners. 

“I will, sir, flatter my sworn brother, the …people to earn a dearer estimation of them.”

The tired warrior paused in his words. He felt bitterness to speak yet he must be heard.

“It a condition they account gentle: and the wisdom of their choice is rather to have my hat than my heart, I will practice this insinuating nod.” Coriolanus got up and mocked a bow to them. “That is, sir, I will counterfeit the bewitchment of some popular man, and give it bountiful to the desirers.”

“Therefore, I beseech you that I may be Consul.”

“We hope to find you our friend; and therefore give you our voices heartily.” The last of arrivals spoke up. He was a former trooper who had served under Coriolanus but the battle wounds had retired him. Coriolanus looked to the one who spoke. He was a Commoner in the worn battle fatigues and missing an arm. He recognized neither the man nor his 

rank, for there were many he had encountered; friendly and enemies.

“You have received many wounds for your country.” Coriolanus complimented the other for his serving as one warrior to another. “I will not seal your knowledge with showing mine. I will make made much of your voice, and so trouble you no farther.”

Coriolanus acknowledged the deeds of his fellow warrior, and agreed to be their humble voice. He then bid them farewell so he may end the charade. They left him to his own.

“Most sweet voices! Better it’s to die than to starve,” a warrior’ wishes indeed. “Then crave the hire which first we do deserve. Why in this ‘woolvish toga’?” Coriolanus pulled at the gown. “Should I stand here, to beg Peter and Dick that do appear their needless vouches?”

“Custom calls me to do it. What custom wills, in all thing should we do it, that dust on antique time would lie upswept, and mountainous error be too highly heaped for to overpeer.” Coriolanus lament on the traditions that irk him. “Let the high office and the honor go to one that would do thus. I am half through: the one part suffered the other will I do.”

His thoughts were interrupted by three more of the Commoners. They had discussed the deeds of his and had come to addressed him once more. He looked to them and grimed his teeth lest he speak out of line but his mind bespoke well of was in him; ‘Here comes more voices.’

“Your voices,” Coriolanus spoke out. “For your voices I have fought; watched for your voices; for your voices bear of wounds two dozen old; battle thrice six I have seen, and heard of; for your vices ….Pardon me, I meant voices have done many things, some less and some more.”

Coriolanus smiled. He had used that in one of his speech when the troopers had a lower perception of the battle outcome. It worked then and may work here.

“Your voices! Indeed I would be Consul.”

“He had done nobly, and cannot go without any honest man’s voice.” The tutor spoke out for the bully in the class. A nitwit but a leader nevertheless, we cannot be choosy when leadership was needed. .

“Therefore let him Consul: the Gods give him joy, and make him friend of the Commoners.” The key maker voiced out. He was after all a follower. They all cheered to the announcement although the key maker was not their leader, or was he a bully before.