Next chapter podcasts. Ready to launch your business? Get started with the commerce platform made for entrepreneurs. Shopify is specially designed to help you start, run, and grow your business with easy, customizable themes that let you build your brand. Marketing tools that get your products out there. Integrated shipping solutions. Sign up for your $1 a month trial at shopify.com.
Hi, I'm Michael Goodfriend, executive producer of the Play On Podcasts. We've got an incredible series that's just about ready to launch called Run, Boy, Run, written by the brilliant Enfoniso Adolfia and produced in conjunction with Boston's Huntington Theater. We're also putting the finishing touches on our next Shakespeare series, Timon of Athens, which I cannot wait to share with you.
While all of that is in the works, I thought now might be a good time to drop one of our previous released series at the top of the PlayOnPodcast feed. Palmer Heffern. is a phenomenal sound designer and composer who created the score for the Play On podcast series Coriolanus, translated by Sean San Jose and directed by Kate Wisniewski with an all-female cast.
When this year's nominees for the Tony Awards were announced, we at Next Chapter Podcast were overjoyed to learn that Palmer's name is on the list of nominees for Best Sound Design for her work on the play John Proctor is the Villain. Palmer's work as a sound designer has been heard at practically every theater you can think of across the United States. She's been nominated for and won numerous awards, including the Obie, Tony, Helen Hayes, Henry Hughes, and more.
You can hear how skillfully she weaves the sound and music throughout this relentlessly gripping story, especially as it's presented here. uninterrupted in its entirety. I hope you'll enjoy Palmer Heffern's work as we celebrate her achievements in sound design. I love knowing what you think of the work we're doing, so as always, don't hesitate to get in touch with me.
My email address is michael at nextchapterpodcasts.com. And please rate, review, and subscribe to the Play On Podcasts. Your participation makes it possible for us to create more incredible work. And now, here's the Play On Podcast series Coriolanus, designed by Tony nominee Palmer Heffrin in its entirety. Next Chapter Podcast presents the Play On Podcast series... Coriolanus. For the best listening experience, be sure to use headphones or earbuds. Your friends close and your enemies closer.
are ready to just die before starving to death? First, you all know Pius Martius is the chief enemy of the people. Let's kill him! And we can have corn at our price! Is that a plan? Fellow citizens, we are counted as the poor citizens by the aristocracy's wealth. The excesses they spill out could fill us all.
provide for us just their surplus while still fresh we could say they acted humanely but they think we are too much the depths of our poverty the bane of our misery and inventory of their overabundances suffering fills them up let's avenge this using our clubs before we become sticks the gods know i say this hungry for bread not thirsty for revenge will you make your specific target caius martius He is a dog to the common people. Won't you consider what he has done for his country?
Yes, very well, and I would be good to give a great review for his work. Work that he pays himself by feeding his pride. Hey, no need to speak so viciously. He's been a good soldier. I'll say to you, what he has done so famously, he did for the- that fame alone. Though those of more generous conscience can contentedly say it was for their country, he did it to please his mother and to feel proud of himself, which he is to heights above his own skills.
What he cannot help in his nature, you can count as a vice of his. But you can't go so far as to say he's greedy. Oh, if I can't say that, I won't lack other accusations against him, for he does have his faults in excess and on and beyond. What's the shouting for? The other half of the city is rising up. What are we doing arguing here? Let's go to the capital. Come on, come on, come on. Wait, who's coming?
Guards dismissed. Good Meninius Agrippa, one who's always loved the people. He is honest enough. I wish everyone else were. What's that, my people in your hands? Where are you off with bats and clubs? What's happened? Speak, please. Our business is known by the Senate. They've had ideas lately about what we intend to do, and now we will show them in actions.
They say poor peoples have strong breath. They'll find out we have strong arms, too. Now, maestros, my good friends, my honest neighbors, will you do yourselves in? We cannot, man. We are all ready.
done in friends all giving is taken by the rich with all your wants with all your suffering in this wasteland you may as well swing at the heavens with your clubs then strike them out against rome whose way of forcing their will on folks is by cracking ten thousand of stronger pieces in two that forever will land in your way. For this imbalance, the gods, not the rich, make it so. And you put your knees to them, not your arms for help.
Oh, no. You are sent forth by disaster to where more greets you. Yet you slander the heads of state who care for you like fathers, and then you curse them as enemies. Care for us? Truth is they never cared for us. Make us suffer starving with their stores crammed with foods. Make mandates for loans on the lender's side. Every day repeal any wholesome act against the rich and provide more piercing statutes daily to chain up and restrain the poor. If the wars don't eat us, they will.
And there's all the love they bear us. Either you must admit you are full of malice or are plain reckless. I will serve you a story that fits. Maybe you heard it. but it tips the scale so I will venture to weigh it again. Well, I'll hear it, man. Yet you mustn't think to pawn off our shames with a story. But if you wish, speak.
There was a time when all the body's parts rebelled against the belly, then accused it. And just like a gut, it remained the body's, idle and inactive, always hoarding the food, never getting... giving effort like the rest, while other organs all did see, hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, and participating all together, they gave care to the appetite and all shared affection for the whole body. The belly answered. Well then, what did the belly answer? I will tell you.
If you'll grant a bit of what you have little, patience, you must hear the belly's answer. You're very long with it. Grant me this, friend. It was your own belly who's deliberate, not rash like his accusers. And so answered.
True is it my incorporate friends he said that it's I receiving all the food first Which you all live on and write it is so because I am the storehouse and the shop of the whole body But, if you do remember, I send it through the rivers of your blood, even to the court, the heart, to the seed of the brain, and through the channels and roads of man, the strongest nerves and smallest... low veins that receive their full supply all through me all they live by and to you all at once
You, my friends, all this the belly says. Yes, yes, yes. Okay, okay, okay. Hear me. Though you all at once can't see what I do deliver out to each, yet I can do accounting, and prove all receive their flower full for you of all, and leave me with the husks. Now what to say? It was an answer. What does it give us? The senators of Rome are this good belly, and you the mutinous organs. Now examine their counsels and their cares. Digest things fully.
Touching the welfare of all, you will find no public benefit to be received, but it proceeds or comes from them to you, and in no way from you all. What do you think? You, the great toe of its assembly. Me, the great toe. Why a great toe? For that, being one of the lowest, basest, poorest of this wise rebellion, you are leading. You hound dog, lowest ranked blood to run. You race forward first to win some leverage.
But get your battle clubs and bats ready. Rome and her rats are too ready to battle, so one side will feel the beating. Hello. What's the matter, you motley crew? What? Rubbing the poor itch of your opinion? Make yourself scabs? We wait on your good word. The one who freely offers good words to you will only flatter beyond abhorring. What is it you wish for, you dogs, who like neither peace nor war? One scary...
you, the other makes you complacent. To trust you is to look for lions and to find hares and for foxes, geese. You are not steady, no. No more than a coal of fire upon ice or hail in the sun. Whoever depends on your favors swims with fins of lead and chops down oaks with moss. So trust you, hang you. With every minute you change your mind and call Noble now, who was just your foe, call villain your hero. What are they asking? For a free rate on all corn that they say the city is full of.
Hang them, they say. They'll sit round the fire and act like they know what's done in the capital, who is to rise, who thrives, and who declines, take sides, and give out projected alliances, making parties strong and weakening those not standing their way beneath their be- eaten shoes. They say there's full grain. If the nobility would drop their pity and let me use my sword, I'd make a quarry with thousands of these quarter dogs as high as I could pitch my spear.
No, they are almost completely persuaded. And even though they do lack discretion, still they are cowardly. But I do ask, what happens with the other folks? Disbanded. Hang them! They said they were starved, gasped out proverbs, that hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat, that meat was made for mouths, that the gods didn't send corn for just the rich alone with these bits they vented their complaints then being answered and granted a petition a strange one
to break the heart of generosity and make bold power bare, they threw their caps as they would hang them on the horns of the moon, shouting down nobles. What were they granted? Five. representatives to defend their crude minds, whomever they choose. One's Junius Brutus, one's Sassinius Volutus, all I know. Gods! The rabble should have torn open the whole city before overcoming me. It will in time win more power and build greater debates for Insurrection's case. This is quite strange. Go!
Go on home, you pack of odd bits! Where's Caius Martius? Here, what's the matter? The news is, sir, the Volskys are armed. Then we'll dump upon them these filthy unwanted. Move aside. Move aside. Look, our leaders. Cecinius. Sir. Brutus. Caminius. Aninius. Titus Larchus. Yes, sir. Well met. Martius, it's true what you've just now been told. The Volskys are armed. They have a leader.
Tullus Ophidius, that will put you to it. I sin in envying his nobility, and if I were anything but who I am, I'd wish I were him. You have fought each other. Were half the world against the other half, were he on my side, I'd revolt if only to make war with him. He is a lion that I am proud to hunt. Then, eager Martius, head now with Cominius to these wars. It is your stated promise. Man, it is. Yes, and I am consistent.
We will accompany you to the capital, where I know our best allies will greet us. Now, citizens, to your homes! Be gone! No! Let them f- No! The Volskis have so much corn! Take these rats there to not their grains, noble mutineers. Your valor puts you in line. Please, follow. Brutus, a word. Was there ever a man so bold as Martius? Truly, Sassinius, he has no equal. When we were choosing tribunes for the people? You noted his lip and eyes?
No, just his taunts. Angered, he will even scoff at the gods. Mock the modest moon. These wars devour him. He's been so valiant it's grown his pride too great. Such a being. Tickled with good success, scorns the shadow he treads on at noon. But I do wonder, can his insolence endure the command of Cominius? Fame to the height he aims.
The kind he has already graced cannot be held on to or gained greater than by any less than the top. Because whatever misfires, the people will then cry out of Martius. Oh, if he were in charge. Let's go and hear how their management is made, and in what ways, more than his individuality, he goes about in this present manner. Let's join them.
is, Ophidius, that in Rome they know our council's plans and can predict our moves? Don't you think that? That they've been plotting to mount an attack on this state before vulnerable Rome had prepared protection? It's not four days since I heard them. These are the words. I think I have the letter here. Yes, here it is. They have gathered an army.
but it is not clear whether marching east or west. The scarcity is great, the people mutinous, and it is rumored Cominius, Martius, your old enemy, who is hated worse than even you in Rome. Martius. And Titus Lartius, a very brave Roman, these three lead on this power wherever it heads, most likely to you, heed this letter.
Army's in the field. We never doubted, but Rome's been ready to answer us. Nor did you think it dumb to not hide your plans while waiting for Rome to show themselves at the right time, and while hatching Rome has been revealed. With this now, our time is even tighter. Our plan to take on many towns, but before Rome can know we are readying. Now, Ophidius, take your task. Go quickly to your troops. Leave us here to guard Coriolis.
If they camp outside here, counter them by bringing your army. But I think you'll find they're not prepared for us. Do not doubt it. I speak with certainty. No more. Some of their forces are ahead already and only coming closer. I leave you now. If, by chance, we cross Caius Martius, it's sworn between us we will strike and strike till we can do no more. The gods assist you. And keep you all safe. Be well.
Please, dear daughter, sing, or let us seem more cheerful. If my son were my husband... I would more freely revel in his absence, remembering our last embrace, together in bed where he shows the most love. When he was not yet born, and only my son inside the womb, when the beautiful youth cast all gazes his way, when this mother would not give an hour away from holding him.
I wondered then how honor would come to this being. He'd be no greater than his picture on the wall if glory did not ignite him. So I was happy to let him seek out danger in the greater chance he'd find his fame. To the cruel war I sent him, where he returned his head and circled in crowns of victory. But if he died in the battle, madam, what then? Ha! Then his reputation in war would become my son. In those, I would have found his descendants.
Hear me attest openly. If I had a dozen sons, I would love them alike, and none less dear than your and my good marshes. I would rather have eleven die nobly for their country than one live effortlessly out of action. Madam? The Lady Valeria is here to visit you. Please, allow me to go off to retire alone. You really shouldn't. I think that is your husband's drum coming. watch him pull Ophidius down by the hair like children fleeing a bear of the Volskys.
I can see him stump so and call so. Come on, you cards. You were born in fear, though you were born in Rome. His bloody brow with his bandaged hand wiping. His bloody brow? Oh, dear. No blood. Go away, you child. Blood covers a man more than gold gilds a trophy. Oh, even Hecuba's bosom did not look lovelier than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood. with contempt at Grecian swords. Tell Valeria we are ready to welcome her. Yes, madam. Heavens, bless him against ruthless Aphidias.
He'll beat Ophidius' head below his knee and tread upon his neck. My ladies, good day to you both. Sweet madam! I am happy to see you, dear lady. How is your little son? I thank your dear lady. Well, good madam. He would rather see and hear soldiers in battle than listen to his schoolmaster. Oh my word, his father's son. I swear, he is a very pretty boy.
Truly, we just spent a half hour on Wednesday together. He has such a determined demeanor. I saw him run after a gilded butterfly, and when he caught it, he let it go again. and after it again and over and over he comes and up again catches it again whether falling down enraged him or however it was he did set his teeth and tear into it I swear how he broke it apart. He has his father's nature. Indeed, yes, a good child. A little devil, madam. Come.
Put your sewing aside. No, dear madam. I will not be going out. Not going out? She will, she will. Really? No, if you would. I'll not cross that threshold till my husband returns from the wars. Oh, you confine yourself so unreasonably. But, dear madam, pardon me. Really? I will not be going. Really? Yes. Go with me. And I'll tell you some excellent news about your husband. Oh, dear madam, there cannot be any yet. Truthfully, I am not playing with you. News came about him last night.
Truly, madam? In earnest, it's true. I heard a senator say it. This is it. The Volskys have an army coming, and General Cominius has gone with them with part of our Roman power. Your lord and Titus Lartius are settled in their city of Coriolis. They do not doubt. They will prevail and will make wars brief. This is true on mine honor, and so I say, come with us.
I'll bet you they have battled. My horse to yours? No. It's done. Bet. So, has our general met with the enemy? They can see each other, but have not spoken yet. Yeah, your horse is mine. I'll buy him from you. No, I won't sell or give him. I'll lend him to you. How far away are these armies? We're within a mile and a half. Then we will hear their calls and they will hear ours.
By the gods of war, pray, let us be quick. We with steaming swords may march forward to help our friends in the field. Sound the alarm! for our warning. Scale up now! hearts more proven than shields. Go, Larchus. Yeah! They just so loathed beyond our imagining half the sweating wrath. Come, my soldiers. Whoever retreats, I'll take him for Ovolski, and he will... I feel my blade. Oh, how you run from asses that apes would beat! I leave my foe to make my wars on you! Look at! It's not me. Not me.
What has happened to Martius? Slain man, no doubt. Following the fleers at their very heels, he enters with them, who then suddenly clapped shut their gates. He is now all alone to answer all- Oh, dear man, who sensibly outdares his senseless sword, and when it bows, stands up. You have lost, Martius. A grand diamond as big as you are is not so rich a jewel. You were a soldier, even in the censure's eye, fierce and terrible, not only in strokes, but in your grim looks.
and the thunder-like percussion of your sound, you made your enemies shake as if the world were feverish and trembled. Yes, breathe, my friends. Well fought. We've come off like Romans, neither foolish in our stances nor cowardly in rest. Believe me, sirs, we will be charged again. fear that does appear like he were flayed. Oh gods, he has the stamp of Martius, and I have previously seen him so.
Am I too late? Yes. If you're not covered in others' blood, but clothed in your own. Where is the enemy? Are you lord of the field? If not, why stop until you are that then? Martius, we have fought at disadvantage and did retreat, gaining our goal. How do their troops stand? Do you know which side their trusted soldiers stand?
As I guess, Martius, their bands in the forefront are the anti-aits, and the most trusted aphidious commands. I do implore you... from all the battles we have fought, from blood we have shed together, by the vows we have made to remain as friends, that you send me straight against Ophidius and his antiates. Though I could wish you would be guided to a gentle bath with bombs applied to you No, I never dare deny your asking Take your choice of men that will best aid your aims
My work has not even warmed me. Farewell. No, my bloodletting is more curative than dangerous to me. I'm off to Ophidius to soon appear and fight. Ophidius, for I do hate you worse than a promise breaker. We hate alike, Martius. Gorgon doesn't even own a snake I abhor more than your envied fame. fight. He who budges first dies the other's dogs and the gods doom him after. If I fly, Martius, chase me like a cat.
Inside of three hours, Tullus, I alone fought in your Coriolis walls and gained my goals. It is not my blood that you see me masked in. For your revenge, rent your power to the highest. Were you the bully Hector? The root of your bragging ancestry? You would not escape me here. with your damned helping me.
Check out the podcasts at Broadway Radio. Broadway Radio creates podcasts for all sorts of theater fans, industry insiders, super fans, people just looking to stay in touch with what is happening in the theater world. Broadway Radio has podcasts for you. Today on Broadway comes out every morning, Monday through Friday, with 20 minutes of news about Broadway and the larger theater community. On Sunday...
This Week on Broadway is a one-hour show that reviews Broadway, Off-Broadway, and beyond. Broadway Radio also has special shows added into their schedule all the time. so that you never have to go without a theater podcast. Their newest show, This Week in Theater, focuses on theater beyond New York, with reports from all over the U.S. reaching the best of the regions.
Their team of 10 hosts will bring you closer to the theater than you have ever been. You can check out all of their shows at broadwayradio.com or wherever you get your podcasts. If I told you of this day's battling, you'd not believe your deeds. But I'll report it. where senators will mingle tears with smiles, where great noblemen will listen and shudder then marvel, where ladies will be shocked and happily tremble here more.
where the dull tribunes with the musty commoners who hate your honors will say, holding their hearts, we thank the gods our Rome has such a soldier. Please now, no more- My mother, who has a birthright to exalt her kin, when she praises me, it grieves me. I have done as you have done. That's what I can. Inspired as you've been for my country. You will not be the grave of your deserved due. Rome must know the value of her own. It'd be a concealment worse than a theft.
no less than slanderous to hide your deeds and to silence that which, to their peak of praises attested, would even seem modest. So I beg you, as a sign of what you are, not to reward what you have done. Before our army, hear me. I do have some wounds on me and they smart to hear themselves remembered. If they were, they might fester against ingratitude and tent themselves with death. Of all the horses, we've taken good ones and good many.
Of all the treasure in this city we have gathered, we furnish you to the tenth to take reward before the common distribution at your choosing. I thank you, General, but cannot make my heart consent to take a bribe to pay for my sword. I refuse and stand with my common share with those who have witnessed the doing.
More ships! More ships! More ships! May these same instruments you desecrate not sound again. When these drums and trumpets play to flattery, let courts and cities be made all of false... faced pleasing when steel grows soft as the parasite silk. Let it be made into an armor for wars. No more, I say.
just cause i haven't wiped my bloody nose or defeated some wretch which unnoticed many others have done you shout for me in accolades full of hyperbole as if i loved my small d to be fed in praises soft with lies Too modest are you. More cruel to your good report than grateful to us who give it true. Some patience, hmm? If you get incensed at yourself, we'll put you like one who means to harm himself in manacles, and then safely speak with you. So, know it!
As to us, to all the world, that Caius Martius wears this war's garland. As a grand token, My grand stallion, let the camp know I give him with all the trappings. And from now, for what he did before Corilus... Call him with all the applause and uproar given Caius Marcius Coriolanus. We're the added title nobly, always. I will go wash, and when my cheeks are clean, you will discern if I blush or not. No matter, I thank you.
The gods begin to mock me. I, having refused your princely gifts, am about to beg of you, my general. Ask. It's yours. What is it? Sometime I stayed in Coriolis at a poor man's house. He was kind to me. He cried out to me. I saw him jailed. But then Phidias took my focus, and Wrath overtook my pity. I request you. To give my poor host his freedom. Strong case. If he were the butcher of my son, he'd be as free as the wind. Free him, Larchus. What is his name? Um...
I am worn, yes. To my memory is tired. Then to our tent, where before we rest we will write to Rome of our success. Town's taken. Oh, it'll be given back in favorable condition. Condition? If I were a Roman, but I can't be. Being a Volskay, be what I am. Condition? What good condition can a treaty find on the side of the defeated? Five times, Martius, I fought you. As many times, you've beat me.
And would do again, I think, if we met as often as we ate. By the forces! If we meet again, beard to beard, he's mine or I am his. My desire doesn't hold the honor it once had. Where I'd wished to crush him on equal ground, true sword to sword, I'll steal from him some way. Or wrath or craft will get him. He's the devil. Bolder, but not so subtle. My bravery's poisoned, eclipsed only by him. Wherever I find him.
At home, under my brother's guard, even there, against the law of decency, I would wash my fierce hand in his heart. Go to the city. Find out how it's being held and who are now the hostages for Rome. I will, sir. Brutus? Ascinius? Meninius. The soothsayer foreshadows there will be news tonight. Good or bad? Not in favor of the peoples. They hold no love for Martius. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. Say then, who does the wolf love? The lamb. Yes, to devour him.
as the hungry people would feast on deer marshes. He's a lamb, really, who bawls like a bear. He's really a bear that lives like a lamb. You two are wise men. Answer me this one question I have. All right, sir. All right. What quality does Martius greatly lack that you two have aplenty? He's poor in not one fault, but is armed with them all. Especially in pride. And topping all others in boasting. This is strange now.
Do you two know how judged you are here in the city? I mean by us, on the right side of the fight. Do you? Why are we judged? How? Because you're talking about pride now. You won't be angry, will you? Okay. Yes, sir. Okay. Well, not much is needed to get you angry. You blame Martius for being proud. We are not alone in it, sir. I know.
can do very little alone. You need help with so much. Without it your actions would be so little. Your capabilities are too infantile for doing much alone. You talk of pride. Oh, if you could see from the napes of your necks and view yourselves from the inside. Oh, I wish you could. What then, sir? Why, then you would discover a pair of proud, impetuous, violent... ornery tribunes or fools as any in Rome. Come on, sir.
Come on, we know you well enough. Meninius, you are well known too. You don't know me, yourselves, or anything. Your only ambitions are to have the poor bow their caps and knees to you. Come on! Come on, you are better sitting in a bar than a judge sitting on the bench at the Capitol. Even our priests would be insulting if they had to engage with a pair as ridiculous as you two.
Still, you keep saying Martius is too proud, who, estimating conservatively, is worth all your predecessors since Zeus. But... Maybe the best of your lot were hangmen through the generations. Good night now to your worships. Any more of your talk would infect my brain, you herdsmen of the beastly commoners. I must leave you two.
You, my fair noble ladies, if the moon were earthbound, she would not be more noble. And to where are you hurrying? Honorable Meninius, my boy Martius is arriving. For the love of gods, let's go. Martius is coming home? Yes, dear Menenius, and with enormous successes. Take my hat, gods. I give you thanks. Oh, Martius is coming home? Oh, yes.
It's true. Look, here's a letter from him. The state has one, his wife another one, and I think there's one at home for you. Well, that will make my house thrilled tonight. A letter for me? Yes, for certain there's a letter for you. I saw it. A letter for me? That will extend my life another chapter, and I'll only laugh at my doctor's surprise. He isn't wounded.
It's his practice to come home wounded. Oh, no, no, no. Oh, yes, he is wounded. I thank the gods for it. I do, too, if they're not too bad. He carries back victory in his pocket, wounds... follow on his forehead Meninius. his third time home wearing the victory garland. Has he beaten Ophidius soundly? Titus Luscious writes that they fought each other, but Ophidius got away. And it was time for him.
too, I'll guarantee that. If he had stayed trying to fight, you could not see anyone so affidiously beaten for all the gold armor in Coriolis. Is the Senate informed of all this? Oh, my ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes. The Senate have received letters from the General. In it, he gives my son full credit and honor for the war. He has outdone his previous battles twofold. Truly.
Wonderful things are being said about him. Wonderful! Yes, I swear to you, and he deserves everything. Gods make it true. True? Of course they're true. True? I can swear they're true. Where is he wounded? In the shoulder and in the left arm. There will be large scars to show the people when it stands in recognition. He received seven body wounds defeating King Tarquin one in the neck and two in the thigh That's nine I count he had before these wars
25 wounds on him. Now it's 34. Every gash an enemy's grave. Hear the trumpets. These are the ushers for Martius. Before him he carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears. Death, that dark spirit, in his sinewy arm, which he raises and drops, and then men... Die. Rome! Know this, that all alone, Martius fought inside Coriolis Gates. All alone, Martius fought inside Coriolis Gates. Where he has won with fame.
Add a name to Marcius Caius. Add a name to Marcius Caius. Now follows the honor Coriolanus. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus. It goes against my spirit. Please now, no more. Look, sir, your mother. Oh, you have, I know, petitioned all the gods for my well-being. No, my good soldier, up. My gentle Martius, worthy Caius, and from your deeds, with honor, now newly named, what is it? Coriola...
Janus, I should call you. Oh, but oh yes, your wife. Here. Oh, my quiet grace. Would you laugh if I was in a coffin, since you weep at my triumph now? Oh dear. Crying eyes are for cryoless widows and mothers losing sons. Now the gods crown you. And you're still alive? I don't know what to do. Oh, welcome home. And welcome, general. And you're welcome all.
Your hand, mother, and yours, my quiet grace. Before I truly return home and rest, I must pay visit to our city nobles, who have given me this homecoming here, and to these added honors. I have lived. to see my very wishes realized and manifested just as I envisioned. Yet there's one thing lacking which I do not doubt our Rome will create for you. Know this, dear mother. I'd rather serve them in my way than sway others in their ways. On! To the capital!
Every mouth saying his name and the blind becoming bespectacled to see him. The babbling nurse lets her baby cry into eternity while she talks of him. The kitchen maid pins her finest rags around her messy neck, climbing over walls to see him. Shops, signs, storefronts are covered up. Leaky roofs filled in each and every way, all attempting intensely to see him. Our cloistered priests place themselves with the common masses and gasp for air, fighting for a spot.
Ladies in veils committing sins against their own skins. Sacrifice their pale, now bare cheeks. Risk being kissed by the sun god. What uproar! As if the gods who guide him were slyly stolen into his human self and gave him this divine power. Shortly he will be part of the consul. But to our office could lose power then. He can't so easily translate victories from the battlefield to console. If so, he'll lose all he's won. Some consolation. Don't...
doubt the commoners, who we represent, that their long-held loathing of him will be forgotten. Lest of all his new-laid honors, which will fill him with such pride, I don't question to taunt them as consul. I heard him swear if he stood on console, he would never be seen inside the common marketplace or ever wear poor gowns of the people. Nor would he dare show off his victory wounds to the people to beg approval. Yes.
It was his word. Oh, he'd rather forego office if it came from the lot of our common folk and not his nobles. I'd hope he hold that intent and put it into fast action. It is most likely he will. Then he will lead and follow to our wish and to his certain end. So it will fall on his demise, or our power does die. We must... Remind the people of the hate he still holds for them. Were he in power, he'd have them for his mules. Silence their pleas, evicting all their freedoms.
freezing their natural ability and human spirit to become soulless as beasts, like camels carried in war whose sole purpose is for bearing burdens and vicious blows that weigh under them. What's the matter now? You are asked for in the capital. It is thought that marshes... We'll be consul. I've seen the mute crowd go see him and the blind hear him speak. Matrons flung their gloves, ladies and maids their scarves and handkerchiefs falling as he passed.
The nobles knelt like to Jove's statue, and the common folk showered and thundered with their caps and shouts. Never saw a thing like it. The capital. And keep our ears and eyes in the moment, but hearts on the plan. We are agreed. You're at ease. Come, come, they are almost here. How many are being considered for consul ships? Three, they say. If it is believed of any, it will be Coriolanus. Oh, that's a brave man.
But he's proud in the extreme, and has no love for the common people. In truth, there have been many great men who have flattered the people and still never loved them. And there have been many that the people have loved, but they don't know why. So if they don't know who or why they love, they hate in the same way. Then, for Coriolanus to not care whether they love or hate him shows he knows their likes and dislikes and, out of his own indifference, lets them see that clearly.
If he didn't care whether he had their love or not, he would not waver between doing them either good or harm. But he pushes their hate with greater intensity than they can return to him. And he does all he can to reveal himself as their enemy. Sir, he has served his country worthily, and his rise has not been with such easy steps as those so compliant and serving to the powers that be.
He has so firmly planted his honors in their eyes and placed his actions in their hearts, for their tongues to be silent and not confess as much would be a kind of ungrateful insult. Ah, no more about him. He is a worthy man. Make way. They're coming. Whom do you see? The tribunes of the people, Sassinius and Brutus, the elders, good Meninius, Cominius the consul, and yes, oh, Coriolanus himself. Attention! Yep.
Deciding about the Volskys, most revered and grave elders, please allow the present consul, Cominius, the general of our last battles, to allow report on some of that work by Martius Caius Coriolanus, who we have called before the Tribunes to both thank for his valorous duty and to bestow him due honors. Speak, Cominius. Leave nothing out for brevity's sake. Let us solve how Rome can reward him in full, not how to report less. Voice of the people.
we do request your kindest ears and after your influence on the common people to accept what's stated here. We're gathered to discuss a matter, and we stay amenable to honor and push the cause of our assembly. Which, yes, we would be happy to oblige if he can remember to value the people more than he has before. Off point!
off point. I prefer you'd stayed silent. Please now, will you hear Cominius speak? Yes, willingly. But my cautioning was more to the point than your rejecting it. He loves the people, but let's not make them live in the same way. Dear Cominius, please speak. I'll take my leave. No, stay in place. Sit, Coriolanus. Do not be shy of hearing your brave deeds. Your Honor's pardon.
I'd rather be given my wounds again than hear of how I got them. Sir, I hope my words did not unseat you. No, sir. Yet while I stand for blows, praise can make me flee. But you gave none. so I hurt none. But for your people, I love them as little as they're worth. Please, sit. I would rather have someone smash my head when the battle call comes than stand idly and hear my small deeds blown up. Masters of the people. How could he honor the multiplying masses?
There's one good soul in a thousand. You see, he'd slice his own limbs to keep his honor, but won't give an ear to hear it. Cominius. Aye. shall lack voice, but the deeds of Coriolanus should not be spoken of softly. It is held that valor is the greatest virtue and dignifies the owner. If that is so, the man I speak of cannot in the world be equaled. At only 16 years old, When Tarquin attacked Rome so, he fought beyond all others. This man emerged from that schoolboy, a rising tide, a force.
In the seventeen battles since, he swung swords to victory garlands. These last battles outside and in Coriolis let me say that I cannot say it all. Alone, he entered the city's faded gates and painted it all red, the color of its destiny. With a bloody rush attack, he struck Coriolis, the force of a planet.
With double effort, he quickly revived his beaten body and came back to the battle. And there, he ran steaming over the lives of men like an endless slaughter. Until declaring we took both the field and the city, He never stopped to take a breath. Brave. He has earned any honor and role we create for him. He shunned our rewards, pushing these precious spoils away from him like they were common muck. His wants are poor, wary of the cost they carry.
To him, rewards are in the doing of the deed. He is most content in the action. Very noble. Let us call him here. Call Coriolanus. Your Honors. We and the Senate, Coriolanus, are very pleased to make you consul. I will always owe them my life and services. All that remains then is for you to speak to the people. I ask of you. Let me skip that formality. I can't put on the gown, stand naked, and beg of them. Look at my wounds. Now give up your votes, please. Allow me to pass on doing this. Sir.
The people must have their vote and they won't cut any part of the process. Do it! Please, just fulfill this part of the duty and you can, like predecessors before, do it with honor. It is a part that'll make me blush in acting it and will make the people part of the act. Hear that, Brutus? To brag to them, oh, I did this and this, show them old scars that I should hide, as if I got them only to show them and to take their votes. Do not insist on it. We ask that you, tribunes of the people,
recommend our plan for them. And to our noble council, we give joy and honor. May all joy and honor come to Coriolanus. You see how he intends to use the people. May they sense his intentions. He will ask for their votes while resenting that they do hold power of their voice. Let's inform them of the events here. I know they're waiting for us in the marketplace.
Next Chapter Podcast is proud to present the Play On Podcast series, King Lear. All stand in honor of the royal family. Starring Keith David. Our most dear and honored King Lear. in a new Modern English verse translation by Marcus Gardley. Tell me, dearest daughters, which of you shall say she loves me most?
You did not obey our father and therefore deserve the punishment handed down to you. Hear Shakespeare's epic tragedy performed by some of the most accomplished actors of our time. Only the grave now. It could bring me peace. Go to playonpodcast.com to learn more. There's a sickness that comes with age. Anyone can see how this world works. Just look with your ears. Have a splendid life.
Even if he does need our votes, we should not deny him. We might, sir, if we want. We have the power in us to do it, but a power we're not empowered to do. Because if he shows his wounds and states his doings, we become those wounds and talk for them So if he tells us his bravery, we then must also tell him our gratitude Ingratitude is monstrous
And if the masses are ungrateful, it'd make a monster of the masses, which we are part of, the masses, then making us monstrous members. True, true. And not much help is needed for us to be thought of any less. When we used to stand in the cornstalks, he was quick to call us a monster of many heads.
We have been called so many things. Not because our heads are shades of brown, some black, some auburn, some bald, but because we have such a variety of opinions. And really, I think if all our opinions came from one head... They would fly east, west, north, south, and they would agree only that they were going in all different directions at once. Are you all set to give your votes? It doesn't matter. The majority rules, I say.
If he would side with the people, there'd be no man more deserving. Hey, get off of there. Here he comes. And dressed so humbly. Watch how he acts. He's going to come to us one at a time for his requests, so we each have the honor of giving him our vote in our own voice. So follow me, and I'll show you how to approach him. Okay. Good.
Oh, sir, you do not have it right. You know our most honored men have done it. I say what? I pray, sir? Disgusting. I can't make my tongue to speak in that way. Look, sir, my wounds. I got them while serving my country, when some of your brethren screamed and sped away hearing the noise of our own drums. Oh, my dear gods, you must not say that. You need to make them think kindly of you. Kindly of me? Hang them!
I wish they'd forget me as they have lost the virtues our gods gave them. You'll ruin it. There he is. Let's talk to him. I'll leave you. Please speak to them. I ask you, keep it courteous and clean. Tell them wash their faces and keep their teeth clean. So here comes a few. You know the reason, sirs. I'm standing here. We do, sir. Tell us what has brought you here. Mine own deserving. Your own deserving? Yes, but not my own desire. How's it not your own desire?
No, sir, it never was my desire to trouble the poor with begging. You must think if we give you anything, we hope to be getting something from you. Well, then I ask, what is the cost for the consul? The price is to ask for it kindly. I ask kindly, sir. Let me have it. I have wounds to show you. I'll show you in private. Okay. You're a good vote, sir. What do you say? You'll have it, Your Honor. A match, sir. There's a total of two worthy votes, begged. I have your offerings.
Adieu. Well, that is a little odd. Please, if you can stand to agree that I may be consul, you'll see I am wearing the customary gown. You have served your country nobly and you have not served nobly. Your riddle? You have been a scourge to her enemies You have been a defender to her friends, yet you have not loved the common people. You should count that a virtue, that I have not been common with my love. I will, sir, flatter my brethren, the people.
to earn a dearer opinion from them. It's a trait they consider genteel. And since their wish is to have me tip my hat rather than have my heart, I will practice bowing and nod my head to them hollowly. That is, sir, I will feign the charm of the man of the people and play it fully to all who desire that. So I ask you, may I be your consul?
We'd hope to find a friend in you and then give you our votes happily. You've been wounded many times fighting for your country. I won't confirm what you know by showing them. I will make the most of your votes, then trouble you no more. May the gods give you much joy, sir. Such sweet votes. Better it is to die. Better to go hungry than seek the reward which battles gave me. Why should I stand here in this common gown to beg of every simple man in town for worthless approval?
Custom, says two. If custom wishes it, it we must do. Here come more votes. Your votes? For your votes I have fought! Guarded for your votes. For your votes, hold more than two dozen wounds. Two and a half dozen battles I've been in. See, your votes have done many things. Some less, some more. Your votes, really, I should be console.
He has fought bravely and should have any honest man's vote. So let him be consul. The gods give him joy and make him a good friend to the people. Amen. Amen. God bless you, noble consul. Very worthy votes. You stood in public long enough, and so you're approved by the tribunes and people's vote.
All that remains is the official marks. See you shortly at the Senate. It's done. You fulfilled the duty of the custom. The people approve you, and now you are called to make it official. Where? The Senate? There, Coriolanus. Can I change these clothes? You can, sir. I'll do that first, and seeing myself again, return to the Senate. I'll keep you company. Will you two come along? We will wait for the people. Farewell. He has it now. From the look I'd venture, it warms his heart.
With a proud heart, he wore his humble rags. Will you allow the people's vote? How is it, good folk, that you have chosen this man? He has our vote, sir. We pray to the gods he deserve your loves. Amen, sir. From my low view, I believe he mocked us while begging for our votes. Definitely. He mocked us outright. No, it's just the way he speaks. He didn't mock us. Every one of us here except for you knows he spoke to us with scorn. He should have showed us his wounds.
Real marks of merit. Surely he did. No, no, he didn't. No one saw them. He said he had wounds which he could show privately, and then waved his hat, scornfully so. I will be consul, he said. Old custom, but I still need your votes to make it so. So your votes now. When we gave them to him, he said, I thank you for your votes. Thank you. Your most sweet votes. Now you've given your votes. I've nothing more with you.
That's not mockery. Were you then either too foolish to see it, or seeing it like a silly child gave away your votes? Couldn't you have told him as instructed? When he had no power but was a petty servant to the state, he was your enemy. Even spoke against your freedom and the laws that protect you, the Commonwealth. And now he's reaching the potential power to rule the state.
If he remains this vicious enemy opposing the good people, your votes might be curses unto yourselves. You should have said his brave deeds do give him his due to consul. So it should follow then he be gracious and consider you and your votes to help transform his malice for you into love and become your true consul.
Did you notice he begged of you with naked contempt while needing your support? And don't you think that contempt will become bruising to you when he holds power to crush? Did none have any heart in you? Or tongues to scream against the ruling party? Haven't you ever refused a demand? And worse now, affirm someone. Not asking, but mocking. Giving up your voice? See how he was?
He's not confirmed yet. We can still stop him. And we will stop him. I'll get 500 votes against the man. I'll get double and... Had their friends, too. Then go, quickly. And tell those friends they've chosen a consul who'll take away their freedoms. Give them no more voice than dogs that are beaten for barking, though they're bred to do just that. Let them meet, and then, with calmer judgment, all reject this ignorant election. Stress his pride and hatred of you. Also,
Don't forget his disdain in wearing your humble gown. How, in seeking your support, he scorned. But your love for his feats took away all notice of his true self in front of you. that so insultingly unearthed all the ingrained hate he holds for you. Lay blame on us, your tribunes, that we stressed there should be no obstacle that you must cast your vote for him.
Yes. Say you chose him more from our demand than being led by your own honest instincts. Blame us. Say you never stress it again, except for our pressure. And immediately, when people are gathered, we'll head to the Capitol. Yes! Almost all reject the election! Yes! We'll reject the election! Let them head on their own.
This mutiny is a better risk than waiting without certainty for worse. If he, true to his nature, wages back with their rejection, first look for, then take advantage of his anger. To the Capitol. Let's be there before the rush of the peoples. It'll seem, and partially is, their own doing. Something that we've urged into being.
Tullus Ophidius then has gathered a whole new army. He has, sir, and that's given us reason to make swifter agreements. So then the Volsques are standing at the ready once again when time dictates to make raids on us all over. They are weak, Consul. Hardly likely that we'll see in our time their victory flags again. And Ophidius? Under guard, he came to me and vowed curses against the Volskys for having so dreadfully lost the town. He's fled to Antium. Did he talk about me? Yes, he did, sir.
How? What? How many times he'd fought you sword to sword. Of all the things on earth he hated most is you. Bet he would sell all his fortunes to endless poverty so he could be the one to defeat you. He is in Antium? In Antium. I wish I'd a call to follow him there to face his hatred fully. Welcome home, Larchus. Halt! These are the tribunes of the people, speakers for the common voice. I loathe them. They costume themselves in authority and insult to all nobility. Halt! Huh? What's that?
It will be dangerous to go on. No further. What made this change? What is the matter? Hasn't he been approved by both the nobles and the commoners? Cominius, no. Did I get votes from children? Tribunes, enough. He must be at Marketplace. The people are incensed by him. Stop, or there will be a riot!
Are these your herd? Should they have boats that they can offer now, then suddenly deny doing? What's your job? You're their voice. Why can't you control their words? Haven't you set them off? Be calm. Be calm. This ploy is premeditated and seeds a plot against the known wishes of the nobles. Accept this and we'll live alongside the unruly who will never allow proper rule. Not a plot.
The people scream out that you mocked them. Corn was to be given free. You argued, scandalized us supporters for the people, called them opportunists, flatterers, enemies of the nobility. This was already known. Not to all of them. Have you informed them then? How I inform them? That's the kind of business you do. The way I do is better than any such you do.
Why then should I be consul? By the fates let me deserve as ill as you, so that I may be tribute like you. You show too much of your true ways. It incites the people. If you do wish to get to Marketplace, you'll have to ask the way. This time, kindly. Or never find your way to B-Consul. Let's be calm! The people have been deceived!
Set off! Rome is not for haggling, and Coriolanus is not deserving of such dishonor, false claims against his great bravery. Talk of corn! That was my speech, and I'll say it again. Not now, not now. Not with it so heated. Now as I live, I will, my nobler friend. I beg your pardons for the shifty, stinking masses. Let them inspect me. I do not speak to flatter. You'll see and hear yourselves now before you. I repeat.
Wooing them grows these weeds against our Senate. Their rebellion, insolence, treasons, seeds we will have planted, sowed, scattered by mixing them with us, the few who carry virtue, yes, and power too. but what we gave to beggars enough no more words we beg you what no more For my country here, I have shed my blood with no fear for enemy forces. So my lungs will blow words into the air until they breathe measles, which we caught protecting the poor.
And until the day they kill us. You speak of the people like you're a god able to punish them, not also human. We should let the people know. What? His rage? Rage? I could be as calm as midnight sleep. By gods, I'd be of the same mind. The same mind of yours will be a poison however it is. Don't poison more. Will be? Hear this, triton god of the minnows. Note his command. Will. Was out of order. Will.
Ho, you are good but unwise, nobles. If you're wise, don't act like common fools. If you are not, let the powers sit with you, your plebeians, if they're senators. But if you're equals, then both your votes... the majority would win all.
they did choose their representative and he is one who does invoke his will his populist will against the most serious bench to sit anywhere by the gods it drops the councils to the The floor pains my soul to know when two authorities face neither one superior, how soon ruin will fill the space between them both and take one by the other. Well, on to the marketplace. Whoever advised that council to give the corn away for free, like they did times before in Greece? Well, well, no more of that.
Though in Greece, people had more absolute power. Whoever decreed it spilled chaos, fed the state's ruin. Why would people give someone who talks this way their vote? I'll give reasons worth more than their votes. They know corn was not real compensation, knowing full well they did not work for it. Faced with... War! Even with our state at the center of it, they wouldn't even pass the city's gates. That response deserves no free corn. In war?
Their mutinies and revolts are what showed their only valor, proving their true selves. So, how will this body of many gods swallow the Senate's gifts? Let their actions speak what they would say. We demanded it. We're the majority. And full of fear, they gave us what we wished. That would so devalue the nature of our seats and make the mob take our care for fear.
And that will prove soon to break open the Senate's locks and free these crows to peck the proud eagles. Enough! Enough with overstating. No! Take more! Let it be sworn by both gods and humans and settle what I'll state. This dual worship where one side has rightful disdain the other accuses beyond all reason and where class name or sense don't count just yes or no from the common
Dumb vote! So it neglects our true needs and follows the way of this wavering over trifles. Then plans of substance stop and nothing has a purpose! So, I ask you, nobles, you who are more shrewd than scared, who fight to preserve the essence of state more than question how to change it, immediately now, Pull out the masses' tongue. Don't let them lick the taste of power that is their poison. No good will come of their evil control. Stop. He speaks like a traitor.
and will answer like traitors do. You wretch, you fill me with contempt. What should the people do with these bald tribunes they depend upon? What? Only obey the higher court in a rebellion. acts of defense because of chaos then become law. In new light, we need to let what's right be the rule and throw their power to the wind. Treason. He, a consul, no. The pages have come. apprehend him go call the people here now you I call a traitor and revolutionary an enemy to the people's welfare
Obey, I charge you, to your trial. Off, goat! Hands off him! Off, you rotten thing, or I'll shake your bones right out of your garments! Help, people! Here's the one who would take all power from you. Seize him, sergeants. I can't speak. You're about to lose all your freedoms. Martius would take them all from you. Martius, whom you just voted Consul. No, no, no! This is the way to inflame, not to douse!
To unbuild the city and lay all of it flat. What is the city but the people? True, the people are the city. The people are the city. By everyone's agreement, we were named to speak for the people. And so are likely to do. A greedy way to lay the city flat, to bring the roof to the foundation and bury all that so clearly runs in a line in heaps and piles of ruin. This deserves death.
In the name of the common people in whose power we were elected, we here sentence Martius to immediate death. Then take hold of him. Carry him to traitor's rock. and from there throw him down to his end. Pages, seize him.
Ready to launch your business? Get started with the commerce platform made for entrepreneurs. Shopify is specially designed to help you start, run and grow your business with easy, customizable themes that let you build your brand. Marketing tools that get your products out there. Integrated shipping solutions that actually save you time. From startups to scale-ups, online, in person, and on the go. Shopify is made for entrepreneurs like you. Sign up for your $1 a month trial at shopify.com.
Let's talk about something that might be keeping you up at night. Cybersecurity. According to Vanta's latest State of Trust report, it's the number one concern for UK businesses. That's where Vanta comes in. Whether you're a startup, growing fast or already established, Vanta can help you get ISO 27001 certified and more without the headaches.
And Vanta allows your company to centralize security workflows, complete questionnaires up to five times faster, and proactively manage vendor risk to help your team not only get compliant, but stay compliant. Stop stressing over cybersecurity and start focusing on growing your business. For a limited time, our audience gets $1,000 off Vanta at vanta.com slash go. That's vanta.com slash go for $1,000 off.
Because when it comes to your business, it's not just about keeping the lights on, it's about keeping everything secure. I'm Michael Goodfriend, executive producer of the Play On Podcasts. Are you excited by the timeless stories that you're hearing on this podcast? Do you yearn to write your own novels or stories? Well, if you do... I want to recommend the Reading and Writing Podcast. You can hear tips and tricks from a wide range of writers, from best-selling writers,
to first-time novelists. Learn from writers who have turned their story ideas into published novels and short stories and are willing to share their experiences. Find the Reading and Writing Podcast today. on your favorite podcast app. One word. I ask you, tribunes. Here, just one word now. Peace! Peace!
Act like you claim as your country's servant and show self-control, not your born instinct, to settle this violently. Sir, such cool methods may seem so sensible, but are very poisonous with disease this violent... Take hold of him and carry him to the rock. No, I'll die here. There's some among you who've seen me fight. Come, try and do now what you've seen me do.
Put down that sword! Tribunes, withdraw a while. Take hold of him! Don't let him go, he's a traitor! Help, Marcius, help! Get him! Stop, Marcius! Go! Get back to your home! Be gone! Away! All will be lost otherwise. I beg you, dear friend, get home to your house. Leave us to cure this sickness. It's a disease on all of us. You can't treat it yourself. Go now, I beg you. Go, sir, along with us. I wish they were barbarians. That they are. Later born in Rome, not Romans, not them.
I don't birth upon the capital. No, come away. Go. Do not let your just anger speak. That time is due to come. I'll give my unwelcome advice to the unadvisable. We must piece this back together with any tool that takes. This man has spoiled his destiny. His nature is too noble for the world. He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, or Joe for his power to make thunder. His heart's in his mouth.
beats in his chest, his tongue must vent. And when his anger takes him, he even forgets he's ever heard of death. Oh, I wish they were in the river. What ruin. Wouldn't he speak calmly? Viper who depopulate the city and be everyone himself. You worthy tribunes. He will be thrown far off the traitor's rock with rough hands. He has so defied the law and so then the law will deny him full trial except for the weight of public opinion which to him means nothing.
He should know well the noble tribunes are the people's voices and we are their hands. He will be sure. We are the people's hands. Sir. Peace. Do not go about slaughtering wildly, but instead just target within reason. Wait now, fellow. Tell me, how did you come to help him escape? Listen to me now. Because I know the Consul's strengths, I can also name his faults. Consul? What Consul? The Consul Coriolanus. No Consul!
No! No! No! No! With the Tribune's permission. And if you good people allow me to be heard, please. I wish a word or two. Won't cause no harm. Just cost some of your time. Speak briefly, then. For we are set, determined to destroy this viperous traitor. To eject him from here holds us with danger. And to keep him here gives us our certain death. So it's done. He dies tonight.
Oh, the good gods forbid that our renowned Rome, whose true devotion towards her own children is in Jove's scrolls at the capital, now will go against nature as a mother eating her own. He's a disease that... must be cut away. Oh, he's just a limb that has a disease, fatal to cut it off to cure it easy. What's he done to Rome that deserves death? The blood he has lost killing our enemies, which I count as more blood than is in his body. He spilled there's more.
all shed for his country and to take what blood is left to lose it to his country who does that will suffer infamy to the end of the world all twisted completely off When he loved his country, it honored him. The foot's function. Once it has gangrene, it earns no respect for what the foot gave before. No more now. Chase him from his house and seize him there.
If his infection can spread beyond him, see it passes no further. One more word. One word. When your tiger-footed rage realizes the damage of its unchecked haste, it will be too late to slow its heels. Allow time, or factions form. Some love him. They break out and Rome is attacked by Romans. What then? What are you saying? Have we not had a taste of his obedience? Our people have been struck. Brutus and I have been resisted. Consider this.
He has been bred in wars since he could draw a sword and is unschooled in more refined language. Flour and husks he mixes without notice. Allow me to go to him and convince him to answer now lawfully to the charges, in peace, for his own peril. Dear Tribunes, it is the humane way. The other course will prove too bloody. and the result we can't begin to know. Noble Meninius, you will then act as the people's defense. Peoples, lay down your weapons. Do not leave.
Meet at the marketplace. We'll wait for you there, Meninius. If you do not bring Martius, we'll follow with our first plan. I'll bring him to you. Please accompany me senators he must show or what comes will be worse. Yes, let's get him Let them pull out my ears, then put me to death on the wheel or at wild horses hoofs.
or pile me on ten hills at Trader's Rock and heave me from such a height that the drop would fall beyond the sightline and still I will remain the same as I am to them. I wonder. if my mother will show support for me against those who she used to call sheep in their wool costumes, haggling for meager coins and yet quick to kowtow in halls, hats off to leaders, and then their mouths as open maws.
dumb to respond when dare as I did to speak of war. Ah, speaking of you, my mother, why did you want me to be milder? Wish that I fight against my nature. Prefer I play, not be the man I am. Oh, dear, dear, dearer. I wanted your power approved in full before you already had worn it out. Never mind now. You could have been the man you are without trying so hard to be nothing less.
less than the critiques of your character, like your uncontrolled rage you shot at them, but not before they lost power to stop you. And so let them hang. Oh, yes. And burn, too. Come, come. You have been too rough. Too, too rough. You must return and fix it. There's no remedy unless by not so doing our good city cleave in the midst and perish. Please be advised. I have a heart as unmoving assures.
but a brain directing how I use anger to greater advantage. Well said, m'lady. And me? Return to the tribunes. Well, then what? Then what? Regret what you have done. For them? I could not do that to the gods. I should do it for them? You're too solid. Which can make you more noble, but you can't act too noble in extreme moments. You yourself have said honor and strategy. Grow inseparable in war together. Allow that.
And tell me in what ways do the same two together lose in peacetime? Hush, hush. A good question. If it is part of your honor code in war to act in ways that you are not, use your strategies in war to get what you want. How is it worse? that this same practice holds in peace as in war, since they both seek to gain the same end. Why are you pushing this? Because now it falls to you to apologize to the people.
And not by your order, nor by your hearts provoking you to act. But you'd speak with a tongue rotely moving through a speech. Have it. spring falsely out of you and not from your true feelings. Now this would dishonor you no more than taking over the town with flattering words, which would otherwise make you trust luck. and risk your blood. No, I would conceal my true nature if it puts my fortunes and friends at risk. That would be true honor.
on behalf of your wife, your son, senators and nobles. Yet you would instead show these fools of the populace how you can frown upon them rather than effort flattery to gain approval and protect what they could ruin without it. Noble lady. Come with us. Speak reasonably. You may heal not only what is presently dangerous, but what has been lost in the past. Dear son, go with them. with my head in your mind and bow it down to them do this as they wish your knee kissing stone for in this business
Action is efficient, and in the eyes of the ignorant, more eloquent than what you can tell them. But by bowing your head, which then covers up your pride... You are humble as the ripest mulberry that is too soft to touch. Once again, tell them you are their soldier, and being bred in battle has made you rough. And now you do a vow, not fitting to ask of their support as you did. But here forward, they have all your power.
and abilities. Done thus, as she says, why, their hearts will be yours, for they have forgiveness. If solicited, given freely as the nonsense they speak. Please. Go and yield to them. Though I know your wish is to follow your enemy to hell before flattering them in private. Cominius! I've been in the marketplace, and, sir, you ought to bring strong support, or defend with peace, or by not showing. All are angered. Only speak contritely.
That may pass if he can hold his temper. He must and will. Please now, agree to it and go do it. I must go show them my head with no helmet. I must. give my honest heart a lie for my tongue to tell, well, I will do it then. But if there's a single lot to be lost, this mound of me, Martius, will be what they grind to dust and throw to the wind. To the marketplace. You've cast me in a role I can't perform to its full life. Come, come, we'll prompt you. Please now, sweet son.
As you yourself have said, my praising made you a soldier first. So, to gain my praise for this, perform a part you have not done before. Well, I must, then. Off with my true nature. Enter into me the will of a whore. My voice pitched for battle in concert with war drums. Now will be piped tiny as the eunuch or high as the lady that lulls babies asleep. Smiles of servants camp in my cheeks and tears of schoolboys hold the view in my eyes. A beggar's tongue.
moves through my lips, and my knees, that once bowed in armor, now bend for alms. I will not do it, lest I cease to honor my own truth. And what my body does without its soul will teach my mind a newly inbred baseness. It's your choice, then. My begging you is greater dishonor than you begging them. It is all ruined. Your mother ought to share your pride more than fear its danger, for I stand to death as boldly as you do. Do as you will.
Your bravery was mine. You sucked it from me. But your pride is owned by you. Please be content. Mother, I am going. To the marketplace, berate me no more. I'll bamboozle them, cheat their hearts from them, and come home beloved by all the tradesmen in Rome. Look, I'm gone. Give word to my wife. I'll return consul. Then don't doubt what my tongue can do to gain its wishes through flattery. Do as you will. Go. The tribunes await you.
I've heard they are ready with accusations. Yes, it'll be worse than what you've received already. Arm yourself to respond mildly to them. The word is mildly. Please now let us go. Even if they falsify charges, I will answer in my honor. Aye, but mildly. Well, mildly it is then. Mildly. Push this point home on charges against him. He aims to be tyrant ruling this state. If he avoids that charge, expose him for his malice toward the people. You there.
Where's Coriolanus? He's coming. Accompanied with? With old Meninius and those senators that always favored him. Bring the people to the assembly now, and when they hear me say this, it will be so as rights of the common people... They then will shout back in response to all charges. For fine, they cry fine. If death, cry death. We'll keep the people's traditional rights and power in the truth of the cause. I will inform them.
And when that time comes that they are shouting out, tell them not to stop. Let their calls create an uproar that presses immediate action on all charges to be carried out. Very well. Get them prepared to be ready for this sign. When they hear it, they shout back. Get to it. I will, sir.
It will fly him in a rage instantly. He's used to always winning and acting contrary all the while. But once he's lit, he can't rein back his temper. Then he'll speak what's in his heart. And that is what provides us evidence to bring... Well, here he comes. Peacefully, I call on you. Yes. Just like a stableman hunting down cheap coin, no concern being called foul. Honored gods, keep Rome safe.
and fill our tribunes with pure men, plant love everywhere, line our temples with throngs chanting for peace, not fighting war in our streets. Yes, amen. A noble wish. Come close, peoples. Listen to your tribunes. Quiet. Hear this. First, hear me speak. Talk. Calm, peoples. Will I be charged any more than this? All is decided now? I demand to know if you yield to the people's votes.
acknowledge their officers and submit to suffer punishment for such crimes that will be proven against you. I agree. Here, citizens, he states that he agrees. Consider his services in war. Cite the many wounds his body bears, which count like graves for enemies fought. Twig scratches scars to laugh at is all. Consider further that he does not speak like a civilian, for he commands as a soldier.
Don't take his rougher speech for malevolent sounds. But as I say, this style suits a soldier and doesn't aim to spite you. What is the issue? That after being named consul with your votes... I'm now so degraded that within an hour, you strip it off. You answer to us. Say then! We charge you with conspiring to undo Rome's established order. to then construct a hierarchy with you as tyrant, making you a traitor to the people.
With restraint, your promise. May the people fall to fires in lowest hell. Call me their traitor, you slanderous tribune. If your eyes held 20,000 deaths, if your hands clutched as many millions, and your lying tongue took both those numbers, still I would say you lie in a voice as honest as when I pray to the gods. See this, people. Peace.
We should not add more sparks to his heat now. Would you have seen him do and heard him speak? Beating your officers, cursing you all, opposing laws with attack? And here, defying the great powers who are trying him, this too a capital crime he has committed. So extreme it deserves death. He served Rome so well. You babble of service. I speak of what we know. Ha! What you know? Is this the promise you made your mother? You should know that this is... No! I will know no further.
Let them announce my death from traitor's rock vagabond exile whipping captive lingers a grain a day, I wouldn't buy their mercy at the cost of one good word or check my courage for what they can give to even have to say good day. In the name of the people and in our power, we tribunes banish him from the city.
for crimes that live within him which outwardly showed his envy of the people his open hostile pronouncements as he sought to take their power he did so in the face of justice and against those who hold order for the people now he will not enter the gates of Rome. If so, he will be instantly thrown from off of traitor's rock. In the name of the people, let it be so. My masters and my common friends. He's sentenced. No more hearing. Let me speak.
I have been consul and can show Rome all the wounds I have from her enemies. I do love my country's good with a respect more tender, holy, and profound than my own life, my dear wife's honor, or her offspring. and treasures of my bearing. So I would state that... We know your side. State what? There's no more to be said, but he is banished as enemy to the people and his country. It will be so. It will be so!
whining with your hateful breath reeking of swamps. Your praising of me I value like dead carcasses of unburied men. How you corrupt my air! I banish you! Let you stay with your uncertainty. Let each feeble rumor shake your hearts. Each sight of your enemy's helmet feathers fan you into despair. Continue. to banish those who defend you till at last your ignorance which knows not a thing till it finally fails something leaving you holding just yourselves always your own foes
It leads you to be captured by a nation that'll beat you without blows. I despise you all and this city. So I turn my back. There is a world elsewhere. Pass through the gates and view him as he has viewed you with complete contempt. Torment him as deserved. Let a guard attend us through the city. The next chapter podcasts is proud to present the play on podcast series Macbeth in a new modern English verse translation by Magdalia Cruz. Art thou, but.
A dagger of the mind. Hear Shakespeare like you've never heard before. Performed by award-winning actors in a production that breathes new life into a timeless tale. Men are weak. Go to playonpodcasts.com to learn more. Put on your headphones and don't forget to wash your hands. Leave all the rest to me. Let the gods destroy them. Come now, stop your crying. A brief farewell. The beast of many heads butts me away. May the plague haunt their homes. No, mother.
Where is your long-held courage? You used to say suffering tests the spirit. That common chances common men could bear. That when the sea is calm, it's every boat can float masterfully. When fortune strikes its hardest blows, bearing it requires a noble skill. You were used to fill me with these principles enough to make the heart that memorized them invincible. Oh, heavens! No, please, woman. I too am moved. Allow your wife her tears. Let disease plague all the Roman tradesmen in red.
And after, let all comers die. What, what, what? I will be mourned when I am missed. No, mother. Regain that spirit you had when you'd say if you had been the wife of Hercules. Six of his labors you would do, and would have saved your husband twice the sweat. Coriolanus. Cominius, don't wilt. Adieu. Farewell, my wife, my mother. I'll be fine still. You, old and true Menennius, you cry more salty tears than a young man. That makes for sore eyes. Cominius?
I have seen you, Grimm, and you have witnessed many heart-hardening spectacles. Tell these sad women it's as foolish to wail over the inevitable than to laugh at them. My mother! You know well my risks always have given you comfort, and, not lightly, though I go alone, like a lonely dragon whose swamp is more feared and talked of than seen. Your son will either exceed the common or be caught with treacherous baits and tricks. My dear son, where will you go? Travel with good Cominus for a while.
Chart a more promising path than wildly exposing yourself to each danger that will spring before you. Oh, the gods! I'll accompany you a month. plan with you where to rest and can communicate so we know of each other's whereabouts. Then, if a repeal should come, we won't have to search across the vast world to find just one man and lose dwindling chance while we wait for your return. No. Farewell.
You have many years behind you and you have filled too much with war's wounds to go roaming with someone still unbruised. Just bring me to the gate. Come, my sweet wife, my dear mother, and my friends of proven nobility. When I go, say farewell and smile. Please, now. As long as I'm above the ground, you'll hear from me, and if you do, trust. I will be just as I always was. That's as good to the ear as any to hear. Come, let's not weep.
If I could shake away just seven years from these old arms and legs, by the good gods, I'd be with you every step. Come, Mother, and come, my quiet grace. Your hands. Now that we've gained power, let's appear more humble now it's done than when we were getting it done. Oh, gods. Here comes his mother. Let's not meet her. Why? They say she's beside herself. They've spotted us. Continue on our way. Oh, here we are met. May the gods repay on love with a fat plague. Calm, calm, quiet.
If I could stop weeping... Were you slyier than the fox to banish the man who struck more blows for Rome than your spoken words? Oh, blessed heavens. More noble blows than you ever could think wise words, and for Rome's good, too. I'll tell you what. Go! No, stay after all. I wish my son were in the desert, your lot before him, his sword in his hand. What then? What then? He'd bring an end to you and your descendants.
Bastards and all. A good man and all those wounds he bears for Rome. Come, come, calm now. I wish he'd remained wed to his country as he started and didn't untie himself from the noble knot he made. I wish he had. Ha! I wish he had! You were the one who inflamed those common cats! who can judge his great worth as well as I can judge the mysteries of heaven unknown on earth. Sassinius, let's go now. Now please, sir, go away! You have done bold deeds.
Before you go, hear this. As towering as the capital is over the lowest house in Rome as my son, whom you banished. towers over you all. Well. Well, we'll leave you. Why stay to be bothered by one who lacks her wits? Take my prayers with you. I wish the gods had nothing else to do but to enact my curses. Could I meet them just once a day, it would unclog my heart of its heaviness. You sent them off, and I judge with great cause. Will you eat with me?
Anger's my meat. I dine upon myself and so will starve with feeding. Come. Let's go, girl. Seize this whining and lamenting I'm doing like Juno's anger. Come. Come, come. Here, let me help you. No, no I know you well, sir, and you know me. Your name, I think, is Adrian? It is so, sir. Truly I have forgotten yours. I am a Roman, but my services are as you are. Against him. You know me now? Nicanor, no? That is me, sir. You had more of a beard when I last saw you.
Your features come across when you speak in your distinct voice. What's the news in Rome? I have instructions from the Volscian State to find you there. You have saved me a day's journey. There have been some strange insurrections in Rome. The people against the senators, patricians, and nobles. There has been? Is it over then?
Our state doesn't think so. They are in warlike preparedness and are ready to seize on them in the heat of this chaos. The main blaze of it is embers, but a small thing would make it flame again. The nobles have taken this banishing of noble Coriolanus to heart. They be well-primed to take away all power from the people and to remove their tribunes forever. This possibility is glowing, I can tell you, and is near to burst for a violent eruption. Coriolanus banished? Banished, sir.
You will be welcome with this information, Nicanor. The time is right for Volshins now. I've heard it said the ripest time to corrupt a man's wife is when she's fallen out with her husband. Your noble Tullus Ophidius will come off well in these wars, with his great foe Coriolanus being persona non grata in his own... country. He is bound to. I am very fortunate to have happened upon you. You've done my work for me and I will happily accompany you home. Well? Let us go together.
City is this Antium. Oh, city. I'm the one that's made you widows. Many heirs of these gentle buildings I've heard groan and drop facing my attacks. So don't know me now. Else wives with meatscures and boys with stones slay me in puny battles. God save you! And you? Direct me, if you would, please, sir, to where great Ophidius is. He's in Antium? He is. hosting a feast for state nobles at his house tonight. Which is his house, if you would? This right before you. Thank you, sir. Farewell.
Mm-hmm. Hold your slippery turns. Fast sworn friends, now, whose separate chests seem to hold one heart, whose time... whose sleep, whose food and working, always together, twins, really, in love, inseparable, will within an hour, over dispute of a pittance, break out as bitter enemies? Such deadly foes? whose passions and plots have broken their sleep to take one of the other, by some chance some trick not worth an egg, will suddenly grow to dear friends and enjoy themselves.
For me, my birthplace, I hate. My love's for this enemy town. I'll enter. If he slay me... He does fair justice. If he accepts my way, I'll do his country service. No services this year. I think our fellow servants are asleep. A lovely house. The feast smells nice, but I do not seem like a guest. What would you need, friend? Where are you from? This is no place for you. Please go. I'd have earned no better reception in being Coriolanus. Where are you from, sir?
Does the gatekeeper have eyes in his head to let you in with such fine company? Please, get out! Go away. Away? Get you away. Now you're being troublesome. Are you so brave? I'll have you spoken to soon. How a strange one as I've ever seen. I can't get him out the house. Please, hey, call my master in for him. I will. What are you doing here, fellow? Please just leave the house. Let me just stand here. I will not hurt your hearth. What are you? What, you won't go?
Tell my master he has a very strange guest here. Where is this fellow? Here, sir. I'd have beaten him like a dog, but didn't want to bother your guests inside. Where have you come from? What do you want? Your name? Why won't you speak? Speak, man. Your name. Tullis. If you don't know who I am yet, and seeing me doesn't help you recognize me, I must then announce myself. What is your name?
A name unmelodious to Volshin's ears and a harsh sound to yours. Say it, your name. You have a grim appearance and your face has a commander's look. Though your gear is worn, you show yourself a brave ship. What's your name? Prepare your face to frown. You don't know me yet? I do not know you, your name! My name is Caius Martius, who has done to you especially and to all the Volske's great hurt and mischief as testament to my honored surname, Coriolanus.
The duties, the dangers, and the drops of blood shed for my thankless country are returned except for that surname. Only that name remains. Now these extreme times have brought me in front of your hearth, not in hope, don't mistake me, to save my life. For if I feared death of all the men in the world, I would avoid you. But instead, for the sheer spite of fully paying back my banishers is why I stand before you here.
Now, if you have vengeance in your heart to seek revenge against your own wrongs and end those shames to your country, then step two. and make my misery serve your will. So use my vengeful services too and gain benefits to you. for I will fight against my own cancered country with the fire of all hell's devils. But if you choose to dare not to, that you're too tired to try your chances more, then, in a word,
I am also weary to live any longer like this. And I present my throat to you and your malice. Oh, Martius. Martius. Every word you have said has weeded from my heart an ancient root of envy. If Jupiter should sound thunder from these clouds and speak divine things and say, it's true, I wouldn't believe them. no more than you, all noble Martius. Let us join arm in arm.
Hold your frame, the same that I have met in battle, slashed my blades to hundreds of times, broken against. Here I hug the anvil where my sword has struck. Know this. I loved the maid I married. I state the utter truth. But to see you before me, you noble thing. My heart actually moves more than when I first saw my bride standing in our threshold. Why, you god of war! Mars!
You have beat me twelve different times, and I have nightly since then dreamt of encounters between us. We'd be in my dreams, fighting on the ground, unbuckling helmets, choking each other's throat. And I'd wake half dead with nothing. Worthy Martius. Even if we had no clash with Rome, but that they've banished you, we could gather all from age 12 to 70. And then pour war into the bowels of ungrateful Rome and flood it over. Oh, come, go inside.
and meet our friendly senators who are leaving me now as I was preparing to go against your territories, though not Rome itself. You bless me, gods. So, you most consummate soldier. If you will take the lead in your own revenge, take one half of my command and determine as you are best experienced since you know your country's strengths and weaknesses. But come in. Thousand welcomes. And more friend than enemy. Yet, at that you were great. Your hand, welcome. That's a strange change of events.
By my oath, I thought about striking him with a club, and yet something in my mind said his clothes are disguising him. What strength he has. He turned me about with his finger and his thumb like someone... Spin the top. No, I knew from his face there was something in him. He had, sir, a kind of face that I thought... I cannot describe it. He did look like it were for the life of me. I thought there was more in him than I could say. So did I. I swear.
He is simply the oddest man in the world. I think he is, but a greater soldier than he? You'll find none. Who? My master? Oh, devil! I've got news. News, you rascals. What? Let's have it. Come on. I would not be a Roman for all the world. I'd more gladly be a condemned man. Why? Why? Why? He's here. The one that regularly whacks our general. He, Caius Martius. Why do you say whack our general? I do not say whack.
our general, but he was always strong enough too. Oh, come now. We're fellows and friends. Martius was always better than him. I've heard our general say so himself. He was too strong for him directly to speak the truth about it. Outside Coriolis, he slashed him and gashed him like meat from the fishbone. And were he a cannibal? He might have boiled and eaten them too. But more of your news.
Why, so much has been made of him here as if he were son and heir to Mars. Sitting at the place of honor at the table. No questions asked of him by any of the senators, but they stand. Hats off before him. Our general himself treats him like his own mistress. Touches his hand like a sacred relic and is wide-eyed to all he discusses. But the root of the news is our general is... cut in half.
from what he was yesterday because one half has been offered to this Martius and the whole table approves. He'll go, he says, and pull the gatekeeper of Rome's gates down by the ears. He will mow all down before him and leave... pillage in his path. When does this happen? Tomorrow? Today? Quickly! You will hear the war drums striking this afternoon. It's as if it were a part of their feast, and it's to be done before they wipe their lips.
Why then, we will have a rousing world again. This piece does nothing but rusts iron, multiplies the tailors, and ugh. produces songwriters. Let me have war, I say. It exceeds peace as much as day does night. Peace! is a feat, strolling, distinct and full of air. It is the very definition of apoplexy, lethargy, fat and death. Sleepy, insensible, a procreator of more bastard children than was a destroyer of men. It is. Oh, oh, they're getting up, they're getting up. Oh, go in, in, in! All right.
This is a happier, more pleasant time than when those people ran through the streets here shouting out chaos. Caius Martius was a fine officer in war, but insolent. Bloated with... Pride ambitious beyond all thought. Self-loving. And aiming for soul rule and without partners. I do not think so. Tribunes, we have put a felon in prison and he reports the Volskys with two separate armies have invaded into Roman territories and with the deepest rancor of war are destroying all before them.
It's Ophidius. Hearing how we banished Martius, he's thrust his horns back into the world. The ones hidden that dared not peep out when Martius fought for Rome. Now, why this talk of Martius? Messenger, go have this gossip whipped. It can't be the Volskys dare break peace with us. This cannot be. No, not possible. Speak. All the nobles are heading gravely to the Senate House. Some news has come that has turned their faces pale. Worst news is delivered. What could be worse?
It has come freely from many mouths. How probable, I do not know, that Martius, joined with Ophidius, leads a power against Rome and vows revenge to attack all alive, from the youngest to the oldest. How likely! This is created only so the weak ones would switch to wish Martius back home again. That is their very trick. This is unlikely. He and Aphidias can't reconcile. Not violent opposites.
You're asked for by the Senate. A fearless army led by Caius Martius, partnered with Ophidius, rages upon our territories and has already overwhelmed their path. full of fire and took what lay before them. Oh, you have made a mess, Brutus and Sicinius. What news? What news?
You've helped to ravish your own daughters and to melt the city roofs on your skulls, to see your wives dishonored in your faces. What's the news? What's the news? Your temples burned down into their grounds and your platforms on which you stood. shrunken to a carpenter's nail head. Please, now, the news. Tribunes, you've made fair work, I fear it. Cominius, please, your news. If Martius is now joined with the Volscians... If he is their god...
He leads them like a thing made by some deity beyond nature that shapes men better. And they follow him against us brats, them with the confidence of small boys chasing summer butterflies. or butchers killing flies. You all have made this happen. You and your tradesmen. You that stood on the vote of the workers and the voice of lower classes. He'll shake your roam around your head. As Hercules plucked.
golden apples you have made this all but is this true sir yes your blood will leave you before it's otherwise All regions are madly revolting and whoever resists gets mocked for bold ignorance and dies a loyal fool. Who can blame him? Your enemies and his find something in him. We are all done in, unless the brave man has mercy. Ha! Who will ask for it? The tribunes can't for shame. The people, they deserve his pity like the wolf deserves the shepherd.
Even his best friends, if they pleaded, be good to Rome, they beat asking of him the way those he hates would ask.
and then show themselves like enemies. It's true. If he were holding the flame to my house to burn it down, I wouldn't have the gall to say, I beg you, stop. You have made this. You and your henchmen. You crafted our- this you have brought an irremediable quaking in Rome as never felt before don't blame us don't blame us how not was it us we loved him but like beasts and cowards gave over to the masses who shouted him out the city here come the masses
Hi, this is Michael Goodfriend, executive producer of the Play On Podcasts. You know, if you like literature, then I think you're going to love a podcast called Lit Up. On Lit Up, creator and host Angela Ledgerwood... talks with writers she loves about modern life, book culture, and all the ways sharing stories illuminates our world. Tune in for conversations with brilliant minds from the literary world and beyond.
Caitlin Greenidge, Lisa Taddeo, Maeve Higgins, Clint Smith, Minjin Lee, and Stanley Tucci. Whether chatting about the book writing process, navigating our complex relationships to the internet, to America, to the past, to each other, or figuring out how to cope in uncertain times, this show... offers a glimpse into the minds, hearts, and creative practices of some of Angela's favorite writers and thinkers. Angie wants to know, what lights you up? Lit Up is produced by Sugar23.
Look out for new episodes twice monthly on Tuesdays and follow wherever you listen to your podcasts. Here come the masses. And is Ophidius with him? He is. Peace! Peace! Peace! Quiet! You are the one who fouled our air when you tossed your stinking, greasy hats in hooting at Coriolanus' exile. Now he's coming back, and there's not a hair on a soldier's head that won't become a whip.
As many jesters caps you idiots tossed up, he will beat down, making you pay for your votes. No matter. If he could burn us all into one coal, we deserve it. It's not true. For my part, when I said banish him was in pity.
And so did I. And so did I. And to tell the truth, so did many of us. Yes. What we did, we did for the best. And though we willingly consented to his banishment, still it was against our will. You've done the... deeds with your votes you made this you and your voices now to the capital what else may the gods be good to us come masters Let's go home. I did say we were wrong when we banished him. So did all of us. But now come. Let's go home. I do not like this news, Sassinius.
Nor I, Brutus. To the capital. For half my fortune, I'd pay for this to be a lie. Let's go. Do I still follow the Roman? I do not know what witchcraft's in him, but your soldiers say grace to him before meals. Talk of him at supper and give him thanks to end. You've been usurped, sir. Even your troops are in his sway. I can't stop it now, except in a way that would damage our own plans.
He holds himself somehow prouder still, even in front of me. More than I thought he could when we first embraced. Yet, that's his nature. He's no turncoat. And I must accept what can't be changed. Still, I wish, sir... I mean, for you in particular. That you hadn't joined in with him, but instead had set about this on your own. or else left it to him to leave alone. I understand. And you should be assured, time will come he'll be held accountable. He doesn't know all that I can push on him.
though it seems and so he thinks and can be spotted by the naked eye that he performs all things well and strongly commands the volscian state fights fierce as a dragon and strikes as he draws his sword And yet, he has left a piece unfinished that will break his neck or mine when that time does come to you. Sir, I ask you now. Do you think he'll take Rome? All places yield to him before he lays siege to them. And Rome's nobles are already his. The senators and aristocrats love him too.
The tribunes are no soldiers, and their people will be as rushed into repeal as they were hasty to expel him. I think he'll pounce on Rome like the fish hawk to the fish, with them belly up as nature calls. First, he was a noble servant to them, but he couldn't capably carry those duties, whether pride, a charmed life of success, or whether poor judgment, or whether just his...
Nature to be but one thing, not growing from war helmet to senate cushion, to be able to command peace with the same austerity and manner as he controlled war. Some peace. made him so feared, hated, and banished. One fire burns out another fire. One nail slams another nail. Righteousness fails. Rights, strengths fall to strengths. Come. Let's go. Martius. When Rome is yours, you will be the poorest of all. Then quickly, you're mine.
You must. It has to be you. Who else? No, I won't go. You heard what Cominius said. He who was his longtime general, who loved him dearly. He called me father, but no matter. Go. You that banished him. Crawl on your knees a mile to his tent, begging all the way for his mercy. No! If he coyly avoided Cominius, I'll stay here. He deems to not know me. Did you hear?
Just one time he called me by my name. I called on our old friendship and of blood we spilled together. Coriolanus he wouldn't answer to, denied all names. He was a kind of nothing. titleless, till he had melted himself a name from the fires of burning Rome. Well now, you have made this happen, a pair of tribunes that have wrecked apart Rome. Coals are cheap now, a fine memorial. I offered to him how it's most noble to give pardons when least expected. His reply was a naked plea from a state.
To one who they banished? Very well. What more could he say? I attempted to recall his fondness for his close friends. His answer to me was he could not stand to pick them out of a pile of stinking chaff. He said it's foolish to save a few unburnt grains if you can still smell the stench. Save a few unburnt grains?
I am one of those, his mother, wife, his child, and Cominius too. We are the grains. You're the stinking chaff, and you're the stench to smelt the high heavens. We must be burned for you. No, please, be patient. If you refuse to help and this is never needed so much aid, then don't scold us while we're in distress. But certainly, if you would plead for your country.
It would be your good word more than some instant army we could form that might stop our countrymen. No, I won't intrude. Please, you go to him. What could I do? Just... Make a case of what your love toward Martius can do for Rome. Go to him. Yes, do. Well, and say Martius then sends me back, like Cominius has been, unheard. What then? I'd be left as a refused friend, grief shot, all from his rejections. What have I then? You will be given your due equal to your noble intentions. This effort...
would earn Rome's thanks to match your intent. I'll try. I think he'll hear me. But it disheartens me that he bit his lip and disagreed with Cominius. Martius didn't take it well. He hadn't eaten. Empty organs makes our blood cold, and then we sulk in the morning, not ready to give or forgive. But when we've stuffed our blood with wine and food, our souls are softer than when we fast like priests. So then I'll watch him until he is fully sated, at rest, and then I'll seek him.
You know the one road into his kindness. You cannot lose your way. In faith, I'll try it, however it goes. I'll before long know the outcome. He'll never hear him. No? I tell you, he's sitting on a gold throne, his eyes red with loathing enough to burn Rome. His sense of injustice... Chained to his pity, I knelt before him, and faintly he said, Rise, dismissed me with a show of his hand.
And here's a letter sealed with an oath of his conditions, what he was willing to do and what he would not. Now, all hope is vain but for his mother and wife who i hear plan to plead with him for mercy on his country so let's hurry now to plead our case to them yes Yes, let's go see them. The women may be able to do it. Haha, gotcha. No fouls! Hey! What's that? Stay! Who are you? Stop and go back! You guard well, men. Quite well. But if I may...
I am an officer of the state come to speak with Coriolanus. From where? From Rome. You may not pass. You must return. Our general will hear no more from Rome. You'll see your Rome embraced with fire before you'll speak with Coriolanus. My good friends. If you have heard your general talk of Rome and his friends there, it's a thousand to one. My name has crossed your ears. It is Menenius. So be it now. Head back.
Your name alone here is not enough to pass. Please, fellow, remember my name is Meninius, always siding on the part of your general. You are a Roman, aren't you?
I am, as your general is. Then you should hate Rome as he does. When you've pushed the brave defender out of your city gates and with violent, overwhelming ignorance give to your enemy your greatest fighter, how can you... think to shield against his vengeance with the meager groans of old women, the merciful prayers of your daughters, or with the decaying pleas of such an aged devotee as you seem to be.
You think you can just blow out the impending fire readying to flame your city with weak breath as this? No. You are deluded. So now back to Rome and prepare for your execution. You're condemned. Our general has sworn no reprieve or pardon. Sirs, if your captain knew I was here, he would greet me with some esteem. Come now. My captain doesn't know you. I...
I mean your general. Oh, my general does not care for you. Back, I say. Go, or I'll spill your last pint of blood back. This is as far as you'll get back. No, but fellow, fellow. What's the matter? Now, you fellow, I'll deliver the report for you. You will know now that I am in fact... in his esteem. You'll realize that a fool guard can't order me from my son Coriolanus.
Guess what'll happen when I talk with him? If you stand to be hanged or given a more torturous death, longer in witnessing, crueler in suffering. Behold now, and you'll faint fearing what's to come upon you. Oh, my son, my son, you are preparing a fire for us. Look at these tears. Here's water to douse it. I wasn't the one inspired to come to you, but being persuaded that no one but I could inspire you.
So I've been rushed out of Rome's gates with laments to implore you to pardon Rome and your pleading countrymen. May the good gods ease your wrath and turn its remains on this valet here, he who like a bl- Lockhead has denied my access to you. Away. What? Away? Wife, mother, child, I don't know. My life is in service to other matters. I do own my revenge fully, but my chance for pardon lies in Vulsion Hearts.
We've known each other well, true, but your disloyalty now will add poison more than pity to our past. With that, be gone! My ears repel your pleas with more strength than your gates defend my force. Yet, because I loved you, take this along. I wrote it to you to be sent. My son, I... No more words. I won't listen. This was my beloved in Rome. Yet see him now, Ophidius. You stay true. Now, sir, is your name Meninius?
It's a spell, you see. All that power. You know the way home still. I neither care for the world nor for your general. For such trifles as you... I can hardly think there's any you're so insignificant. He that has a will to die by his own doing fears it not from another. Let your general do his worst. For you? Let you live long, and that your misery grows with your age. I say to you, as I was told, away!
A noble fellow. I give him that. Yet the worthy fellow is our general. He's the rock, the oak, not to be shaken. We'll be outside the walls of Rome tomorrow, and down they'll go. As my partner in this, you must report to the Volscian lords how simply I've handled this business. Just their goals you focused on. Blocked out the public cries of Rome.
Never entertained even a private whisper, not with any friends who thought they knew you. This last old man, whom with a cracked heart I have sent back to Rome, loved me with greater care than a father. No, made a god of me. Their last resort was to send him, whose old love I hold, though I showed myself foul to him. And yet I offered again my original conditions, which they refused and now cannot accept.
I granted him this, though he felt he could do more. I've given in to near nothing. Husband! My son! Come along, my son! My wife comes first. Then my mother, the mold who shaped this trunk, and in her hand, the grandchild of her bloodline. Affection, flee! Break all bonds of lineage and nature. Let it be a virtue to be unyielding. Dear husband. My eyes are not the same as in Rome.
The sad changes we've been hit with there makes you think so. Like a dim actor now. I forgot my lines. And to my disgrace, I've lost my part. My family and blood, forgive my cruelty, but do not ask me to say forgive the Romans. Stand up, my blessed. and are nothing softer than stone. I'll kneel before you and show you my duty as it's been unfittingly done forever from child to parent. What's this? Your knees to me? Your reprimanded son? Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach strike the stars.
Then let the mutinous winds strike the proud cedars against the fiery sun, murdering impossibility to make what's not viable easily done. You, my warrior. I helped in your molding. Father? Here stands a miniature droplet of you, with the passing of many full seasons may grow into you. That's my brave boy here. May Mars, god of war, with the consent of the god Jove, form your thoughts with nobleness, so that you may prove incapable of dishonor.
and stand firm in war like a ballast in tempests, enduring blasts, saving those that seek you. Your knee, my dear child. Even he, your wife, and myself. are loyal to you. I beg you, enough. Don't ask me now to send back my men or yield again to Rome's soldiers. Do not tell me how I act. unnaturally. Don't wish to calm my rages and revenges with your colder reasons. Oh, no more. No more.
You have said you will not grant us anything so we have nothing else to ask but that which you deny already Yet we will ask that if you deny our request The blame will fall upon your hardness. So now, hear us. Perfidius, and all you Voskes, note! We'll hear nothing from Rome in private. Your request? Even if we were silent and didn't speak. Our clothes and appearance would reveal what life's been like since your exile. Consider how we here are more unfortunate than all women together.
For in seeing you, we should make our eyes cry with joy. Hearts dance with comfort. Instead constrains our eyes to weep with fear, forcing this mother, wife, and child to see their son, husband, and father tearing his country's bowels out. and your deadly hatred makes us poor. How can we? Tell me! How can we pray for our country to whom we are bound and now then, now with your victory? Where then are we bound?
You block even our prayers to the gods. The only comfort... we can wish for woe is that we must lose the country our dear mother or lose you our comfort in our country If we had our wish, we'd pick our side to win. But know we'll meet certain tragedy, as either you'll be chained as a traitor, Ledge through the streets or else triumphantly tread over your country's ruin and be crowned in victory for bravely shedding your wife and child's blood. For me.
My son, I do not intend to wait out the war's results. If I cannot persuade you to seek a noble respect... between both sides instead of killing one side. You will no sooner march to attack your country than you will tread. Hear me. On your mother's womb that brought you in this world? Yes, and mine. That brought to this world your boy to keep your name living. He will not tread on me!
I'll run away till I am bigger, and then I'll fight. If I look at a child or woman, then I too must be tender as women. No, I've sat too long. No, don't leave us now. If it could happen that our request would save the Romans and so then destroy the vault's keys whom you serve, you might condemn us for poisoning your honor. No, it's our appeal that you reconcile them. Then the Volskys would say, this mercy we have shown. The Romans...
This mercy we've received. And each side could give the all hail to you and cry, be blessed for creating this peace. You know. Great son, war's end is uncertain, but this is certain that if you conquer Rome, the benefit which you will then reap is to earn a name whose repetition will be dogged with curses, whose history will be thus. The man was noble, but with his last attempt to wipe it out, destroyed his country, and his name remains to be the plague of ages. Speak to me, son.
Why don't you speak? Daughter, speak. He doesn't care that you're weeping. Speak boy. Your childishness is maybe the one thing that will move him more than our reasons. There's no man in the world more indebted to his mother, yet he has me babble like a prisoner. Say my requests unfair and refuse me, but if not your dishonest and the gods will plague you for denying me duty owed a mother. Down, daughter, grandson. Let us shame him with our knees. Down! End this at last!
Next Chapter Podcasts is proud to present the Play On Podcast series, Pericles. Young Prince of Tyre, these skulls belonged to princes like yourself. They say give up. before you're just like them. In a new modern English verse translation by Ellen McLaughlin. My life's at stake. Here's Shakespeare's timeless tale about a man who loses everything only to find what matters most.
Subscribe, rate and review Play On Podcasts on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Stitcher, or wherever you get your podcasts. Go to playonpodcast.com to learn more. I still need a pair of pants. Down daughter down child let us shame my son with our knees His new surname Coriolanus has more pride than pity for our prayers. Down, end this at last. So we will go home to Rome and die among our neighbors. No, look! This child that knows not what's to be...
but kneels in fellowship. He gives more strength to our pleas than you have fight to deny. Let's go. This fellow had a volition for his mother. His wife is in Coriolis, and his child looks like him by chance. Give us our leave. I am quiet until our city is on fire and then I'll speak again. Mother, what have you done? Behold, the heavens open. The gods look down on this unnatural scene and they laugh. Oh, my mother.
Mother, oh, you've made Rome victorious and given a mortal loss to your son. Believe it, you have induced him, but dangerously. For he lives in mortal peril now. But... Let it come. Aphidias! I can't hold my war promise. So I'll make proper peace. Now, good Ophidius, were you in my place, wouldn't you heed your mother or no, Ophidius? I too was moved by it. I'd swear you were. And sir...
It is no little thing to make my eyes wet with compassion. But, good sir, what peace will you make? Tell me. For my part, I won't go to Rome. I'll go back with you and pray you'll stand with me. Oh, mother, oh, wife! But we will drink in peace and you'll bring back a peace treaty in writing better than words. With these same conditions, it'll be state sealed. Come with us. Ladies, you deserve to have a temple built you.
All the swords in Italy and her Confederate arms could not have made this peace. See you that stone wedged in the capital's cornerstone over there? What? What about that? If it's possible for you to dislodge it just with your little finger... then there's some hope the ladies of Rome, especially his mother, could triumph with him. But I say there's no hope at all. We are sentenced with our throats waiting for execution.
In so short a time, a man can change so much. There's differences between a caterpillar and a butterfly, yet your butterfly was a caterpillar. This Martius has grown from man into dragon. He loved his mother dearly. And he loved me. And he remembers his mother now like a horse remembers its dam. He sits in his state chair as if he were Alexander the Great. What he bids be done is so done with his bidding.
He has all things of a god except eternity in heaven. And no mercy, if you describe him accurately. I paint him true to his life. See what little mercy his mother will receive from him. There is no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male tiger. All that our poor city will find out, and all due to no mercy. May the gods be good to us. No!
In a case like this, the gods will not be good to us. When we banished him, we did not respect them and with him returning to break our necks, thus they do not respect us. What's the news? Good news. Good news. The ladies have prevailed. The Volscians have withdrawn and Martius is gone. There's never been a happier day for Rome. Friend, are you certain this is true? It's certain.
As certain as I know, the sun is fire. This is good news. I'll go meet the ladies. Mother Volumnia is worth all the consuls, senators, patricians a city holds. All tribunes such as you, filling sea and land. You've prayed well today. This morning, I wouldn't bet a small coin to 10,000 you'd survive. Listen. The joy. We'll meet them and celebrate together. flowers before them. Quiet the noise that banished Martius. Recall him with the welcome of his mother. Cry welcome, ladies. Welcome!
Head high daughter, head high. Go tell the lords of the city I'm here. Deliver this paper to them. You entered your native Antium like a herald to no welcome home, but he... comes back to shouts in the air. And patient fools whose children he's killed, their lowly throats tear, giving him glory. I know. and my reason to attack him has a great foundation to it. I put him on high, and I pledged my honor for his integrity. And then he was raised to such power.
He watered his new Volske plants with dews of flattery, seducing my friends, hiding his true self before he was seen as rough. Banished for it, he came to my home, pressed my knife. Cross his throat. I took him, made him joint command with me, cleared way for him to do his bidding. No, let him pick from my troops to complete his tasks. My best men served his desires. Myself helped him steal his acclaim, which he ruined by himself. His pride is what wronged me.
At the end, I seemed like his follower, not partner. He paid me with only his nod, like a mercenary. Yes, he did. The army was astonished by it. At last, when we conquered Rome and had only to take our spoils and glory. That's it. And why I'll stretch all my strength against him. For a few drops of a woman's weeping, which are cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labor of our great efforts. So he will die.
and revive me in his fall. Here come the lords. Say no more. You are most welcome home. Yes, welcome home. I do not deserve it, but worthy lords, Have you carefully read the letter I sent to you? We have it and are saddened to hear it. However he failed before this last I think could have been slight crimes. But to give up our army's advantage... responding to us by returning our troops, making a treaty as they gave in? No excuse. Here he arrives. You will hear from him now.
as your soldier, no more infected by my country's love than when I left here but still remaining under your great command. You should know that my efforts have been successful. winning bloody battles all the way to the gates of Rome. We've brought home victory spoils that counterbalance a full third of the costs of the wars. We've made peace.
with no loss of honor to the anti-8s and no shame to the Romans. And now we here deliver this, signed by consuls and patricians both, along with the Senate seal. what we have agreed on. Do not read it, noble lords, but tell this traitor that he has abused your powers to the highest degree. Traitor! How was that? Yes, traitor, Martius. Martius? Yes, Martius. Caius Martius. Do you think I'll grace you with that robbery? Your stolen name, Coriolanus in Coriolis? You lords and heads of state!
Treacherously, he has betrayed your mission for a few salty tears from his wife and mother, and given up your city, Rome. I say, your city. breaking his sworn intent like a thread of rotten silk, never holding a war council even. But at his nurse's tears, he whined and roared away your victory to make young attendants blush and brave men gaze at each other. Hear this, Mars? Don't invoke that god. boy of tears huh no more unending liar you have made my heart too swollen to be contained boy oh dog
Pardon me, lords. This is the first time that I've had to scold. My dear lords, you must see this dog here is a liar. He who bears the lashes I've given him before and must bear my scars to his grave. He will show the lies he tells. Ha! Cut me to pieces, boss kids. Men and kids, stain your swords cutting me. Boy, lying dog. If you wrote your true story, it'd be there. How like an eagle in a dog's nest, I fluttered your vultions in Coriolis. Alone, I did it. Boy!
Why noble lords recall it was mere chance luck that brought this shame on you by the unholy braggart standing before you now He killed my father! Peace now! No outrage! Peace! The man is noble and his fame covers the world. His last offenses against us will have proper trial. Stand, Ophidius, and don't disturb the peace. Oh, if I could, against six Ophidias' or more, his tribe wield my sword of justice! Shameless villain!
Learn about the great danger he held for you. And from this rage he provoked, you can't know. But you will soon rejoice that he is cut short. And so my rage is gone, and I am struck with sorrow. Raise him up. Though in this city he's made widows, and destroyed children to this hour they wail those losses still yet he will have a noble memory ease us through The Play On podcast series, Coriolanus, was translated into modern English verse by Sean San Jose and directed by Kate Wisniewski.
Episode scripts were adapted and produced by Katherine Eaton. Sound design and engineering by Daniel Benjamin. Mix engineer Larry Walsh. Mix engineer, Sadaharu Yagi. Original music composition by Palmer Heffrin. Executive producer, Michael Goodfriend. Senior producer, Miriam Lauba. Managing producer, Robert Cappadonna. Coordinating producer, Taylor Bailey. Line producer, Priscilla Villanueva. Casting...
by the Telsey office, Karen Castle, CSA, and Ada Karamanian. The cast is as follows. Andress Nichols as Brutus and others. Chaney Waits as Larchus and others. Ching Valdez Aron as Volumnia. Danaya Esperanza as Coriolanus. Jamie Ann Romero as Valeria and others. Kim Won as Ophidius, Virgilia, and others. Lena Klingerman as Citizens and others. Nancy Rodriguez as Cecinius and others. Namuna Cisse as Nicanor, soldiers, citizens, and others. Petrina Murray as Meninius.
Vanessa Cai as Cominius. Zoe Tip as Adrian, young Martius, soldiers, citizens, and others. Additional support was provided by voice and text coach Julie Foe, podcast mastering by Greg Cortez at New Monkey Studio, and production dramaturgy by Amrita Ramanan. The Senior Manager of Business Operations and Partnerships at Next Chapter Podcasts is Sally Cade Holmes.
The Play On Podcast series, Coriolanus, is produced by Next Chapter Podcasts and is made possible by the generous support of the Hits Foundation. Visit ncpodcasts.com for more about the... Play On podcast series. Visit playonshakespeare.org for more about Play On Shakespeare. Hear more about the Play on Shakespeare podcast series by listening to bonus content at ncpodcast.com, where you'll find interviews with the artists, producers, and engineers who brought it all to life.
Don't forget to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Get started with the commerce platform made for entrepreneurs. Shopify is specially designed to help you start, run, and grow your business with easy, customizable themes that let you build your brand. Marketing tools that get your products out there. Integrated shipping solutions Sign up for your $1 a month trial at shopify.com slash setup. Next chapter podcasts.