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knaves. You are a pair of strange ones.
BRUTUS. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter giber
for the table than a necessary bencher in the Capitol.
MENENIUS. Our very priests must become mockers, if they shall
encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When you speak
best unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging of your
beards; and your beards deserve not so honourable a grave as to
stuff a botcher's cushion or to be entomb'd in an ass's
pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying Marcius is proud; who, in a
cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors since Deucalion;
though peradventure some of the best of 'em were hereditary
hangmen. God-den to your worships. More of your conversation
would infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly
plebeians. I will be bold to take my leave of you.
[BRUTUS and SICINIUS go aside]
Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and VALERIA
How now, my as fair as noble ladies- and the moon, were she
earthly, no nobler- whither do you follow your eyes so fast?
VOLUMNIA. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for the
love of Juno, let's go.
MENENIUS. Ha! Marcius coming home?
VOLUMNIA. Ay, worthy Menenius, and with most prosperous
approbation.
MENENIUS. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee. Hoo!
Marcius coming home!
VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA. Nay, 'tis true.
VOLUMNIA. Look, here's a letter from him; the state hath another,
his wife another; and I think there's one at home for you.
MENENIUS. I will make my very house reel to-night. A letter for me?
VIRGILIA. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw't.
MENENIUS. A letter for me! It gives me an estate of seven years'
health; in which time I will make a lip at the physician. The
most sovereign prescription in Galen is but empiricutic and, to
this preservative, of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he
not wounded? He was wont to come home wounded.
VIRGILIA. O, no, no, no.
VOLUMNIA. O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't.
MENENIUS. So do I too, if it be not too much. Brings a victory in
his pocket? The wounds become him.
VOLUMNIA. On's brows, Menenius, he comes the third time home with
the oaken garland.
MENENIUS. Has he disciplin'd Aufidius soundly?
VOLUMNIA. Titus Lartius writes they fought together, but Aufidius
got off.
MENENIUS. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that; an he
had stay'd by him, I would not have been so fidius'd for all the
chests in Corioli and the gold that's in them. Is the Senate
possess'd of this?
VOLUMNIA. Good ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes: the Senate has
letters from the general, wherein he gives my son the whole name
of the war; he hath in this action outdone his former deeds
doubly.
VALERIA. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him.
MENENIUS. Wondrous! Ay, I warrant you, and not without his true
purchasing.
VIRGILIA. The gods grant them true!
VOLUMNIA. True! pow, waw.
MENENIUS. True! I'll be sworn they are true. Where is he wounded?
[To the TRIBUNES] God save your good worships! Marcius is coming
home; he has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded?
VOLUMNIA. I' th' shoulder and i' th' left arm; there will be large
cicatrices to show the people when he shall stand for his place.
He received in the repulse of Tarquin seven hurts i' th' body.
MENENIUS. One i' th' neck and two i' th' thigh- there's nine that I
know.
VOLUMNIA. He had before this last expedition twenty-five wounds
upon him.
MENENIUS. Now it's twenty-seven; every gash was an enemy's grave.
[A shout and flourish] Hark! the trumpets.
VOLUMNIA. These are the ushers of Marcius. Before him he carries
noise, and behind him he leaves tears;
Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie,
Which, being advanc'd, declines, and then men die.
A sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter COMINIUS the
GENERAL, and TITUS LARTIUS; between them,
CORIOLANUS, crown'd with an oaken garland; with
CAPTAINS and soldiers and a HERALD
HERALD. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight
Within Corioli gates, where he hath won,
With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these
In honour follows Coriolanus.
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! [Flourish]
ALL. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!
CORIOLANUS. No more of this, it does offend my heart.
Pray now, no more.
COMINIUS. Look, sir, your mother!
CORIOLANUS. O,
You have, I know, petition'd all the gods
For my prosperity! [Kneels]
VOLUMNIA. Nay, my good soldier, up;
My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and
By deed-achieving honour newly nam'd-
What is it? Coriolanus must I can thee?
But, O, thy wife!
CORIOLANUS. My gracious silence, hail!
Wouldst thou have laugh'd had I come coffin'd home,
That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah, my dear,
Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear,
And mothers that lack sons.
MENENIUS. Now the gods crown thee!