• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

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!

CORIOLANUS.

And live you yet? [To VALERIA] O my sweet lady, pardon.

VOLUMNIA.

I know not where to turn.

O, welcome home! And welcome, General.

And y'are welcome all.

MENENIUS.

A hundred thousand welcomes. I could weep

And I could laugh; I am light and heavy. Welcome!

A curse begin at very root on's heart

That is not glad to see thee! You are three

That Rome should dote on; yet, by the faith of men,

We have some old crab trees here at home that will not

Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors.

We call a nettle but a nettle, and

The faults of fools but folly.

COMINIUS.

Ever right.

CORIOLANUS.

Menenius ever, ever.

HERALD.

Give way there, and go on.

CORIOLANUS.

[To his wife and mother] Your hand, and yours.

Ere in our own house I do shade my head,

The good patricians must be visited;

From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings,

But with them change of honours.

VOLUMNIA.

I have lived

To see inherited my very wishes,

And the buildings of my fancy; only

There's one thing wanting, which I doubt not but

Our Rome will cast upon thee.

CORIOLANUS.

Know, good mother,

I had rather be their servant in my way

Than sway with them in theirs.

COMINIUS.

On, to the Capitol.

[Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before]

BRUTUS and SICINIUS come forward

BRUTUS.

All tongues speak of him and the bleared sights

Are spectacled to see him. Your prattling nurse

Into a rapture lets her baby cry

While she chats him; the kitchen malkin pins

Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck,

Clamb'ring the walls to eye him; stalls, bulks, windows,

Are smother'd up, leads fill'd and ridges hors'd

With variable complexions, all agreeing

In earnestness to see him. Seld-shown flamens

Do press among the popular throngs and puff

To win a vulgar station; our veil'd dames

Commit the war of white and damask in

Their nicely gawded cheeks to th' wanton spoil

Of Phoebus' burning kisses. Such a pother,

As if that whatsoever god who leads him

Were slily crept into his human powers,

And gave him graceful posture.

SICINIUS.