Rome. A Public Place.
 Enter MENENIUS with the two Tribunes of the People, SICINIUS and BRUTUS.

Menenius	The augurer tells me we shall have news tonight.

Brutus	Good or bad?

Menenius	Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love 
	not Martius.

Sicinius	Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.

Menenius	Pray you, who does the wolf love?

Sicinius	The lamb.

Menenius	Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the noble 
	Martius.

Brutus	He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear.

Menenius	He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two are old 
	men; tell me one thing that I shall ask you.

Sicinius &
Brutus	Well, sir.

Menenius	In what enormity is Martius poor in, that you two have not 
	in abundance?

Brutus	He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all.

Sicinius	Especially in pride.

Brutus	And topping all others in boasting.

Menenius	This is strange now: do you two know how you are censured 
	here in the city, I mean of us o'th' right-hand file? Do 
	you?

Sicinius &
Brutus	Why, how are we censured?

Menenius	Because you talk of pride now - will you not be angry?

Sicinius &
Brutus	Well, well, sir; well.

Menenius	Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of 
	occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience. Give 
	your dispositions the reins and be angry at your pleasures; 
	at the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you in being 
	so. You blame Martius for being proud.

Brutus	We do it not alone, sir.

Menenius	I know you can do very little alone, for your helps are 
	many, or else your actions would grow wondrous single: your 
	abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone. You 
	talk of pride. O, that you could turn your eyes toward the 
	napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of 
	your good selves. O that you could!

Sicinius &
Brutus	What then, sir?

Menenius	Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, 
	violent, testy magistrates - alias fools - as any in Rome.

Sicinius	Menenius, you are known well enough too.

Menenius	I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves a 
	cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in't; 
	said to be something imperfect in favouring the first 
	complaint; hasty and tinder-like upon too trivial motion; 
	one that converses more with the buttock of the night than 
	with the forehead of the morning. What I think I utter, and 
	spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two such wealsmen as 
	you are - I cannot call you Lycurguses - if the drink you 
	give me touch my palate adversely, I make a crooked face at 
	it. I can say your worships have delivered the matter well, 
	when I find the ass in compound with the major part of your 
	syllables; and though I must be content to bear with those 
	that say you are reverend grave men, yet they lie deadly 
	that tell you have good faces. If you see this in the map 
	of my microcosm, follows it that I am known well enough 
	too? What harm can your bisson conspectuities glean out of 
	this character, if I be known well enough too?

Brutus	Come, sir, come, we know you well enough.

Menenius	You know neither me, yourselves, nor anything. You are 
	ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs: you wear out a 
	good wholesome forenoon in hearing a cause between an 
	orange-wife and a faucet-seller, and then rejourn the 
	controversy of threepence to a second day of audience. When 
	you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you 
	chance to be pinched with the colic, you make faces like 
	mummers, set up the bloody flag against all patience, and, 
	in roaring for a chamberpot, dismiss the controversy 
	bleeding, the more entangled by your hearing. All the peace 
	you make in their cause is calling both the parties 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 entombed in 
	an ass's pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying Martius 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. Good e'en 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 stand 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 Martius approaches; for the 
	love of Juno, let's go.

Menenius	Ha? Martius coming home?

Volumnia	Ay, worthy Menenius, and with most prosperous approbation.

Menenius	Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee. Hoo! Martius coming 
	home?

Virgilia &
Valeria	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 tonight. 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 disciplined 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 stayed by him, I would not have been so 'fidiussed for 
	all the chests in Corioles and the gold that's in them. Is 
	the Senate possessed 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! Martius is 
	coming home; he has more cause to be proud.
	[To VOLUMNIA.] 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 Martius. Before him he carries 
	noise, and behind him he leaves tears:
	Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie,
	Which, being advanced, declines, and then men die.

                        A sennet. Trumpets sound.
              Enter COMINIUS the General, and TITUS LARTIUS;
         between them CORIOLANUS, crowned with an oaken garland;
                 with CAPTAINS and SOLDIERS and a HERALD.

Herald	Know, Rome, that all alone Martius did fight
	Within Corioles gates: where he hath won,
	With fame, a name to Martius Caius: these
	In honour follows Coriolanus.
	Welcome to Rome, renownd Coriolanus.
												[Sound flourish.
All	Welcome to Rome, renownd 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, petitioned all the gods
	For my prosperity.
												[Kneels.
Volumnia							Nay, my good soldier, up;
	My gentle Martius, worthy Caius, and
	By deed-achieving honour newly named-
	What is it - Coriolanus? - must I call thee?
	But O, thy wife-

Coriolanus						My gracious silence, hail!
	Wouldst thou have laughed had I come coffined home,
	That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah, my dear,
	Such eyes the widows in Corioles 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 you're welcome all.

Menenius	A hundred thousand welcomes. I could weep,
	And I could laugh, I am light and heavy. Welcome.
	A curse begnaw 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 crabtrees 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 VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA.] Your hand, and yours.
	Ere in our own house I do shade my head,
	The good patricians must be visited;
	From whom I have received 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 advance.

Brutus	All tongues speak of him, and the bleard 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 smothered up, leads filled and ridges horsed
	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 veiled dames
	Commit the war of white and damask in
	Their nicely gauded 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								On the sudden,
	I warrant him Consul.

Brutus							Then our office may,
	During his power, go sleep.

Sicinius	He cannot temp'rately transport his honours
	From where he should begin and end, but will
	Lose those he hath won.

Brutus						In that there's comfort.

Sicinius										Doubt not
	The commoners, for whom we stand, but they
	Upon their ancient malice will forget
	With the least cause these his new honours; which
	That he will give them make I as little question
	As he is proud to do't.

Brutus							I heard him swear,
	Were he to stand for Consul, never would he
	Appear i'th' market-place, nor on him put
	The napless vesture of humility;
	Nor showing, as the manner is, his wounds
	To th' people, beg their stinking breaths.

Sicinius										'Tis right.

Brutus	It was his word. O, he would miss it rather
	Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him
	And the desire of the nobles.

Sicinius									I wish no better
	Than have him hold that purpose and to put it
	In execution.

Brutus				'Tis most like he will.

Sicinius	It shall be to him then, as our good wills,
	A sure destruction.

Brutus							So it must fall out
	To him; or our authority's for an end;
	We must suggest the people in what hatred
	He still hath held them: that to's power he would
	Have made them mules, silenced their pleaders, and
	Dispropertied their freedoms; holding them,
	In human action and capacity,
	Of no more soul nor fitness for the world
	Than camels in their war, who have their provand
	Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows
	For sinking under them.

Sicinius							This, as you say, suggested
	At some time when his soaring insolence
	Shall touch the people - which time shall not want,
	If he be put upon't; and that's as easy
	As to set dogs on sheep - will be his fire
	To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze
	Shall darken him for ever.

                            Enter a MESSENGER.

Brutus										What's the matter?

Messenger	You are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis thought
	That Martius shall be Consul.
	I have seen the dumb men throng to see him, and
	The blind to hear him speak. Matrons flung gloves,
	Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers,
	Upon him as he passed; the nobles bended,
	As to Jove's statue, and the commons made
	A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts:
	I never saw the like.

Brutus							Let's to the Capitol,
	And carry with us ears and eyes for th' time,
	But hearts for the event.

Sicinius								Have with you.
												[Exeunt.
