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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, Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors, since Deucalion; though, peradven. ture, some of the best of them were hereditary hangmen. Good een to your worships; more of your conversation would infect my brain, being the herds. men of the beastly plebeians: I will be bold to take my leave of you.
(Bru. and Sic. retire to the back of the scene.
Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria, &c.
How now, my as fair as noble ladies (and the moon, were she earthly, no nobler ?) whither do you follow your eyes so fast?
Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius apo proaches ; for the love of Juno, let's go.
Men. Ha! Marcius coming home?
Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most pros. perous approbation.
Men. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee: Hoo! Marcius coming home?
Two Ladies. Nay, 'tis true,
Vol. Look, here's a letter from him ; the state hath another, his wife another; and, I think, there's one at home for you.
Men. I will make my very house reel to-night:A letter for me?
Vir. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw it.
Men. 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 empiricutick, and, to this preservative, of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he vot wounded? he was wont to come liome wounded,
Vir. O, no, no, no.
Men. So do I too, if it be not too much : Brings 'a victory in his pocket-The wounds become him.
Vol. On's brows, Menenius : he comes the third time home with the oaken garland.
Men. Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly?
Vol. Titus Lartius writes,--they fought together, but Aufidius got off.
Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that: an he had staid by him, I would not have been so fidiused for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold that's in them. Is the senate possessed* of this?
Vol. 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.
Val. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him.
Men. Wondrous? ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing.
Vir. The gods grant them true!
Men. True? I'll be sworn they are true:- Where is he wounded ?-God save your good worships ! (To the Tribunes, who come forward.] Marcius is coming home; he has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded?
Vol. l' the shoulder, and i' the left arm : There will be large cicatrices to show the people, when he shall stand for his place. He received in the repulse of Tarquiv, seven hurts i' the body.
Men. Que in the neck, and two in the thigh, there's nine that I know.
Vol. He had, before this last expedition, twentyfive wounds upon him.
Men, Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave: (A shout, and flourish.] Hark! the trurapets.
Vol. These are the ushers of Marcius: before him
• Fully informed.
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 and
Titus Lartius; between them, Coriolanus, crowned with an oaken garland; with Captains, Soldiers and a Herald.
Her. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight Within Corioli's gates: where he hath won, With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these In honour follows, Coriolanus: Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus !
(Flourish. Al. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus !
Cor. No more of this, it does offend my heart;
Look, sir, your mother,
Nay, my good soldier, up;
My gracious silence, hail!
Now the gods crown thee! Cor. And live you yet?-O my sweet lady, par. don.
(To Valeria. Vol. I know not where to turn :- welcome
home; And welcome, general;—And you are welcome all.
Men. A hundred thousand welcomes: I could
weep, And I could laugh; I am light, and heavy: Wel
come: A curse begin at very root of his 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
Your hand, and yours:
[To his wife and mother.
I have lived
Know, good mother,
On, to the Capitol. [Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before.
The Tribunes remain.
Her richest lockram* 'bout her reechyt neck,
On the sudden,
Then our office may,
Sic. He cannot temperately transport bis honours From wliere he should begin, and end; but will Lose those that he hath won. Bru.
In that there's comfort. Sic. Doubt not the commoners, for whom we
I heard him swear,
• Best linen.