Vol. Titus Lartius writes,-they fought together, but Aufidius got off. Men. And 't was 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! Vol. True? pow, wow! 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. I' 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 Tarquin seven hurts i' the body. Men. One in the neck, and two in the thigh,—there's nine that I know. Vol. He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five wounds upon him. Men. Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave: [ a shout and flourish.] Hark! the trumpets. Vol. 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 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 Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! [Flourish. Com. Look, sir, your mother! Cor. O you have, I know, petition'd all the gods For my prosperity. Vol. Nay, my good soldier, up! My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, And by deed-achieving honour newly nam'd, Cor. My gracious silence, hail! [Kneels 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. Men. Now the gods crown thee! Cor. And live you yet?-O my sweet lady, pardon. [TO VALERIA. Vol. I know not where to turn;-O 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: Welcome : 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 not [To his wife and mother. Ere in our own house I do shade my head, From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings, Vol. To see inherited my very wishes, And the buildings of my fancy: I have liv'd Only there's one thing wanting, which I doubt not, But our Rome will cast upon thee. Cor. Know, good mother, I had rather be their servant in my way, On, to the Capitol! [Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before. The Tribunes remain. Bru. All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights Are spectacled to see him. Your prattling nurse а While she chats him; the kitchen malkin b pins Clambering the walls to eye him: Stalls, bulks, windows, In earnestness to see him: seld-shown flamens a Rapture-fit. b Malkin. A scarecrow, a figure of rags, is called a malkin. • Lockram was no doubt a coarse linen To win a vulgar station: our veil'd dames Sic. I warrant him consul. Bru. On the sudden, Then our office may, During his power, go sleep. Sic. He cannot temperately transport his honours From where he should begin, and end; but will Lose those he hath won. Bru. In that there 's comfort. Sic. 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 'll give them, make I as little question As he is proud to do 't. Bru. I heard him swear, Were he to stand for consul, never would he Appear i' the market-place, nor on him put The napless vesture of humility; a Nor, showing (as the manner is) his wounds "T is right. Bru. It was his word: O, he would miss it, rather Than carry it, but by the suit o' the gentry to him, And the desire of the nobles. Sic. I wish no better Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it Bru "T is most like, he will. Sic. It shall be to him then, as our good wills; A sure destructior. a Napless-threadbare. To him, or our authorities. For an end, We must suggest the people in what hatred He still hath held them; that, to his power, he would Of no more soul, nor fitness for the world, Than camels in their war; who have their provand For sinking under them. Sic. This, as you say,-suggested At some time when his soaring insolence Shall teach 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 Bru. Enter a Messenger. What 's the matter? Mess. You are sent for to the Capitol. "T is thought that Marcius 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 handkerchiefs, Upon him as he pass'd: the nobles bended, As to Jove's statue; and the commons made A shower and thunder, with their caps and shouts : Bru. Let's to the Capitol; And carry with us ears and eyes for the time, But hearts for the event. Sic. Have with you. [Exeunt. a This—this plan-is the antecedent to "will be his fire." |