Two boys bearing incense.

An officer with the Roman Eagle.

Two boys bearing incense.

Six dancing virgins with baskets of flowers.

Four priests with Torches

Eight senators.

Two officers.

Four trumpets.

Six lictors with fasces.

Two standard bearers, with Pegasus and the Ram.

Six soldiers.

A standard bearer with Fame.

Two officers with Trophies.

An officer.

A Bier, laden with spoils, supported by four soldiers.

A captive General in chains

Four soldiers with spears.

The Choir, consisting of

Four boys,

Six virgins,

Eight men,

A standard bearer, with the small eagle,

Two fifes,

Two drums,

Six lictors with fasces,

Four officers with Trophies,

An officer,

A Bier, laden with spoils, supported by four soldiers,

A captive General in chains,

Six soldiers,

Two officers,

Two officers, one with a Mural, the other with a Civic Crown,

Two officers, one bearing a painting of the city of Corioli; the other, the word Corioli, on banners.

Six virgins,

Four matrons,

Valeria,

Virgilia,

Volumnia,

Six lictors with fasces,

Cominius,

Menenius,

Caius Marcius Coriolanus,

An officer with the Roman Eagle,

Two officers,

Six lictors with fasces,

Eight officers with Trophies,

Six soldiers with swords and shields,

Twelve soldiers with spears.

Mar.
No more of this, it does offend my heart;
Pray now no more.

Com.
Look, Sir, your mother.

Mar.
Oh!
You have, I know, petition'd all the Gods,
For my prosperity. [Kneels.

Vol.
Nay, my soldier, up:
My gentle Marcius, my worthy Caius,
By deed-atchieved honour newly nam'd,
What is it, Coriolanus, must I call thee!
But oh! thy wife—

Mar.
My gracious silence, hail!
Would'st 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.

Vol.
I know not where to turn. O welcome home;
And welcome, general! y'are welcome all.

Men.
A hundred thousand welcomes: I could weep,
And I could laugh; I'm 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've 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.

Com.
Ever right.
Give way there, and go on.

Mar.
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 charge of honour.

Vol.
I have lived,
To see inherited my very wishes,
And buildings of my fancy; only one thing
Is wanting, which I doubt not but our Rome
Will cast upon thee.

Mar.
Know, good mother, I
Had rather be their servants, in my way,
Than sway with them, in theirs.

Com.
On, to the Capitol. [A grand march. [Exeunt in state, as before.

SCENE III. a Street. Enter Brutus and Sicinius.

Bru.
The dumb men throng to see him, and the blind
To hear him speak; the matrons flung their 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
It shower and thunder with their caps and shouts:
I never saw the like; such a pother,
As if that whatsoever God who leads him,
Were slily crept into his human powers,
And gave him graceful posture.

Sic.
On the sudden,
I warrant him consul.

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

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

Bru.
In that there's comfort.
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 shewing, as the manner is, his wounds
To th' people, beg their stinking breaths.

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

Bru.
'Tis most like he will.

Sic.
It shall be to him then, as our good wills;
A sure destruction. Enter a Roman Officer.

Bru.
What's the matter?

Offi.
You're sent for to the Capitol: 'ts thought
That Marcius shall be consul:

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

Sic.
Have with you. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The Senate-house. Flourish. The Patricians, Caius Marcius Coriolanus, Menenius, Cominius, Sicinius, and Brutus.

Men.
Having determin'd of the Volscians, it remains,
Most reverend and grave elders, to desire
The present consul, and last general,
To report
A little of that worthy work perform'd

By Caius Marcius Coriolanus; whom
We meet here, both to thank, and to remember,
With honours like himself.
Worthy Cominius, speak. [Marcius rises, and offers to go away.
Sit, Coriolanus; never shame to hear
What you have nobly done,

Mar.
Your honour's pardon:
I had rather have my wounds to heal again,
Than hear say how I got them.

Men.
Pray now, sit down.

Mar.
I had rather have one scratch my head i'th' sun,
When the al'rum were struck, that idly sit
To hear my nothings monster'd. [Exit Marcius.

Men.
Masters of the people,
Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter,
When you see
He had rather venture all his limbs for honour,
Than one of's ears to hear't? proceed, Cominius.

Com.
I shall lack voice; the deeds of Coriolanus
Should not be utter'd feebly. It is held
That valour is the chiefest virtue, and
Most dignifies the haver: if it be,
The man I speak of cannot, in the world,
Be singly counter-pois'd. At sixteen years,
When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought
Beyond the mark of others:
And in the brunt of seventeen battles, since,
He lurcht all swords o'th' garland. For this last,
Before, and in Corioli, let me say

I cannot speak him home:
Alone he enter'd
The mortal gate o'th' city: aidless came off,
And with a sudden re-inforcement struck
Corioli, like a planet. Nor's this all
For by and by, the din of war 'gan pierce
His ready sense, where straight his doubled spirit
Requicken'd what in flesh was fatigate,
And to the battle came he; where he did
Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if
'Twere a perpetual spoil; and till we call'd
Both field and city ours, he never stood
To ease his breast with panting

Men.
Worthy man!

Com.
All our spoils he kick'd at,
And look'd upon things precious, as they were
The common muck o'th' world: he covets less
Than misery itself would give, rewards
His deeds with doing them, and is content
To spend his time to spend it.

Men.
He's right noble,
Let him be call'd for. [Exit Roman Officer.

Com.
He doth appear. Enter Coriolanus and a Roman Officer.

Men.
The Senate, Coriolanus, are well pleas'd
To make thee Consul.

Mar.
I do owe them still
My life, and services.

Men.
It then remains
That you do speak to th' people.

Mar.
I beseech you,
Let me o'er-leap that custom; for I cannot
Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them,
For my wounds sake, to give their suffrage:
Please you that I may pass this doing.

Sic.
Sir, the people must have their voices,
Nor will they bate one jot of ceremony.

Men.
Put them not to't: pray fit you to the custom.
And take t'ye, as your predecessors have,
Your honour with the form.

Mar.
It is a part
That I shall blush in acting, and might well
Be taken from the people.

Bru.
Mark you that?

Mar.
To brag unto them, thus I did, and thus,
Shew them th' unaking scars, which I would hide,
As if I had receiv'd them for the hire
Of their breath only—

Men.
Do not stand upon't:—
We recommend t'ye, tribunes of the people,
Our purpose. To them, and to our noble consul
Wish we all joy and honour.

Com.
To Coriolanus come all joy and honour! Flourish. [Exeunt.

SCENE V. A Street. Enter Citizensr

2. Cit.

Once for all, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him.

1. Cit.

We may, Sir, if we will.

2. Cit.

We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a power that we have no power to do; for if he shew us his wounds, and tell us his deeds, we are to put our tongues into those wounds, and speak for them: so, if he tells us his noble deeds, we must also tell him of our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is monstrous, and for the multitude to be ungrateful, were to make a monster of the multitude; of the which we being members, should bring ourselves to be monstrous members.

1 Cit.

Here he comes, and in the gown of humility; mark his behaviour: we are not to stay all together, but to come by him where he stands, by one's, by two's, and by three's. He's to make his requests by particulars, wherein every one of us has a single honour, in giving him our own voices with our own tongues: therefore follow me, and I'll direct you how you shall go by him.

All.
Content, content. [Exeunt Citizens. Enter Marcius in a gown, with Menenius.

Men.
Oh Sir, you are not right; have you not known

The worthiest men have done't?

Mar.
What must I say?
I Pray, Sir,—plague upon't, I cannot bring
My tongue to such a pace. Look, Sir,—my wounds—
I got them in my country's service, when
Some certain of your brethren roar'd, and ran
From noise of our own drums.

Men.
Oh me, the Gods!
You must not speak of that, you must desire them
To think upon you.

Mar.
Think upon me? hang 'em.
I would they would forget me,

Men.
You'll mar all.
I'll leave you: pray you speak to 'em, I pray you,
In wholsome manners. [Exit. Enter 1 and 2 Citizens.

Mar.
So here come a brace:
You know the cause, Sirs, of my standing here.

1 Cit.
We do, Sir; tell us what hath brought you to't.

Mar.
Mine own desert.

2 Cit.
Your own desert?

Mar.
Ay, not mine own desire?

1 Cit.
How, not your own desire?

Mar.

No, Sir, 'twas never my desire yet to trouble the poor with begging.

1 Cit.

You must think, if we give you any thing, we hope to gain by you.

Mar.

Well then, I pray, your price o'th' consulship?

1 Cit.

The price is, to ask it kindly.

Mar.

Kindly, Sir, I pray let me ha't: I have wounds to shew you, which shall be yours in private: your good voice, Sir; what say you?

2 Cit.

You shall ha't, worthy Sir.

Mar.

A match, Sir; there's in all two worthy voices begg'd: I have your alms, adieu.

1 Cit.

But this is something odd.

2 Cit.

An 'twere to give again:—but 'tis no matter.

Mar.
Most sweet voices—
Better it is to die, better to starve,
Than crave the hire, which first we do deserve.
Here come more voices. Enter the other Citizens.
Your voices—for your voices I have fought,
Watch'd for your voices; for your voices, bear
Of wounds two dozen and odd: battles thrice six
I've seen and heard of:—your voices:
Indeed I would be consul.

3 Cit.

He has done nobly, and cannot go without any honest man's voice.

4 Cit.

Therefore let him be consul: the Gods give him joy, and make him a good friend to the people!

All.
Amen, amen. Save thee, noble consul! [Exeunt Citizens

Mar.
Worthy voices!

Enter Menenius, Brutus, and Sicinius.

Men.
You've stood your limitation: and the tribunes
Endue you with the people's voice: Remains,
That in th' official marks invested, you
Anon do meet the senate.

Mar.
Is this done?

Sic.
The custom of request you have discharg'd:
The people do admit you, and are summon'd
To meet anon upon your approbation.

Mar.
Where? at the senate-house?

Sic.
There, Coriolanus.

Mar.
May I then change these garments?

Sic.
Sir, you may.

Mar.
That I'll straight do: and knowing myself again,
Repair to th' senate-house. [Exit Mar.

Men.
I'll keep you company. Will you along?

Bru.
We stay here for the people.

Sic.
Fare you well. [Exit Men.
He has it now, and by his looks, methinks
'Tis warm at's heart.

Bru.
With a proud heart he wore
His humble weeds: will you dismiss the people? Enter all the Citizens.

Sic.

How now, my masters, have you chose this man?

2 Cit.
He has our voices, Sir.

Bru.
We pray the Gods he may deserve your loves.

1 Cit.
Amen, Sir: to my poor unworthy notice,
He mock'd us, when he begg'd our voices.

3 Cit.
Certainly he flouted us, downright

2 Cit.

No, 'tis his kind of speech, he did not mock us.

1 Cit.
Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says
He us'd us scornfully: he should have shew'd us
His marks of merit, wounds received for's country.

Sic.
Why so he did, I am sure.

1 Cit.
No man saw 'em.
He said he'd wounds which he could shew in private:
I would be consul, says he; aged custom,
But by your voices, will not so permit me;
Your voices, theresore: when we granted that,
Here was—I thank you for your voices—thank you—
Your most sweet voices—now you have left your voices,
I have nothing further with you. Wa'n't this mockery?

Sic.
Why either were you ignorant to see't?
Or seeing it, of such childish friendliness,
To yield your voices?

Bru.
Did you perceive,
He did solicit you in free contempt,
When he did need your loves, and do you think

That his contempt shall not be bruising to you,
When he hath power to crush?

Sic.
Have you,
Ere now, deny'd the asker; and now again,
On him that did not ask, but mock, bestow'd
Your su'd-for tongues?

3 Cit.
He's not confirm'd, we may
Deny him yet.

2 Cit.
Ay, and we will deny him.

Bru.
Get you hence instantly, and tell your friends,
They've chose a consul that will from them take
Their liberties, make them of no more voice,
Than dogs that are as often beat for barking,
As therefore kept to do so.

Sic.
Enforce his pride, and his old hate to you.
Say, you chose him more after our commandment,
Than guided by your own affections.
Lay the fault on us.

Bru.
Ay, spare us not.
Say, you ne'er had done't,
(Harp on that still) but by our putting on;
And presently, when you have drawn your number,
Repair to th' Capitol,

All.
We will; we will. Huzza! [Exeunt. End of the Second Act.