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.

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