Sic.

We hear not of him, neither need we fear; his remedies are tame:

Bru.

We stood to't in good time. Is this Menenius?

Sci.

'Tis he, 'tis he: O, he is grown most kind of late. Hail, Sir!

Men

Hail to you both!

Sic.

Your Coriolanus is not much miss'd, but with his friends; the commonwealth doth stand, and would do, were he more angry at it.

Men.

All's well, and might have been much better, could he have temporiz'd.

Sic.
Where is he, hear you?

Men.
Nay, I hear nothing:
His mother and his wife hear nothing from him.

Bru.
There is a slave, whom we have put in prison,
Reports the Volscians, with two several powers,
Are entred in the Roman territories,
And with the deepest malice of the war,
Destroy what lies before 'em.

Men.
'Tis Aufidius,
Who hearing of our Marcius' banishment,
Thrusts forth his horns again into the world;
Which were in-shell'd, when Marcius stood for Rome,
And durst not once peep out. Enter a Roman Officer.

Off.
The nobles in great earnestness are going
All to the senate-house; some news is come
That turns their countenances.

Sic.
'Tis this slave:
Go scourge him 'fore the people's eyes: his raising!
Nothing but his report!

Off.
Yes, worthy Sir,
The slave's report is seconded, and more,
More fearful is delivered.

Sic.
What more fearful!

Off.
It is spoke freely out of many mouths,
How probable I do not know, that Marcius
Join'd with Aufidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome.

Sic.
This is most likely!

Bru.
Rais'd only, that the weaker sort may wish
Good Marcius home again.

Sic.
The very trick on't.

Men.
This is unlikely.
He and Aufidius can no more atone,
Than violentest contrarieties. Let's to the senate-house. [Exeunt.

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