Herald.
Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight
Within Corioli gates, where he hath won,
With fame, a name to Caius Marcius.
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus.

All.
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus.

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

Cominius.
Look, Sir, your mother—

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

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

Coriolanus.
My gracious silence, hail!
Thou moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle
That's curdled by the frost from purest snow,
And hang's on Dian's temple. Dear Volumnia,
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.

Volumnia.
This is a poor epitome of yours; [Presenting his son to him.
Which, by the interpretation of full time,
May shew like all yourself.

Coriolanus.
The God of soldiers,
With the consent of supreme Jove, inform
Thy thoughts with nobleness, that thou may'st prove
To shame invulnerable, and stick i' th' wars,
Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw,
And saving those that eye thee!

Menenius.
Now the Gods crown thee!

Veturia.
I know not where to turn. O welcome home!
And wecome general! Y'are welcome all!

Menenius.
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 very 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. Welcome, warriors!
We call a nettle but a nettle, and
The faults of fools but folly.

Cominius.
Ever right.

Coriolanus.
Menenius, ever, ever.

Herald.
Give way there, and go on.

Coriolanus.
'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 honours.

Veturia.
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.

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

Cominius.
On to the Capitol. [Flourish, exeunt in state as before.

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