Menenius.
Having determin'd of the Volscians, and
To send for Titus Lartius, it remains,
As the main point of this our after-meeting,
To gratify his noble service, that
Hath thus stood for his country. Therefore, please you,
Most reverend and grave elders, to desire
The present consul, and last general,
In our well found successes, 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.

First Senator.
Speak, good Cominius.

Cominius.
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: He stopt the fliers,
And by his rare example made the coward

Turn terror into sport. As waves before
A vessel under sail, so men obey'd,
And fell below his stern: his sword, (death's stamp)
Where it did mark, it took from face to foot;
He was a thing of blood, whose every motion
Was tim'd with dying groans: alone he entred
The mortal gate o'th' city, which he painted
With shunless destiny: Aidless came off,
And with a sudden re-enforcement struck
Corioli, like a planet. Nor all's this;
For by and by the din of war 'gan pierce
His ready sense, when strait his doubled spirit
Requicken'd what in body was fatigu'd,
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.

Menenius.
Worthy man!

First Senator.
He cannot but with measure fit the honours,
Which we devise him.

Cominius.
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 end it.

Menenius.
He's right noble,
Let him be call'd for.

First Senator.
Call Coriolanus.

Officer.
He doth appear.

Enter Coriolanus.

Menenius.
The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleas'd
To make thee Consul.

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

Menenius.
It then remains
That you do speak to the people.

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

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

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

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

Brutus.
Mark you that?

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

Menenius.
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.

Omnes.
To Coriolanus come all joy and honour, [Flourish cornets, then exeunt. Manent Sicinius and Brutus.

Brutus.
You see, how he intends to use the people.

Sicinius.
May they perceive's intent! he will require them,
As if he did contemn, what he requested,
Should be in them to give.

Brutus.
Come, we will inform them
Of our proceedings here: on the market place,
I know, they do attend us. [Exeunt.

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