Men.
Go, get you to your house; be gone, away,
All will be naught else.

2 Sen.
Get you gone.

Com.
Stand fast, we have as many friends as enemies.

Men.
Shall it be put to that?

Sen.
The Gods forbid:
I pr'ythee noble friend, home to thy house,
Leave us to cure this cause.

Men.
For 'tis a sore
You cannot tent your self; begone, 'beseech you.

Com.
Come, Sir, along with us.

Men.
I would they were Barbarians, as they are,
Though in Rome litter'd; not Romans, as they are not,
Though calved in the porch o'th' Capitol:
Begone, put not your worthy rage into your tongue,
One time will owe another.

Cor.

On fair ground I could beat forty of them.

Men.

I could my self take up a brace o'th' best of them, yea the two Tribunes.

Com.
But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetick,
And manhood is call'd fool'ry when it stands
Against a falling fabrick. Will you hence,

Before the tag return, whose rage doth rend
Like interrupted waters, and o'erbear
What they are us'd to bear.

Men.
Pray you, be gone:
I'll try if my old wit be in request
With those that have but little; this must be patcht
With cloth of any colour.

Com.
Come away. [Exeunt Coriolanus and Cominius.

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