1 Sen.
This man has marr'd his fortune.

Men.
His nature is too noble for the world:
He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,
Or Jove for's power to thunder: his heart's his mouth:
What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent;
And being angry, does forget that ever
He heard the name of death. [A noise within.
Here's goodly work.

2 Sen.
I would they were a-bed.

Men.
I would they were in Tyber. What the vengeance,
Could he not speak 'em fair? Enter Brutus and Sicinius, with the rabble again.

Sic.
Where is this viper,
That would depopulate the city, and
Be every man himself?

Men.
You worthy Tribunes—

Sic.
He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock
With rigorous hands; he hath resisted law,
And therefore law shall scorn him further tryal
Than the severity of publick power,

Which he so sets at nought.

1 Cit.
He shall well know the noble Tribunes are
The peoples mouths, and we their hands.

All.
He shall be sure on't.

Men.
Sir, Sir.—

Sic.
Peace.

Men.
Do not cry havock, where you should but hunt
With modest warrant.

Sic.
Sir, how comes it you
Have holp to make this rescue?

Men.
Hear me speak;
As I do know the Consul's worthiness,
So can I name his faults—

Sic.
Consul!—what Consul!

Men.
The Consul Coriolanus.

Bru.
He Consul!—

All.
No, no, no, no, no.

Men.
If by the Tribunes leave, and yours good people,
I may be heard, I'd crave a word or two,
The which shall turn you to no further harm,
Than so much loss of time.

Sic.
Speak briefly then,
For we are peremptory to dispatch
This viperous traitor; to eject him hence
Were but one danger, and to keep him here
Our certain death; therefore it is decreed
He dies to-night.

Men.
Now the good Gods forbid,
That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude
Tow'rds her deserving children, is enroll'd
In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam
Should now eat up her own.

Sic.
He's a disease that must be cut away.

Men.
Oh, he's a limb, that has but a disease;
Mortal, to cut it off; to cure it, easie.
What has he done to Rome, that's worthy death?
Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost
(Which I dare vouch, is more than that he hath,
By many an ounce) he dropt it for his country:
And what is left, to lose it by his country,
Were to us all that do't, and suffer it,
A brand to th' end o'th' world.

Sic.
This is clean wrong.

Bru.
Meerly awry: when he did love his country
It honour'd him.

Men.
The service of the foot,
Being once gangreen'd, it is not then respected
For what before it was—

Bru.
We'll hear no more.
Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence,
Lest his infection, being of catching nature,
Spread further.

Men.
One word more, one word:
This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find
The harm of unskann'd swiftness, will (too late)
Tye leaden pounds to's heels. Proceed by process,
Lest parties (as he is belov'd) break out,
And sack great Rome with Romans.

Bru.
If 'twere so—

Sic.
What do ye talk?
Have we not had a taste of his obedience?
Our Ædiles smote, our selves resisted, come—

Men.
Consider this; he hath been bred i'th' wars
Since he could draw a sword, and is ill-school'd
In boulted language, meal and bran together
He throws without distinction. Give me leave,

I'll go to him, and undertake to bring him
Where he shall answer by a lawful form,
In peace, to his utmost peril.

1 Sen.
Noble Tribunes,
It is the human way: the other course
Will prove too bloody, and the end of it
Unknown to the beginning.

Sic.
Noble Menenius,
Be you then as the peoples officer.
Masters, lay down your weapons,

Bru.
Go not home.

Sic.
Meet on the forum; we'll attend you there,
Where, if you bring not Martius, we'll proceed
In our first way.

Men.
I'll bring him to you.
Let me desire your company; he must come,
Or what is worst will follow.

1 Sen.
Pray let's to him. [Exeunt.

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