In honour follows, Coriolanus:

Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! [Flourish.

All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! Cor. No more of this; it does offend my heart; Pray now, no more.

Look, sir, your mother,

Com.

Cor.

You have, I know, petition'd all the gods

For my prosperity.

O!

[Kneels.

Vol.
Nay, my good soldier, up;
My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and
By deed-achieving honour newly nam'd,
What is it? Coriolanus, must I call thee?
But O, thy wife—

Cor.

My gracious silence, hail 23!

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.

Now the gods crown thee!

Men.
Cor. And live you yet?-O my sweet lady, pardon.
[To Valeria.
Vol. I know not where to turn:-O welcome

home;

And welcome, general;-And you are welcome all. Men. A hundred thousand welcomes: I could weep, And I could laugh; I am light, and heavy: Welcome : A curse begin at very root of his heart,

That is not glad to see thee!-You are three,

That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith of men, We have some old crab-trees here at home, that will not Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors: We call a nettle, but a nettle; and

The faults of fools, but folly.

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 change of honours.

Vol.

To see inherited my very wishes,

I have liv'd

And the buildings of my fancy: only there
Is one thing wanting, which I doubt not, but
Our Rome will cast upon thee.

Cor.

I had rather be their servant in my way,

Than sway with them in theirs.

Com.

Know, good mother,

On, to the Capitol.

[Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before. The Tribunes come forward.

Bru. All tongues speak of him, and the bleared

sights

Are spectacled to see him: Your pratling nurse

Into a rapture lets her baby cry,

While she chats him: the kitchen malkin pins

Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck,

Clambering the walls to eye him: Stalls, bulks, win

dows,

Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges hors'd
With variable complexions; all agreeing

In earnestness to see him: seld-shown flamens 24
Do press among the popular throngs, and puff
To win a vulgar station: our veil'd dames
Commit the war of white and damask, in
Their nicely-gawded cheeks, to the wanton spoil
Of Phœbus' burning kisses: such a pother,
As if that whatsoever god, who leads him,
Were slily crept into his human powers,
And gave him graceful posture.

Sic.

I warrant him consul.

Bru.

On the sudden,

Then our office may,

During his power, go sleep.

Sic. He cannot temperately transport his honours From where he should begin, and end; but will

Lose those that he hath won.

Bru.

In that there's comfort.

Sic. Doubt not, the commoners, for whom we

stand,

But they, upon their ancient malice, will

Forget, with the least cause, these his new honours; Which that he'll give them, make I as little question As he is proud to do't.

Bru.

I heard him swear,

Were he to stand for consul, never would he

Appear i'the market-place, nor on him put
The napless vesture of humility;

Nor, showing (as the manner is) his wounds

To the people, beg their stinking breaths.

Sic.

"Tis right.

Bru. It was his word: O, he would miss it, rather Than carry it, but by the suit o' the gentry to him, And the desire of the nobles.

I wish no better,

Sic.
Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it
In execution.

Bru.

'Tis most like, he will.

Sic. It shall be to him then, as our good wills; A sure destruction.

Bru.

So it must fall out

To him, or our authorities. For an end,

We must suggest the people, in what hatred

He still hath held them; that, to his power, he would Have made them mules, silenc'd their pleaders, and Disproperty'd their freedoms: holding them,

In human action and capacity,

Of no more soul, nor fitness for the world,

Than camels in their war; who have their provand Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows

For sinking under them.

Sic.

This, as you say, suggested

At some time when his soaring insolence

Shall teach the people, (which time shall not want,

If he be put upon't; and that's as easy,

As to set dogs on sheep,) will be his fire

To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze

Shall darken him for ever.

Bru.

Enter a Messenger.

What's the matter?

Mess. You are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis thought, That Marcius shall be consul: I have seen

The dumb men throng to see him, and the blind
To hear him speak: The matrons flung their gloves,
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs,
Upon him as he pass'd: the nobles bended,

As to Jove's statue; and the commons made
A shower, and thunder, with their caps, and shouts:
I never saw the like.

Bru.

Let's to the Capitol;

And carry with us ears and eyes for the time,
But hearts for the event.

Sic.

Have with you. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The Same. The Capitol.

Enter two Officers, to lay cushions.

1 Off. Come, come, they are almost here: How many stand for consulships?

2 Off. Three, they say: but 'tis thought of every one, Coriolanus will carry it.

1 Off. That's a brave fellow; but he's vengeance proud, and loves not the common people.