278 CORIOLANUS. [Act II.
Vol. These are the ushers of Marcius : beforehim
He carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears;Death , that dark spirit, in’s nervy arm doth lie;Which being advanc’d, declines; and then mendie.
A Sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter Cominiusand Titus Lartius ; between them, Com o-i,axus, crowned with an oaken garland; withCaptains, Soldiers, and a Herald.
Her. Know, Rome , that all alone Marcius did fight
Within Corioli’ gates : where he hath won,
With fame, a name to Caius Marcius ; theseIn 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;l’ray now, no more.
Com. Look, sir, your mother,-
Cor. <)!
You have, I know, petition’d all the godsFor my prosperity. [ Kneels.
Vol. Nay, my good soldier, up;
My gentle Marcius , worthy Caius, andBy deed-achieving honour newly nam’d,
What is it ? Coriolanus, must I call thee ?
But 0, thy wife-
Cur. My gracious silence, hail!
Would’st thou have laugh’d, had I come cof-fin’d home,
That weep’st to see me triumph ? Ah, my dear,Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear,
And mothers that lack sons.
Men. Now the gods crown thee!
Cor. And live you yet ?—0 my sweet lady,pardon. [7’o Valeria.
Vol. I know not where to turn :—O welcomehome ;
And welcome, general;—And you are welcomeall.
Men. A hundred thousand welcomes: I couldweep,
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 ofmen,
We have some old crab-trees here at home, thatwill not
Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors:We call a nettle, but a nettle; andThe faults of fools, but folly.
Com. Ever right.
Her. Give way there, and go on.
Cor. Y our hand, and yours :
[To his wife and mother.Ere in our own house I do shade my head,
'The good patricians must be visited;
I
From whom I have receiv’d not only greetings,But with them change of honours.
Vol. I have livedTo see inherited my very wishes,
And the buildings of my fancy: only thereIs one thing wanting, which I doubt not, butOur Rome will cast upon thee.
Cor. Know, good mother,
I had rather he their servant in my way,
Than sway with them in theirs.
Com. On, to the Capitol.
^Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state,as before. The Tribunes remain.Bru. All tongues speak of him, and the blear-ed sights
Are spectacled to see him: Y our prattling nurseInto a rapture lets her baby cry,
While she chats him: the kitchen malkin pinsHer richest lockram ’bout her reecliy neck,Clambering the walls to eye him: Stalls, hulks,windows,
Are smother’d up, leads fill’d, and ridges hors’dWith variable complexions; all agreeingIn earnestness to see him : seld-shown flamensDo press among the popular throngs, and puffTo win a vulgar station : our veil’d damesCommit the war of white and damask inTheir nicely-gawded cheeks, to the wanton spoilOf Phoebus’ 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. On the sudden,
I warrant him consul.
Bru. Then our office may,
During his power, go sleep.
Sic. He cannot temperately transport his ho-nours
From where he should begin, and end; but willLose those that he hath won.
Bru. In that there’s comfort.
Sic. Doubt not, the commoners, for whom westand,
But they, upon their ancient malice, willForget, with the least cause, these his new ho-nours ;
Which that he’ll give them, make as little ques-tion
As he is proud to do’t.
Bru. I heard him swear,
Were he to stand for consul, never would heAppear i’the market-place, nor on him putThe napless vesture of humility ;
Nor showing (as the manner is) his woundsTo the people, beg their stinking breaths.
Sic. ’Tis right.
Bru. It was his word: O, he would miss it,rather
Than carry it, butbythe suit o’the gentry to him,And the desire of the nobles.
Sic. I wish no better,
Than have him hold that purpose, and to put itIn execution.