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a horse-drench. Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded.
Vir. Oh no, no, no.
Men. So do I too, if he be not too much; brings he a victory in his pocket, the wounds become him.
Vol. On's brows, Menenius ; he comes the third time home with the oaken garland.
Men. Hath he disciplin'd Aufidius soundly?
Vol. Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but Aufidius got off.
Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that: if he had staid by him, I would not have been so fidius'd for all the chefis in Corioli, and the gold that's in them. Is the Senate poffest of this?
Vol. Good Ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes: the Senate has letters from the General, wherein he gives my son the whole name of the war: he hath in this action out-done his former deeds doubly.
Val. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him.
Men. Wondrous! ay, I warrant ycu, and not without his true purchasing
Vir. The Gods grant them true!
Men. True?" I'll be sworn they are true. Where is he wounded? God save 3 'their good Worships a! Martius is coming home; he has more cause to be proud: --where is he wounded?
4' Val.' I'th' shoulder, and is th' left arm; there will be large cicatrices to shew the people, when he shall stand for his place. He receiv'd in the repulse of Tarquin seven hurts i th’ body.
Men. One i'ch' neck, sland one tool i'ch' thigh ; there's nine that I know.
Vol. He had, before his last expedition, twenty five wounds upon him. VOL. V.
Men, (a) Meaning the Tribunes. 3 your
5 and two . . , old edit. W'arb. emend,
Men. Now 'tis twenty seven: every galh was an ence my's grave. Hark, the trumpets. [X shout and flourish.
Vol. These are th' ushers of Martius; before him He carries noise, . 'behind him he leaves tears: Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lye, Which being advanc'd declines, and then men die. SCENE
NE III. Trumpets found. Enter Cominius the General and Titus
Lartius; between them Coriolanus, crown'd with an oaken garland, with Captains and Soldiers, and a Herald.
Her. Know, Rome, that all alone Martius did fight Within Corioli gates, where he hath won, With fame, a name to Caius Martius. Welcome to Rome, renown's Coriolanus !
[Sound. Flourish. All. Welcome to Rome, renown'd Coriolanus !
Cor. No more of this, it does offend my heart; Pray now, no more.
Com. Look, Sir, your mother.
[Kneels. Vol. Nay, my soldier, up: My gentle Martius, ''my worthy' Caius,
sideed-atchieved' honour newly nam’d, What is it, Coriolanus, must I call thee? But oh, thy wife
Cor. My gracious silence, hail! 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. Men. Now the Gods crown thee!
Cor. 6 and behind 7 worthy 8 deed-atchieving
Cor. And live you yet?-O my sweet Lady, pardon.
[To Val. Vol. I know not where to turn. O welcome home; And welcome, General! y’are welcome all.
Men. A hundred thousand welcomes: I could weep,
Com. Ever right.
Cor. Your hand, and yours.
Vol. I have lived,
Cor. Know, good mother, I
[Exeunt in sitate, as before.
SC E NE IV.
Into 9 change ...old edit. Theob. emend.
Into a rapture lets her baby cry,
Sic. On the sudden,
Bru. Then our office may,
Sic. He cannot temp'rately transport his honours,
Bru. In that there's comfort.
Sic. Doubt not
Bru. I heard him twear,
Sic. 'Tis right,
Bru. It was his word: oh, he would miss it, rather Than carry it, but by the suit o'th' Gentry,
And the desire oth' Nobles.
Sic. I wish no better,
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 " lour' end, We muit suggest the people, in what hatred He still hath held them; that to's power he would Have made them mules, filenc'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 3 'the war, who have their provender Only for bearing burthens, and fore blows For sinking under them.
Sic. This, as you say, suggested At some time when his soaring insolence Shall • 'touch the people, (which time shall not want, If he be put upon't, and that's as easie, As to set dogs on sheep) will be the fire To kindle their dry stubble ; and their blaze Shall darken him for ever.
Enter a Messenger.
Mef. You're sent for to the Capitol: 'tis thought
Bru. . 4 teach or reach