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VIRGILIA:
Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw't.
MENENIUS:
A letter for me! it gives me an estate of seven
years' health; in which time I will make a lip at
the physician: the most sovereign prescription in
Galen is but empiricutic, and, to this preservative,
of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he
not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded.
VIRGILIA:
O, no, no, no.
VOLUMNIA:
O, he is wounded; I thank the gods for't.
MENENIUS:
So do I too, if it be not too much: brings a'
victory in his pocket? the wounds become him.
VOLUMNIA:
On's brows: Menenius, he comes the third time home
with the oaken garland.
MENENIUS:
Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly?
VOLUMNIA:
Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but
Aufidius got off.
MENENIUS:
And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that:
an he had stayed by him, I would not have been so
fidiused for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold
that's in them. Is the senate possessed of this?
VOLUMNIA:
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 outdone his former deeds doubly
VALERIA:
In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him.
MENENIUS:
Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without his
true purchasing.
VIRGILIA:
The gods grant them true!
VOLUMNIA:
True! pow, wow.
MENENIUS:
True! I'll be sworn they are true.
Where is he wounded?
God save your good worships! Marcius is coming
home: he has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded?
VOLUMNIA:
I' the shoulder and i' the left arm there will be
large cicatrices to show the people, when he shall
stand for his place. He received in the repulse of
Tarquin seven hurts i' the body.
MENENIUS:
One i' the neck, and two i' the thigh,--there's
nine that I know.
VOLUMNIA:
He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five
wounds upon him.
MENENIUS:
Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave.
Hark! the trumpets.
VOLUMNIA:
These are the ushers of Marcius: before him he
carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears:
Death, that dark spirit, in 's nervy arm doth lie;
Which, being advanced, declines, and then men die.
Herald:
Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight
Within Corioli gates: where he hath won,
With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these
In honour follows Coriolanus.
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!
All:
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!
CORIOLANUS:
No more of this; it does offend my heart:
Pray now, no more.