O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't.

MEN. So do I too, if it be not too much. Brings '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. Has 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; and he had stay'd by him, I would not have been so fidius'd for all the chests in Corioles, and the gold that's in them. Is the Senate possess'd 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 outdone his former deeds doubly.

VAL. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him.

MEN. Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing.

VIR. The gods grant them true!

VOL. True? pow, waw.

MEN. True? I'll be sworn they are true. Where is he wounded? [To the Tribunes.] God save your good worships! Martius is coming home; he has more cause to be proud. – Where is he wounded?

VOL. I' th' shoulder and i' th' left arm. There will be large cicatrices to show 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' th' neck, and two i' th' thigh – there's nine that I know.

VOL. He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five wounds upon him.

MEN. Now it's twenty-seven; every gash was an enemy's grave. (A shout and flourish.) Hark, the trumpets.

VOL. These are the ushers of Martius: before him 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 men die.

 

A sennet. Trumpets sound. 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 Corioles gates; where he hath won,

With fame, a name to Martius Caius; these

In honor follows Coriolanus.

Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!

 

Sound. Flourish.

 

ALL.

Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!

COR.

No more of this, it does offend my heart;

Pray now, no more.