William Shakespeare: The Tragedy of Coriolanus

ACT III. 1. SCENE I. Rome. A street (continued)

CORIOLANUS.
Stand fast;
We have as many friends as enemies.

MENENIUS.
Shall it be put to that?

FIRST SENATOR.
The gods forbid:
I pr'ythee, noble friend, home to thy house;
Leave us to cure this cause.

MENENIUS.
For 'tis a sore upon us
You cannot tent yourself; be gone, beseech you.

COMINIUS.
Come, sir, along with us.

CORIOLANUS.
I would they were barbarians,--as they are,
Though in Rome litter'd,--not Romans,--as they are not,
Though calv'd i' the porch o' the Capitol.

MENENIUS.
Be gone;
Put not your worthy rage into your tongue;
One time will owe another.

CORIOLANUS.
On fair ground
I could beat forty of them.

MENENIUS.
I could myself
Take up a brace o' the best of them; yea, the two tribunes.

COMINIUS.
But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic;
And manhood is call'd foolery when it stands
Against a falling fabric.--Will you hence,
Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend
Like interrupted waters, and o'erbear
What they are used to bear.

MENENIUS.
Pray you be gone:
I'll try whether my old wit be in request
With those that have but little: this must be patch'd
With cloth of any colour.

COMINIUS.
Nay, come away.

[Exeunt CORIOLANUS, COMINIUS, and others.]

FIRST PATRICIAN.
This man has marr'd his fortune.

MENENIUS.
His nature is too noble for the world:
He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,
Or Jove for's power to thunder. His heart's his mouth:
What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent;
And, being angry, does forget that ever
He heard the name of death.

[A noise within.]

Here's goodly work!