So he did, my lord:
The army marvell'd at it, and, in the last,
When he had carried Rome and that we
For no less spoil than glory,
There was it:
For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him.
At a few drops of women's rheum, which
As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour
Of our great action: therefore shall he die,
And I'll renew
me in his fall. But, hark!
Drums and trumpets sound, with great shouts of the People
Your native town you enter'd like a post,
And had no welcomes home: but he returns,
Splitting the air with
And patient fools,
Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear
With giving him glory.
Therefore, at your vantage,
Ere he express himself, or move the people
With what he would say, let him
feel your sword,
Which we will second. When he lies along,
After your way his tale pronounced shall
His reasons with his body.
Say no more:
Here come the lords.
Enter the Lords of the city
All The Lords
You are most welcome home.
I have not deserved it.
But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused
What I have written to you?
And grieve to hear't.
What faults he made before the last, I think
Might have found easy fines: but there to
Where he was to begin and give away
The benefit of our levies, answering us
With our own charge,
making a treaty where
There was a yielding, this admits no excuse.
He approaches: you shall hear him.
Enter CORIOLANUS, marching with drum and colours; commoners being with him
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