MENENIUS
Hear me speak:
As I do know the consul's worthiness,
So can I name his faults,–
SICINIUS
Consul! what consul?
MENENIUS
The consul Coriolanus.
BRUTUS
He consul!
Citizens
No, no, no, no, no.
MENENIUS
If, by the tribunes' leave, and yours, good people,
I may be heard, I would crave a word or two;
The which shall turn you to no further harm
Than so much loss of time.
SICINIUS
Speak briefly then;
For we are peremptory to dispatch
This viperous traitor: to eject him hence
Were but one danger, and to keep him here
Our certain death: therefore it is decreed
He dies to-night.
MENENIUS
Now the good gods forbid
That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude
Towards her deserved children is enroll'd
In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam
Should now eat up her own!
SICINIUS
He's a disease that must be cut away.
MENENIUS
O, he's a limb that has but a disease;
Mortal, to cut it off; to cure it, easy.
What has he done to Rome that's worthy death?
Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost–
Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he hath,
By many an ounce–he dropp'd it for his country;
And what is left, to lose it by his country,
Were to us all, that do't and suffer it,
A brand to the end o' the world.
SICINIUS
This is clean kam.
BRUTUS
Merely awry: when he did love his country,
It honour'd him.
MENENIUS
The service of the foot
Being once gangrened, is not then respected
For what before it was.