Hark, the trumpets!
VOLUMNIA.
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 advanced, declines, and then men die.
[A sennet.]
Enter Cominius the General and Titus Lartius, between them Coriolanus crowned with an oaken garland, with Captains and Soldiers and a Herald. Trumpets sound.
HERALD.
Know, Rome, that all alone Martius did fight
Within Corioles’ gates, where he hath won,
With fame, a name to Caius Martius; these
In honour follows “Coriolanus.”
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus.
[Sound flourish.]
ALL.
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!
CORIOLANUS.
No more of this, it does offend my heart.
Pray now, no more.
COMINIUS.
Look, sir, your mother.
CORIOLANUS.
O,
You have, I know, petitioned all the gods
For my prosperity.