[Kneels.]
VOLUMNIA.
Nay, my good soldier, up.
[He stands.]
My gentle Martius, worthy Caius, and
By deed-achieving honour newly named—
What is it? Coriolanus must I call thee?
But, O, thy wife—
CORIOLANUS.
My gracious silence, hail.
Wouldst thou have laughed had I come coffined home,
That weep’st to see me triumph? Ah, my dear,
Such eyes the widows in Corioles wear
And mothers that lack sons.
MENENIUS.
Now the gods crown thee!
CORIOLANUS.
And live you yet? [To Valeria] O my sweet lady, pardon.
VOLUMNIA.
I know not where to turn. O, welcome home!
And welcome, general.—And you’re welcome all.
MENENIUS.
A hundred thousand welcomes! I could weep,
And I could laugh; I am light and heavy. Welcome.
A curse begin at very root on’s heart
That is not glad to see thee! You are three
That Rome should dote on; yet, by the faith of men,
We have some old crab trees here at home that will not
Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors!
We call a nettle but a nettle, and
The faults of fools but folly.
COMINIUS.
Ever right.