CORIOLANUS.
Think upon me! Hang ’em!
I would they would forget me, like the virtues
Which our divines lose by ’em.
MENENIUS.
You’ll mar all.
I’ll leave you. Pray you speak to ’em, I pray you,
In wholesome manner.
[Exit Menenius.]
CORIOLANUS.
Bid them wash their faces
And keep their teeth clean.
Enter three of the Citizens.
So, here comes a brace.
You know the cause, sirs, of my standing here.
THIRD CITIZEN.
We do, sir. Tell us what hath brought you to’t.
CORIOLANUS.
Mine own desert.
SECOND CITIZEN.
Your own desert?
CORIOLANUS.
Ay, but not mine own desire.