[Exeunt.]
SCENE II. Rome. A room in Coriolanus’s house
Enter Coriolanus with Nobles.
CORIOLANUS.
Let them pull all about mine ears, present me
Death on the wheel or at wild horses’ heels,
Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock,
That the precipitation might down stretch
Below the beam of sight, yet will I still
Be thus to them.
FIRST PATRICIAN.
You do the nobler.
CORIOLANUS.
I muse my mother
Does not approve me further, who was wont
To call them woollen vassals, things created
To buy and sell with groats, to show bare heads
In congregations, to yawn, be still, and wonder
When one but of my ordinance stood up
To speak of peace or war.
Enter Volumnia.
I talk of you.
Why did you wish me milder? Would you have me
False to my nature? Rather say I play
The man I am.
VOLUMNIA.
O, sir, sir, sir,
I would have had you put your power well on
Before you had worn it out.
CORIOLANUS.
Let go.