CORIOLANUS.
Let me but stand. I will not hurt your hearth.
THIRD SERVINGMAN.
What are you?
CORIOLANUS.
A gentleman.
THIRD SERVINGMAN.
A marv’llous poor one.
CORIOLANUS.
True, so I am.
THIRD SERVINGMAN.
Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other station. Here’s no place for you. Pray you, avoid. Come.
CORIOLANUS.
Follow your function, go, and batten on cold bits.
[Pushes him away from him.]
THIRD SERVINGMAN.
What, you will not?—Prithee, tell my master what a strange guest he has here.
SECOND SERVINGMAN.
And I shall.