The Tragedy of Coriolanus

by William Shakespeare

MENENIUS.
Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee! Hoo! Martius coming home?

VALERIA, VIRGILIA.
Nay, ’tis true.

VOLUMNIA.
Look, here’s a letter from him. The state hath another, his wife another, and I think there’s one at home for you.

MENENIUS.
I will make my very house reel tonight. A letter for me?

VIRGILIA.
Yes, certain, there’s a letter for you; I saw it.

MENENIUS.
A letter for me? It gives me an estate of seven years’ health, in which time I will make a lip at the physician. The most sovereign prescription in Galen is but empiricutic and, to this preservative, of no better report than a horse drench. Is he not wounded? He was wont to come home wounded.

VIRGILIA.
O, no, no, no!

VOLUMNIA.
O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for’t.

MENENIUS.
So do I too, if it be not too much. Brings he victory in his pocket, the wounds become him.

VOLUMNIA.
On’s brows, Menenius. He comes the third time home with the oaken garland.