MENENIUS.
One i’ th’ neck and two i’ th’ thigh—there’s nine that I know.
VOLUMNIA.
He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five wounds upon him.
MENENIUS.
Now it’s twenty-seven. Every gash was an enemy’s grave.
[A shout and flourish.]
Hark, the trumpets!
VOLUMNIA.
These are the ushers of Martius: before him he carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears.
Death, that dark spirit, in’s nervy arm doth lie,
Which, being advanced, declines, and then men die.
[A sennet.]
Enter Cominius the General and Titus Lartius, between them Coriolanus crowned with an oaken garland, with Captains and Soldiers and a Herald. Trumpets sound.
HERALD.
Know, Rome, that all alone Martius did fight
Within Corioles’ gates, where he hath won,
With fame, a name to Caius Martius; these
In honour follows “Coriolanus.”
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus.
[Sound flourish.]