[Coriolanus rises, and offers to go away.]
Nay, keep your place.
FIRST SENATOR.
Sit, Coriolanus. Never shame to hear
What you have nobly done.
CORIOLANUS.
Your Honours, pardon.
I had rather have my wounds to heal again
Than hear say how I got them.
BRUTUS.
Sir, I hope
My words disbenched you not?
CORIOLANUS.
No, sir. Yet oft,
When blows have made me stay, I fled from words.
You soothed not, therefore hurt not; but your people,
I love them as they weigh.
MENENIUS.
Pray now, sit down.
CORIOLANUS.
I had rather have one scratch my head i’ th’ sun
When the alarum were struck than idly sit
To hear my nothings monstered.
[Exit.]
MENENIUS.
Masters of the people,
Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter—
That’s thousand to one good one—when you now see
He had rather venture all his limbs for honour
Than one on’s ears to hear it?—Proceed, Cominius.