[Exeunt.]
MENENIUS.
O sir, you are not right. Have you not known
The worthiest men have done’t?
CORIOLANUS.
What must I say?
“I pray, sir”—plague upon’t! I cannot bring
My tongue to such a pace. “Look, sir, my wounds!
I got them in my country’s service when
Some certain of your brethren roared and ran
From th’ noise of our own drums.”
MENENIUS.
O me, the gods!
You must not speak of that. You must desire them
To think upon you.
CORIOLANUS.
Think upon me! Hang ’em!
I would they would forget me, like the virtues
Which our divines lose by ’em.
MENENIUS.
You’ll mar all.
I’ll leave you. Pray you speak to ’em, I pray you,
In wholesome manner.
[Exit Menenius.]
CORIOLANUS.
Bid them wash their faces
And keep their teeth clean.
Enter three of the Citizens.
So, here comes a brace.
You know the cause, sirs, of my standing here.