The gods forbid! I prithee, noble friend, home to thy house; Leave us to cure this cause. MENENIUS. For 'tis a sore upon us You cannot tent yourself; be gone, beseech you. COMINIUS. Come, sir, along with us. CORIOLANUS. I would they were barbarians, as they are, Though in Rome litter'd; not Romans, as they are not, Though calved i' th' porch o' th' Capitol. MENENIUS. Be gone. Put not your worthy rage into your tongue; One time will owe another. CORIOLANUS. On fair ground I could beat forty of them. MENENIUS. I could myself Take up a brace o' th' best of them; yea, the two tribunes. COMINIUS. But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic, And manhood is call'd foolery when it stands Against a falling fabric. Will you hence, Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend Like interrupted waters, and o'erbear What they are us'd to bear. MENENIUS. Pray you be gone. I'll try whether my old wit be in request With those that have but little; this must be patch'd With cloth of any colour. COMINIUS. Nay, come away. Exeunt CORIOLANUS and COMINIUS, with others PATRICIANS. This man has marr'd his fortune. MENENIUS. His nature is too noble for the world: He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Or Jove for's power to thunder. His heart's his mouth; What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent; And, being angry, does forget that ever He heard the name of death. [A noise within] Here's goodly work! PATRICIANS. I would they were a-bed. MENENIUS. I would they were in Tiber. What the vengeance, could he not speak 'em fair? Re-enter BRUTUS and SICINIUS, the rabble again