Menen. And 'twas time for him too, Ile warrant him that: and he had stay'd by him, I would not haue been so fiddious'd, for all the Chests in Carioles, and the Gold that's in them. Is the Senate possest of this? Volum. Good Ladies let's goe. Yes, yes, yes: The Senate ha's Letters from the Generall, wherein hee giues my Sonne the whole Name of the Warre: he hath in this action out-done his former deeds doubly Valer. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him Menen. Wondrous: I, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing Virgil. The Gods graunt them true Volum. True? pow waw Mene. True? Ile be sworne they are true: where is hee wounded, God saue your good Worships? Martius is comming home: hee ha's more cause to be prowd: where is he wounded? Volum. Ith' Shoulder, and ith' left Arme: there will be large Cicatrices to shew the People, when hee shall stand for his place: he receiued in the repulse of Tarquin seuen hurts ith' Body Mene. One ith' Neck, and two ith' Thigh, there's nine that I know Volum. Hee had, before this last Expedition, twentie fiue Wounds vpon him Mene. Now it's twentie seuen; euery gash was an Enemies Graue. Hearke, the Trumpets. A showt, and flourish. Volum. These are the Vshers of Martius: Before him, hee carryes Noyse; And behinde him, hee leaues Teares: Death, that darke Spirit, in's neruie Arme doth lye, Which being aduanc'd, declines, and then men dye. A Sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter Cominius the Generall, and Titus Latius: betweene them Coriolanus, crown'd with an Oaken Garland, with Captaines and Souldiers, and a Herauld. Herauld. Know Rome, that all alone Martius did fight Within Corioles Gates: where he hath wonne, With Fame, a Name to Martius Caius: These in honor followes Martius Caius Coriolanus. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus. Sound. Flourish. All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus Coriol. No more of this, it does offend my heart: pray now no more Com. Looke, Sir, your Mother Coriol. Oh! you haue, I know, petition'd all the Gods for my prosperitie. Kneeles. Volum. Nay, my good Souldier, vp: My gentle Martius, worthy Caius, And by deed-atchieuing Honor newly nam'd, What is it (Coriolanus) must I call thee? But oh, thy Wife Corio. My gracious silence, hayle: Would'st thou haue laugh'd, had I come Coffin'd home, That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah my deare, Such eyes the Widowes in Carioles were, And Mothers that lacke Sonnes Mene. Now the Gods Crowne thee Com. And liue you yet? Oh my sweet Lady, pardon Volum. I know not where to turne. Oh welcome home: and welcome Generall, And y'are welcome all