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