Men. The Consul Coriolanus.
Bru. He consul!
All. No, no, no, no, no.
Men. If, by the tribunes' leave, and yours, good people, 280
I may be heard, I would crave a word or two,
The which shall turn you to no further harm
Than so much loss of time.
Sic. Speak briefly then;
For we are peremptory to dispatch 284
This viperous traitor. To eject him hence
Were but one danger, and to keep him here
Our certain death; therefore it is decreed
He dies to-night.
Men. Now the good gods forbid 288
That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude
Towards her deserved children is enroll'd
In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam
Should now eat up her own! 292
Sic. He's a disease that must be cut away.
Men. O! he's a limb that has but a disease;
Mortal to cut it off; to cure it easy.
What has he done to Rome that's worthy death? 296
Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost,—
Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he hath
By many an ounce,—he dropp'd it for his country;
And what is left, to lose it by his country, 300
Were to us all, that do 't and suffer it,
A brand to th' end o' the world.
Sic. This is clean kam.
Bru. Merely awry: when he did love his country
282 turn you to: occasion you
284 peremptory: resolved
291 dam: mother (of beasts)
295 Mortal: producing death
301 suffer: permit
302 brand: mark of infamy
clean kam: absolutely perverse
303 Merely: completely
