Cominius

Our spoils he kick’d at,
And look’d upon things precious as they were
The common muck of the world. He covets less
Than misery itself would give, rewards
His deeds with doing them, and is content
To spend the time to end it.
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Coriolanus
This was my speech, and I will speak ’t again.
Menenius
Not now, not now.
First Senator
Not in this heat, sir, now.

In soothing them, we nourish ’gainst our senate
The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition,
Which we ourselves have plowed for, sowed, and scattered

Coriolanus
Now,
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Coriolanus
On fair ground
I could beat forty of them.
Menenius Agrippa
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.
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He is their god; he leads them like a thing
Made by some other deity than Nature,
That shapes man better; and they follow him
Against us brats with no less confidence
Than boys pursuing summer butterflies,
Or butchers killing flies.
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