National Theatre Live: Coriolanus2014

Volscian Lieutenant:
How not your own desires?

Coriolanus:
No sir, 'twas never my desire yet to trouble the poor with begging.

Volscian Lieutenant:
You must think, if we give you any thing, we hope to gain by you.

Coriolanus:
Well then, I pray, your price of the consulship?

Emsemble:
The price is to ask it kindly.

Coriolanus:
[With resentful sarcasm] Kindly? Madam, I pray... let me have it!

[Snaps his fingers]

Coriolanus:
I have wounds to show you, which shall be yours in private.

[Looks to citizen]

Coriolanus:
Your good voice, sir. What say you? A match, sir. So there's in all two worthy voices begged.

[Citizen walks away]

Coriolanus:
Adieu.

[Another citizen approaches]

Coriolanus:
Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your voices that I may be consul, I have here the customary gown.

Ensemble:
You have deserved nobly of your country and you have not deserved nobly.

Coriolanus:
Your enigma?

Ensemble:
You have been a scourge to your enemies, a rod to her friends. You have not, indeed, loved the common people.

Coriolanus:
You should account me the more virtuous that I have not been common in my love. I will, sir, flatter my sworn brother, the people, to earn a dearer estimation of them. 'Tis a condition they account gentle. And since wisdom of their choice is rather to have my hat than my heart I will practice the insinuating nod and be off to them most counterfeitly. Indeed, I may be consul.

Valeria:
You have received many wounds for your country.

Coriolanus:
I will not not seal your knowledge with showing them.

[Plucks the voucher sarcastically]

Coriolanus:
I will make much of your voices, and so trouble you no further.

[Coriolanus and citizen laugh, he with contention]

Coriolanus:
Most sweet voices! Better it is to die, better to starve, than crave the hire which first we do deserve. Why in this wolfish toge should I stand here to beg of Hob and Dick that does appear, their needless vouches? Custom calls me to it. What custom wills, in all things should we do it. The dust on antique time would lie unswept and mountainous error be too highly heaped for truth to overpeer. Rather than feel it so, let the high office and the honour go to the one that would do thus.