In spite of this, however,
knowing the generous nature of Tullus, and longing more than any
Volscian to requite the Romans for their treatment, he justified the
verses,
"'Tis hard to strive with rage, which aye,
Though life's the forfeit, gains its way."
He disguised himself as completely as he could, and, like Ulysses,
"Into the city of his foes he came."
XXIII. It was evening when he entered Antium, and although many met him,
no one recognised him. He went to Tullus's house, and entering, sat down
by the hearth in silence, with his head wrapped in his cloak. The
domestics, astonished at his behaviour, did not dare to disturb him, as
there was a certain dignity about his appearance and his silence, but
went and told Tullus, who was at supper, of this strange incident.
Tullus rose, went to him, and inquired who he was and what he wanted.
Then at length Marcius uncovered his face, and, after a short pause,
said, "If you do not recognise me, Tullus, or if you do not believe your
eyes, I must myself tell you who I am. I am Caius Marcius, who has
wrought you and the Volscians more mischief than any one else, and who,
lest I should deny this, have received the additional title of
Coriolanus. This I cannot lose: every thing else has been taken from me
by the envious spite of the people, and the treacherous remissness of
the upper classes. I am an exile, and I now sit as a suppliant on your
hearth, begging you, not for safety or protection, for should I have
come hither if I feared to die, but for vengeance against those who
drove me forth, which I am already beginning to receive by putting
myself in your hands.
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