Consequently, there is more weakness in his actions than generosity, I am not of their opinion, and I hope posterity will be with me. The passion that inspires love for the motherland among those with a grand spirit is not caused by the geographical location of our birth. The same sun illuminates the entire universe and we enjoy the same elements everywhere. If the sole reason for this passion was the place of birth, it would be truly weak. But what makes us love our country is that our fellow citizens are all our relatives or allies. The bond of blood or that of society ties us to them. The religion, laws, customs we share make our interests common. But the first sentiment nature gives to those who love their country is to love it mainly because their parents, siblings, and close relatives are there. Yes, I am quite certain that the most passionate Roman, upon returning to Rome after a long journey, will not look at the Capitol as quickly as the part of the city where his family or spouse resides.

Thus, do not be surprised that Coriolanus only yielded to my tears, for among the Romans to whom could he surrender? All those sent to him to parley had already offended him in the past. He saw in none of them the mark of a true Roman. They were all ungrateful to him, and he could not recognize himself in them. He saw the walls of Rome but not the friendships he once had. Fear spoke in everyone he met, and it was only through me that he understood that there was something still dear to him in Rome. Is it possible that so much devotion ended in so much disappointment? A man as brave as he ending his days in such sadness! Murdered by those who had chosen him as their leader! The place of his refuge became the place of his execution. Is it possible that my intentions, as pure and innocent as they were, led to such an outcome! Volumnia, the gods allowed all this to happen. But Coriolanus is dead, and he died for you, Volumnia, and for me. His end, however, has the merit of having caused tears to those who provoked it. After the final breath of their leader, the Volscians themselves honored him with a funeral. No sooner had they seen his blood than they regretted their crime. With the very same weapons they had used to take his life, they erected a trophy in his honor. They celebrated his burial as if it were a victory. His memory is dear amongst them. They adorned his tomb with numerous banners and all those famous offerings that mark the valor of illustrious dead.

As for Rome, which owes its freedom to Coriolanus, she learns of his disappearance without mourning! She doesn't even remember that without him she was lost and enslaved. All the Romans were ungrateful to him when he was alive, and they will still be after his death. They do not regard him as their liberator, but as their enemy. They remember more the chains he was preparing for them than those he took away. The fear they had once upon a time of seeing him enter Rome in triumph makes them rejoice at the knowledge that he is today in a coffin. I must admit that I am overcome by a great sorrow which prevents me.
                                                           83