Coriolanus, wearing the white toga of humility, attempts to win the citizens' votes for consul by showing his wounds and asking for their support. He moves through small groups of citizens, mechanically displaying his scars and requesting their voices. The tribunes watch and coach the crowd, while Coriolanus barely conceals his contempt. Though he secures the votes, the citizens immediately begin to doubt their choice, influenced by Sicinius and Brutus, who remind them of Coriolanus's past mockery and disdain.
This scene dramatizes the unbridgeable gap between Coriolanus's nature and the political performance required to lead. The tradition of displaying wounds and begging votes is presented as hollow theater, yet Coriolanus's failure to perform it convincingly—his visible disgust, his cursory flattery—reveals his absolute incapacity for the role. He moves through the marketplace like an actor who has memorized his lines but despises the play itself. The citizens sense this contempt beneath the ritual gestures, which creates a tragic irony: he wins their votes through minimal effort while making clear how little he values their approval. His mother pushed him toward this moment, but his nature rebels against it, setting the stage for his later explosion.
The tribunes' manipulation of public opinion in this scene is masterfully drawn. They exploit the gap between what citizens feel (gratitude for Coriolanus's service) and what they're told to feel (anger at his arrogance). By reminding the people of past insults and encouraging them to revoke their support, Sicinius and Brutus demonstrate how malleable democratic judgment can be when guided by skilled rhetoricians. The citizens reverse their position almost immediately, moving from 'he deserves the office' to 'he mocked us.' This scene establishes that Rome's political system—supposedly ruled by the people's voices—is actually controlled by those who can shape what those voices say. Coriolanus's refusal to master this skill proves fatal, but so does his failure to recognize its power.
I cannot bring / My tongue to such a pace
I can't get my tongue to move that slowly
Caius Marcius Coriolanus · Act 2, Scene 3
Coriolanus is trying and failing to flatter the people in the marketplace, the central test the play demands of him. The line endures because it captures his absolute refusal to perform—not from virtue but from an inability to speak anything but his truth. His unwillingness to bend his tongue becomes the hinge on which his entire fate turns.
He has done nobly, and cannot go without any honest man’s voice.
He’s acted nobly, and no honest person can deny his worth.
Sixth Citizen · Act 2, Scene 3
A citizen declares that Coriolanus has earned the support of every honest person through his deeds, and no one can deny his worth. The line resonates because it asserts that honor creates obligation—past service calls for present gratitude. It represents the voice of the people at their most reasonable, acknowledging genuine merit and attempting to honor it.
We may, sir, if we will.
We can, sir, if we want to.
Second Citizen · Act 2, Scene 3
A citizen asserts that the people have the power to vote as they choose, refusing to be told what their duty requires. The line resonates because it claims popular sovereignty in a moment when they are being pressured by their tribunes—the people know they have power, even if they do not always know how to use it wisely. It captures both the potential and the danger of rule by the many.
Original Shakespeare alongside modern English. Synced read-along narration in the app.
