Quel extraordinaire personnage

You common cry of curs, whose breath I hate
As reek o'th'rotten fens, whose loves I prize
As the dead carcasses of unburied men,
That do corrupt my air : I banish you !
And here remain with your uncertainty.
Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts ;
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,
Fan you into despair ! Have the power still
To banish your defenders, till at length
Your ignorance, which finds not till it feels,
Making but reservation of yourselves,
Still your own foes, deliver you
As most abated captives to some nation
That won you without blows ! Despising
For the city, thus I turn my back.
There is a world elsewhere.
                                                           - Coriolanus, III.3