Coriolanus

Rome asks one thing of the soldier who saved it: put on a plain gown, stand in the marketplace, show the people your scars, and ask for their votes. His mother has already counted them for him, twenty-seven, every gash an enemy's grave. He would rather take Corioli twice over, where he went through the gates alone and came back so drenched in blood his own general took him for a flayed man, than ask one citizen for anything. Shakespeare's last Roman play breeds a man for nothing but war, at the hands of a mother who wanted nothing else from him, then drops him into a republic that has just given its poor a voice. Cast out, he answers with the coldest exit line in the plays, "There is a world elsewhere," and walks straight to his enemy Aufidius to lead an army back against the walls he defended. Whatever finally stands between Rome and the fire will not be a soldier.