Vir. No: at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish you much mirth. Val. Well, then farewell. SCENE IV. Before Corioli. [Exeunt. Enter, with drum and colours, Marcius, Titus Lartius, Officers and Soldiers. To them a Messenger. Mar. Yonder comes news:-A wager, they have Mar. Say, has our general met the enemy? Mar. I'll buy him of you. Lart. No, I'll nor sell, nor give him: lend you him, I will, For half a hundred years.-Summon the town. Mess. Within this mile and half. Mar. Then shall we hear their larum, and they ours. Now, Mars, I pr'ythee make us quick in work; That we with smoking swords may march from hence, To help our fielded* friends!—Come, blow thy blast. They sound a parley. Enter, on the walls, some Senators, and others. Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls? * In the field of battle. 1 Sen. No, nor a man that fears you less than he, That's lesser than a little. Hark, our drums [Alarums afar off. Are bringing forth our youth: We'll break our walls, Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates, Which yet seem shut, we have but pinn'd with rushes; They'll open of themselves. Hark you, far off; [Other alarums. O, they are at it! There is Aufidius; list, what work he makes Mar. cloven army. Lart. Their noise be our instruction.-Ladders, ho! The Volces enter, and pass over the stage. Mar. They fear us not, but issue forth their city. Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proof than shields.-Advance, brave Titus: They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, Which makes me sweat with wrath.-Come on, my fellows; He that retires, I'll take him for a Volce, Alarum, and exeunt Romans and Volces, fighting. The Romans are beaten back to their trenches. Re-enter Marcius. Mar. All the contagion of the south light on you, You shames of Rome! you herd of-Boils and plagues Plaster you o'er; that you may be abhorr'd Mend, and charge With flight and agued fear! home, Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe, And make my wars on you: look to't: Come on; If you'll stand, fast, we'll beat them to their wives, As they us to our trenches followed. Another alarum. The Volces and Romans reenter, and the fight is renewed. The Volces retire into Corioli, and Marciús follows them to the gates. So, now the gates are ope:-Now prove good se conds: 'Tis for the followers fortune widens them, Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like. [He enters the gates, and is shut in. All. Slain, sir, doubtless. 1 Sol. Following the fliers at the very heels, With them he enters: who, upon the sudden, Clapp'd to their gates; he is himself alone, To answer all the city. Lart. O noble fellow! Who, sensible, outdares his senseless sword, And, when it bowst, stands up! Thou art left, Marcius: A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art, Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier * Having sensation, feeling. + When it is bent. Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks, and Re-enter Marcius bleeding, assaulted by the enemy. 1 Sol. Lart. Look, sir. 'Tis Marcius: Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike. [They fight, and all enter the city. SCENE V. Within the town. A street. Enter certain Romans, with spoils. 1 Rom. This I will carry to Rome. 2 Rom. And I this. 3 Rom. A murrain on't! I took this for silver. [Alarum continues still afar off. Enter Marcius, and Titús Lartius, with a trumpet. Mar. See here these movers, that do prize their hours At a crack'd drachm*! Cushions, leaden spoons, And hark, what noise the general makes! -To him : There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius, Piercing our Romans: Then, valiant Titus, take Convenient numbers to make good the city; To help Cominius. Lart. Thy exercise hath been too violent for Worthy sir, thou bleed'st; Sir, praise me not: A second course of fight. Mar. My work hath yet not warm'd me: Fare you well. The blood I drop is rather physical Than dangerous to me: To Aufidius thus I will appear, and fight. Now the fair goddess, Fortune, Lart. Mar. [Exit Marcius. Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place; [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Near the camp of Cominius. Enter Cominius and forces, retreating. Com. Breathe you, my friends; well fought, we are come off Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, sirs, We shall be charg'd again. Whiles we have struck, By interims, and conveying gusts, we have heard The charges of our friends :-The Roman gods Lead their successes as we wish our own; |