Vir. Indeed, no, by your patience: I will not over the threshold, till my lord return from the wars. Val. Fye, you confine yourself most unreasonably; Come, you must go visit the good lady that lies in. Vir. I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with my prayers; but I cannot go thither. Vol. Why, I pray you? Vir. 'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love. Val. You would be another Penelope : yet, they say, all the yarn she spun, in Ulysses' absence, did but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come; I would, your cambric were sensible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us. Vir. No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth. Val. In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you excellent news of your husband. Vir. O, good madam, there can be none yet. Val. Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from him last night. Vir. Indeed, madam. Val. In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it. Thus it is-The Volces have an army forth; against whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of our Roman power: your lord, and Titus Lartius, are set down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief wars. This is true, on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us. Vir. Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every thing hereafter. Vol. Let her alone, lady; as she is now, she will but disease our better mirth. Val. In troth, I think, she would :-Fare you well then.-Come, good sweet lady.-Pr'ythee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o'door, and go along with us. Vir. No at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish you much mirth. Val. Well, then farewell. SCENE IV. [Exeunt. Before Corioli. Enter, with drum and colours, MARCIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, Officers, and Soldiers. To them a Messenger. Mar. Yonder comes news :-A wager, they have met. Lart. My horse to yours, no. Mar. 'Tis done. Lart. Agreed. Mar. Say, has our general met the enemy? Mes. They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet. 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. Mar. How far off lies these armies? Mes. 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? 1 Sen. No, nor a man that fears you less than he, That's lesser than a little. Hark, our drums [Alarums afar of 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 of themselves. Hark open you, far off; [Other Alarums. There is Aufidius; list, what work he makes Amongst your cloven army. Mar. O, they are at it! 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, [lows; Which makes me sweat with wrath.-Come on, my fel- Alarum, and exeunt Romans and Volces, fighting. The Ro- Further than seen, and one infect another With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge home, Another Alarum. The Volces and Romans re-enter, and the fight is renewed. The Volces retire into Corioli, and MARCIUS follows them to the gates. So, now the gates are ope :-Now prove good seconds: '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. 1 Sol. Fool-hardiness; not I. 2 Sol. Nor I. 3 Sol. See, they Have shut him in. All. To the pot, I warrant him. Enter TITUS LARTIUS. Lart. What is become of Marcius? All. Slain, sir, doubtless. [Alarum continues. 1 Sol. Following the fliers at the very heels, Lart. O noble fellow! Who, sensible, outdares his senseless sword, And, when it bows, stands up! Thou art left, Marcius: Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier Re-enter MARCIus bleeding, assaulted by the enemy. 1 Sol. Look, sir. [1] Plutarch, in The Life of Coriolanus, relates this as his opinion of Cato the Elder, that a great soldier should carry terror in his looks and tone of voice; and the poet, hereby following the historian, is fallen into a great chronological Impropriety. THEOBALD. Lart. '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 will I 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 TITUS LARTIUS, with a trumpet. Mar. See here these movers, that do prize their hours Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves, -Down with them.-And bark, what noise the general makes!-To him;There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius, Piercing our Romans: Then, valiant Titus, take Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste Lart. Worthy sir, thou bleed'st; Thy exercise hath been too violent for A second course of fight. Mar. Sir, praise me not: My work hath yet not warm'd me: Fare you well. Than dangerous to me : To Aufidius thus I will appear, and fight. Lart. Now the fair goddess, Fortune, Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms Prosperity be thy page! Mar. Thy friend no less Than those she placeth highest! So, farewell. -Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place; [Exit MAR [Exeunt. [2] Make remain---is an old manner of speaking, which means no more than remain. HANMER. SCENE VI. Near the Camp of COMINIUS. Enter COMINIUS and Forces, retreating. [come off Com. Breathe you, my friends; well fought. We are We shall be charg'd again. Whiles we have struck, May give you thankful sacrifice !-Thy news? Com. Though thou speak'st truth, Methinks, thou speak'st not well. How long is't since ? Mes. Above an hour, my lord. Com. 'Tis not a mile : Briefly, we heard their drums: How could'st thou in a mile confound an hour, And bring thy news so late? Mes. Spies of the Volces Held me in chase, that I was forc'd to wheel Enter MARCIUS. Com. Who's yonder, That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods! Mar. Come I too late? Com. The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor, More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue From every meaner man's. Mar. Come I too late? Com. Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, But mantled in your own. Mar. Oh! let me clip you In arms as sound, as when I woo'd; in heart Com. Flower of warriors, |