SCENE IV. Before Corioli.

Enter, with drum and colors, 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.

Lart.

'Tis done.

Agreed.

Mar. Say, has our general met the enemy?
Mess. They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet.
Lart. So, the good horse is mine.

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 lie these armies?

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?

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 pinned with rushes; They'll open of themselves. Hark you, far off;

1 i. e. our friends who are in the field.

[Other alarums.

2 The Poet means-No, nor a man that fears you more than he; but he often entangles himself in the use of less and more.

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,
Which makes me sweat with wrath.-Come on, my
fellows;

He that retires, I'll take him for a Volce,
And he shall feel mine edge.

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—

plagues

-Boils and

Plaster you o'er; that you may be abhorred
Further than seen, and one infect another
Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese,
That bear the shapes of men, how have you run
From slaves that apes would beat? Pluto and hell!
All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale

With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge 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 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.

All.

Slain, sir, doubtless. 1 Sol. Following the fliers at the very heels, With them he enters; who, upon the sudden, Clapped-to their gates; he is himself alone, To answer all the city.

Lart.

O noble fellow !

Who, sensible,1 outdares his senseless sword,

And, when it bows, stands up! Thou art left, Mar

cius;

A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art,

Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier
Even to Cato's wish,2 not fierce and terrible
Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks, and
The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds,

1 The old copy reads :

"Who sensibly outdares."

Sensible is here having sensation. Though Coriolanus has the feeling of pain like other men, he is more hardy in daring exploits than his senseless sword; for after it is bent, he yet stands firm in the field.

2 The old copy has, erroneously," Calues wish;" the error would easily arise: Shakspeare wrote, according to the mode of his time, "Catoes wish," omitting to cross the t, and forming the o inaccurately. Cato was not born till after the death of Coriolanus; but the Poet was led into the anachronism by following Plutarch,

Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the world
Were feverous, and did tremble.

Re-enter MARCIUS, bleeding, assaulted by the enemy.

1 Sol.

Lart.

Look, sir.

"Tis Marcius:

Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike.1

[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 2

At a cracked drachm! Cushions, leaden spoons,
Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would
Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves,
Ere yet the fight be done, pack up.-Down with them!
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;
Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste
To help Cominius.

Lart.

Worthy sir, thou bleed'st;

Thy exercise hath been too violent for

A second course of fight.

1 "Make remain, is an old manner of speaking, which means no more than remain."

2 i. e. their time. Johnson adopted Pope's reading-honors.

Mar.

Sir, praise me not;

My work hath yet not warmed me. Fare you well. The blood I drop is rather physical

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 Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman, Prosperity be thy page!

Mar.

Thy friend no less

Than those she placeth highest! So, farewell.

Lart. Thou worthiest Marcius! [Exit MARCIUS. Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place;

Call thither all the officers of the town,

Where they shall know our mind. Away. [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 charged 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;
That both our powers, with smiling fronts encountering,

Enter a Messenger.

May give you thankful sacrifice!-Thy news?
Mes. The citizens of Corioli have issued,
And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle.
I saw our party to their trenches driven,
And then I came away.

Com.

Though thou speak'st truth, Methinks thou speak'st not well. How long is't since?