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Vir. No, at a word, madam; indeed, I must


I wish you much mirth.

Val. Well, then, farewell.


SCENE IV. Before Corioli.

Enter, with drum and colours, MARCIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, Captains and Soldiers. To them a Messenger.

Mar. Yonder comes news.


Lart. My horse to yours, no.



A wager they have

'Tis done.


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.


I'll buy him of you.

Lart. No, I'll nor sell nor give him: lend you

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Mar. Then shall we hear their 'larum, and

they ours.

Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work, That we with smoking swords may march from


To help our fielded friends! Come, blow thy blast.

They sound a parley. Enter two Senators with others on the walls.

Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls?


122. at a word, in short.

9. 'larum, call 'to arms.'

First Sen. No, nor a man that fears you less

than he,

That's lesser than a little. [Drums afar off]

Hark! our drums

Are bringing forth our youth.


We'll break our

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. [Alarum afar off.]

Hark you, far off!

There is Aufidius; list, what work he makes

Amongst your cloven army.


O, they are at it! Lart. Their noise be our instruction. Ladders ho!

Enter the army of the Volsces.

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.

my fellows :

Come on,

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


The Romans are beat back to their trenches. Re-enter MARCIUS, cursing.

Mar. All the contagion of the south light on you,

14. less, i.e. more; through association with the cognate assertion: There is no man that fears you less than he.'

17. pound us up, enclose us.



30. the south; the south wind was regarded as peculiarly unwholesome.

You shames of Rome! you herd of Boils and


Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd

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

Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe

And make my wars on you: look to't: come on; 40


you I'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives, As they us to our trenches followed.

Another alarum. The Volsces fly, and MAR-
CIUS follows them to the gates.

So, now the gates are ope: now prove good

'Tis for the followers fortune widens them,

Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like.

First Sol. Fool-hardiness; not I.

Sec. Sol.

[Enters the gates.

Nor I.

[Marcius is shut in.

To the pot, I warrant him.

First Sol. See, they have shut him in.


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First 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.


O noble fellow !

Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword,

And, when it bows, stands up. Thou art left, Marcius: A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art,

Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier

Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible

Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks and

The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds,


Thou madest thine enemies shake, as if the world 60 Were feverous and did tremble.

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

First Sol.


Look, sir.

O, 'tis Marcius!

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

[They fight, and all enter the city.

SCENE V. Corioli. A street.

Enter certain Romans, with spoils.

First Rom. This will I carry to Rome.

Sec. Rom. And I this.

Third Rom. A murrain on 't! I took this for


[Alarum continues still afar off.


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At a crack'd drachma ! 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


And hark, what noise the general makes! To him! 10
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.


Worthy sir, thou bleed'st;

Thy exercise hath been too violent

For a second course of fight.


Sir, praise me not;

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,
Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms
Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman,
Prosperity be thy page!


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 o' the town,
Where they shall know our mind.

6. drachma, the chief Greek coin; a trace of Shakespeare's authority, Plutarch, who commonly reckons in terms of Greek money.

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7. of a doit, worth a farthing. The doit was a small Dutch coin.

19. physical, medicinal

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