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And tapers burnt to bedward.
Com. Flower of Warriors,
How is't with Titus Lartius ?.
Mar. As with a man bufied about Decrees ;
Condemning some to death, and some to exile,
Ransoming him, or pitying, threatning th' other ;
Holding Corioli in the name of Rome,
Even like a fawning grey-hound in the leash,
To let him sip at will.
Com. Where is that flave,
Which told me, they had beat you to your trenches ?
Where is he? call him hither.
Mar. Let him alone,
He did inform the truth: but for our Gentlemen,
The common file, (a plague ! Tribunes for them !)
The mouse ne'er shund the cat, as they did budge
From rascals worse than they.
Com. But how prevail'd you?
Mar. Will the time serve to tell ? I do not think
Where is the enemy ? are you lords o'th' field ?
If not, why cease
'till Com. Marcius, we have at disadvantage fought, And did retire, to win our purpofe.
Mar. How lies their battle ? know you on what finde They have plac'd their men of trust?
Com. As I guess, Marcius,
Their bands i'ch' vaward are the Antiates
Of their best trust: o'er them Aufidius,
heart of hope.
Mar. I do beseech you,
By all the battles wherein we have fought,
By th'blood we’ave shed together, by the Vows
We’ave made to endure friends, that you directly
Set me against Aufidius, and his Antiates;
And that you not delay the present, but
Filling the air with swords advanc'd, and darts,
this very hour.
Com. Though I could wish,
You were conducted to a gentle bath,
And balms applied to you, yet dare I never
Deny your asking ; take your choice of those,
That best can aid your action.
Mar. Those are they,
That most are willing ; If any such be here,
(As it were fin to doubt) that love this Painting,
you see me smear'd ; if any fear
Less for his person than an ill report :
If any think, brave death out-weighs bad life,
And that his Country's dearer than himself,
Let him, alone, (or many, if so minded)
Wave thus, t'express his difpofition,
And follow Marcius.
They all shout, and wave their swords, take him
in their arms, and caft up their caps.
Oh! me alone, make you a sword of me :
If these shews be not outward, which of you
But is four Volscians ? none of you, but is
Able to bear against the great Aufidius
A Thield as hard as his. A certain number
(Tho' thanks to all) must I felect from all :
The rest shall bear the bufiness in some other fight,
As cause will be obey'd ; please you to march,
And four shall quickly draw out my Command,
Which men are best inclin'd.
Com. March on, my fellows :
Make good this oftentation, and you shall
Divide in all with us.
SCENE changes to CORIOL I.
Titus Lartius having set a guard upon Corioli, going
with drum and trumpet toward Cominius and Caius Marcius ; Enter with a lieutenant, other foldiers,
and a fcout. La O, let the Ports be guarded; keep your duties,
As I have set them down. If I do send, dispatch Those Centries to our aid; the rest will serve For a short holding; if we lose the field, We cannot keep the town. Lieu. Fear not our care, Sir.
Lart. Hence, and shut your gates upon's :
Our guider, come ! to th’ Roman camp conduct us.
[Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Roman Camp.
Alarum, as in battle. Enter Marcius and Aufidius, at
Mar. T'LL fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee
Worse than a promise-breaker.
Auf. We hate alike:
Not Africk owns a serpent I abhor
More than thy Fame, and envy ; fix thy foot.
Mar. Let the first budger die the other's slave,
And the Gods doom him after !
Auf. If I fly, Marcius,
Halloo me like a Hare.
Mar. Within these three hours, Tullus,
Alone I fought in your Corioli walls,
And made what work I pleas'd : 'tis not my blood,
Wherein thou see'st me mask'd; for thy revenge,
Wrench up thy power to th’highest.
Auf. Wert thou the Heétor,
That was the whip of your bragg'd Progeny,
Thou should'st not 'scape me here.
[Here they fight, and certain Volscians come to the
aid of Aufidius. Marcius fights, 'till they be driven
Officious, and not valiant ! you have sham'd me
Flourish. Alarum. A retreat is founded. Enter at ont
door, Cominius with the Romans; at another door,
Marcius, with his arm in a scarf.
Com. If I hould tell thee o'er this thy day's work,
Thou’lt not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it,
Where Senators shall mingle tears with smiles ;
Where great Patricians shall attend and shrug;
I'th' end, admire ; where ladies shall be frighted,
And, gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dull Tribunes,
That with the fufty Plebeians, hate thine honours,
Shall say, against their hearts, “ We thank the Gods,
“ Our Rome hath such a Soldier !””.
Yet cam'ft thou to a morsel of this feast,
Having fully din'd before.
Enter Titus Lartius with his Power, from the
Lart. O General,
Here is the steed, we the caparison :
Hadft thou beheld
Mar. Pray now, no more: my Mother,
Who has a charter to extol her blood,
When she does praise me, grieves me:
I have done as you have done ; that's, what I can ;
Induc'd, as you have been ; that's for my Country;
He, that has but effected his good will,
Hath overta'en mine act.
Gom. You shall not be
The Grave of your deserving: Rome must know
The value of her own : 'twere a concealment
Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement,
To hide your Doings ; and to filence that,
Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd,
Would seem but modeft : therefore, I beseech you,
In sign of what you are, not to reward
you have done, before our army hear me.
Mar. I have some wounds upon me, and they smart
To hear themselves remembred.
Com. Should they not,
Well might they fefter 'gainst ingratitude,
And tent themselves with death: Of all the horses,
Whereof we have ta’en good, and good store, of all
The treasure in the field atchiev'd, and city,
We render you the tenth, to be ta’en forth,
Before the common distribution, at
Your only choice.
Mar. I thank you, General :
But cannot make my heart consent to take
A bribe, to pay my sword : I do refuse it,
And stand upon my common part with those
That have beheld the doing.
[A long flourish. They all cry, Marcius, Marcius !
caj up their caps and launces: Cominius and
Lartius fand bare.
Mar. May these fame instruments, which you pro
Never sound more! when drums and trumpets shall
l'tho field prove flatterers, let camps, as cities,
Be made of false-fac'd soothing! When steel grows
Soft, as the parasite's filk, let Hymns be made
An overture for th' wars ! - No more, I fay;
For that I have not wash'd my Nose that bled,
Or foil'd some debile wretch, which, without note
many else have done; you shout me forth
In acclamations hyperbolical ;
As if I lov'd, my little should be dieted
In praises fauc'd with lies,
Com. Too modest are you :
More cruel to your good report, than grateful
To us, that give you truly : by your patience,
If 'gainst your self you be incens’d, we'll put you
(Like one that means his proper harm) in manacles ;
Then reason safely with you : therefore, be it known,
As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius
Wears this war's garland : in token of the which,
My noble fteed, known to the Camp, I give him,
With all his trim belonging ; and, from this time,
(8) May these same instruments, which you profane,
Never found more : &c. Several subsequent Verses in this truly fine Passage are difmounted, unnumerous and imperfect : And the Sense, 'ris plain, has been no less maim'd than the Numbers. To remedy This Part, I have had the Asistance of my ingenious Friend Mr. Warburton; and with the Benefit of his happy Conje&ures, which I have inserted in the Text, the Whole, I hope, is reford to that Purity, which Iwas quite lost in the Corruptions,