Vir. No at a word, madam; indeed, I must not.

:

I wish you much mirth.

Val. Well, then farewell.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Before Corioli.

Enter, with Drums 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.

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?

5

1 Sen. No, nor a man that fears you less than he,

battle.

fielded friends!] i. c. our friends who are in the field of

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
Amongst your cloven army.

Mar.

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.

Re-enter

Alarum, and exeunt Romans and Volces, fighting. The
Romans are beaten back to their trenches.
MARCIUS.

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
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. 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 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

6 Who, sensible,] Sensible is here, having sensation.

The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds,

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.

[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 942 At a crack'd 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.

"O, 'tis Marcius: "-MALONE.

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.

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 charg'd again. Whiles we have struck,
By interims, and conveying gusts, we have heard

The charges of our friends:-Ye 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?