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Make good this ostentation, and you shall
[Exeunt. SCENE VII. The Gates of CORIOLI. Titus LARTIUS, having set a Guard upon CORIOLI,
going with u Drum and Trumpet toward COMINIUS and Caius MARCIUS, enters with a Lieutenant, a Party of Soldiers, and a Scout.
Lart. So, let the ports be guarded : keep your duties, As I have set them down. If I do send, despatch Those centuries 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 us. Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct us.
[Exeunt. SCENE VIII. A Field of Battle between the Romun
and the Volscian Camps.
We hate alike;
Mar. Let the first budger die the other's slave,
If I fly, Marcius,
Within these three hours, Tullus,
Wert thou the Hector, That was the whip of your bragg’d progeny, Tbou shouldst not scape me here.-[They fight, and certain Volces come to the Aid
Officious, and not valiant-you have sham'd me
[Exeunt fighting, driven in by Marcius.
SCENE IX. The Roman Camp. Alarum. A Retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter at
one side, COMINIUS and ROMANS; at the other side, MARCIUS, with his Arm in a Scarf, and other RomanS.
Com. If I should tell thee o'er tbis thy day's work, Thoul't not believe thy deeds : but I'll report it, Where senators shall iningle tears with smiles; Where great patricians shall attend, and shrug, I'the end, admire; where ladies shall be frighted, And, gladly quak’d, hear more; where the dull tribunes, That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours, Shall say, against their hearts-We thank the gods, Our Rome hath such a soldier ! Yet cam’st thou to a morsel of this feast, Having fully dined before. Enter Titus LARTIUS, with his Power, from the
Pray now, no more: my mother,
You shall not be
(In sign of what you are, not to reward
· Mur. I have some wounds upon me, and they smart To hear themselves remember'd. Com.
Should they not, Well might they fester '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 this field achiev'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 !
cast up their Caps and Lances : Cominius and
Lartius stand bare. Mar. May these same instruments, which you profane, Never' sound more! When drums and truinpets shall I'the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be Made all of false-fac'd soothing: When steel grows Soft as the parasite's silk, let him be made An overture for the wars! No more, I say; For that I have not wash'd my nose that bled, Or foild some debile wretch,—which, without note, Here's many else have done;-you shout me forth In acclamations hyperbolical;. As if I lov'd my little should be dieted In praises sauc'd with lies. Com,
Too modest are you'; More cruel to your good report, than grateful To us that give you truly : by your palience, If 'gainst yourself 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 steed, known to the camp, I give him,
[Flourish. Trumpets sound, and Drums. All. Caius Marcius Coriolanus!
Cor. I will go wash ;
So, to our tent:
I shall, my lord.
I that now
Take it: 'tis yours.-What is't?
0, well begg'd! Were he the butcher of my son, he should Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus.
Lart. Marcius, his name?
By Jupiter, forgot :-
Go we to our tent: The blood upon your visage dries : 'tis time It should be look'd to: come.
SCENE X. The Camp of the VolcEs. A Flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS,
bloody, with two or three Soldiers. Auf. The town is la’en! 1 Sol. 'Twill be deliver'd back on good condition. Auf. Condition?I would, I were a Roman; for I cannot, Being a Volce, be that I am.-Condition! What good condition can a treaty find I'the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius, I have fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me; And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter As often as we eat.-By the elements, If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, He is mine, or I am his : Mine emulation, Hath not that honour in't, it had; for where I thought to crush him in an equal force (True sword to sword), I'll potch at lim some way; Or wrath, or craft, may get him... 1 Sol.
He's the devil.
Will not you go?
I shall, sir. [Exeunt.