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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 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.

4

3 Rom. A murrian 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

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.

Lart.

Thy exercise hath been too violent for

Worthy sir, thou bleed'st;

Sir, praise me not:

A second course of fight.

Mar.

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!

Thy friend no less

Mar.
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,

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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:-The Roman gods,
Lead their successes as we wish our own;

That both our powers, with smiling fronts encoun

tering,

Enter a Messenger.

May give you thankful sacrifice!-Thy news?
Mess. 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?

Mess. Above an hour, my lord.

Com. 'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums: How could'st thou in a mile confound an hour," And bring thy news so late?

Mess. Spies of the Volces Held me in chase, that I was forc'd to wheel Three or four miles about; else had I, sir, Half an hour since brought my report.

Com.

Enter MARCIUS..

Who's yonder,

That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods!
He has the stamp of Marcius; and I have
Before-time seen him thus.

Mar.

Come I too late?

Com. The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor, More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue From every meaner man's.

Mar.

Come I too late?

Com. Ay, if you come not in the blood of others But mantled in your own.

7

confound an hour,] Confound is here used not in its common acceptation, but in the sense of-to expend. Conterere tempus.

Mar.

O! let me clip you

In arms as sound, as when I woo'd; in heart
As merry, as when our nuptial day was done,
And tapers burn'd to bedward.

Com.

How is't with Titus Lartius?

Flower of warriors,

Mar. As with a man busied about decrees: Condemning some to death, and some to exile; Ransoming him, or pitying, threat'ning the other; Holding Corioli in the name of Rome,

Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash,
To let him slip at will.

Com.

Where is that slave,

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 shunn'd 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' the field? If not, why cease you till you are so?

Com.

Marcius,

We have at disadvantage fought, and did
Retire, to win our purpose.

Mar. How lies their battle? Know you on which

side

They have plac'd their men of trust?

Com.

As I guess, Marcius,

Their hands in the vaward are the Antiates,
Of their best trust: o'er them Aufidius,
Their very heart of hope.

* Ransoming him, or pitying,] i, e. remitting his ransom.

Mar.

I do beseech you,

By all the battles wherein we have fought,

By the blood we have shed together, by the vows
We have 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,
We prove 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 sin to doubt,) that love this painting
Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear
Lesser his person than an ill report;

If any think, brave death outweighs bad life,
And that his country's dearer than himself;
Let him, alone, or so many, so minded,
Wave thus, [Waving his Hand.] to express his dis-
position,

And follow Marcius.

[They all shout, and wave their Swords; take him up in their arms, and cast up their Caps. O me, alone! Make you a sword of me? If these shows be not outward, which of you But is four Volces? None of you but is Able to bear against the great Aufidius

A shield as hard as his. A certain number,
Though thanks to all, must I select: the rest
Shall bear the business in some other sight,
As cause will be obey'd. Please you to march;
And four shall quickly draw out my command,
Which men are best inclin'd.

9 And that you not delay the present;] Delay, for let slip.

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