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We render you the tenth; to be ta'en forth,
I thank you, general ;
[A long flourish. They all cry, Marcius!
and lances: Cominius and Lartius stand bare. Mar. May these same instruments, which you
else have done,--you shout me forth
Too modest are you;
[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?
But then Aufidius was within my view,
O, well begg'd!
Lart. Marcius, his name?
By Jupiter, forgot :-
Go we to our tent:
The Camp of the Volces. A flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS
bloody, with two or three soldiers. Auf. The town is ta’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 18, 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 would'st 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's the devil. Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle: My valour's
city; Learn, how 'tis held; and what they are, that must Be hostages for Rome.
Will not you go? Auf. I am attended at the cypress grove: I
pray you, (Tis south the city mills,) bring me word thither How the world goes; that to the pace
of it I may spur on my journey. 1 Sol.
I shall, sir. [Exeunt.
ACT II. SCENE I.
Rome. A publick Place.
Enter MENENIUS, SICINIUS, and BRUTUS. Men. The augurer tells me, we shall have news to-night.
Bru. Good, or bad ?
Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius.
Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.
Men. Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius.
Bru. He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear.
Men. He's a bear, indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two are old men; tell me one thing that I shall
Both Trib. Well, sir.
Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor, that you two have not in abundance?
Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stor'd with all.
Men. This is strange now: Do you two know how you are censured here in the city, I mean of us o' the right-hand file? Do you?
Both Trib. Why, how are we censured?