Imatges de pàgina
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Val. Indeed la, 'tis a noble child.

Vir. A crack, Madam.

Val. Come, lay afide your ftitchery; I must have you play the idle hufwife with me this afternoon.

Vir. No, good Madam, I will not out of doors.
Val. Not out of doors!

Vol. She fhall, she shall

Vir. Indeed no, by your patience; I'll not over the threshold, 'till my Lord return from the wars.

Val. Fie, you confine your felf unreasonably: Come, you must go vifit the good Lady that lyes in.

Vir. I will with her speedy ftrength, and vifit her with my prayers, but I cannot go thither.

Vol. Why, I pray you?

Vir. 'Tis not to fave labour, nor that I want love.

Val. You would be another Penelope; yet they fay, all the yarn fhe fpun in Ulyffes's abfence, did but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come, I would your cambrick were senfible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity. Come, you fhall go with us.

Vir. No, good Madam, pardon me, indeed I will not forth.

Val. In truth la, go with me, and I'll tell you excellent news of your husband,

Vir. Oh, good Madam, there can be none yet.

Val. Verily I do not jeft with you; there came news from him last night.

Vir. Indeed, Madam

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Val. In earneft it's true, I heard a fenator fpeak it. Thus it is the Volfcians have an army forth, againft whom Cominius the General is gone, with one part of our Roman power. Your Lord and Titus Lartius are fet down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief wars. This is true, on my honour;

and fo, I pray, go with us. Vir. Give me excufe, good Madam, I will obey you in every thing hereafter.

Vol. Let her alone, Lady; as fhe is now, fhe will but disease our better mirth.

Val. In troth, I think he would: fare you well then.

Come,

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Come, good fweet Lady. Pr'ythee, Virgilia, turn thy folemnnefs out o' door, and go along with us.

Vir. No: at a word, Madam; indeed I muft not. I wish you much mirth.

Val. Well, then farewel.

SCENE VII. The Walls of Corioli.

[Exeunt.

Enter Martius, Titus Lartius, with Captains and Soldiers:
To them a Messenger.

Mar. Yonder comes news: a wager they have met.
Lar. My horfe to yours, no.

Mar. 'Tis done.

Lar. Agreed.

Mar. Say, has our General met the enemy?
Mef. They lye in view; but have not spoke as yet.
Lar. So, the good horfe is mine.

Mar. I'll buy him of you.

Lar. No, I'll not fell, nor give him: lend him you I will, for half an hundred years or fo :

Summon the town.

Mar. How far off lye these armies?
Mef. Within a mile and half.

Mar. Then fhall we hear their 'larum, and they ours.
Now, Mars, I pr'ythee make us quick in work;
That we with fmoaking swords may march from hence,
To help our fielded friends. Come, blow the blast.
They found a parley. Enter two Senators with others

on the walls.

Tullus Aufidius is he within your wall?

1 Sen. No, nor a man that fears you lefs than he, That's leffer than a little hark, our drums [Drum afar off. Are bringing forth our youth: we'll break our walls Rather than they fhall pound us up; our gates,

Which yet seem fhut, we have but

pinn'd with rushes,

They'll open of themfelves. Hark you,

far off

[Alarum far off.

There is Aufidius. Lift, what work he makes
Amongst your cloven army.

Mar. Oh, they are at it.

Lar. Their noise be our inftruction! Ladders, ho!

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Enter

Enter the Volfcians.

Mar. They fear us not, but iffue forth their city.
Now put your fhields before your hearts, and fight
With hearts more proof than fhields. Advance, brave Titus,
They do difdain us much beyond our thoughts,

Which makes me fweat with wrath. Come on, my fellows :
He that retires, I'll take him for a Volfcian,
And he fhall feel mine edge.

[Alarum; the Romans are beat back to their trenches.
SCENE VIII. Re-enter Martius.

Mar. All the contagion of the fouth light on you,
You fhames of Rome, you herds, you! boils and plagues
Plaifter you o'er that you may be abhorr'd
Farther than feen, and one infect another
Against the wind a mile : you fouls of geefe,
That bear the fhapes of men, how have you run
From flaves, 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, and Martius follows them to the gates. So, now the gates are ope: now prove good feconds; "Tis for the followers fortune widens them ;

Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like.

He enters the gates, and is fout in.

I Sol. Fool-hardiness, not I.

2 Sol. Nor I.

I Sol. See, they have shut him in.
All. To th' pot, I warrant him.

Enter Titus Lartius.

Lar. What is become of Martius ?
All. Siain, Sir, doubtlefs.

[Alarum continues.

1 Sol. Following the fliers at the very heels,

With them he enters; who

upon

the fudden

Clapt to their gates: he is himself alone,

To answer all the city.

Lar. Oh noble fellow!

Who

Who fenfible out-does his fenfeless sword,

And when it bows, ftands up: thou art left, Martius -
A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art,

Were not fo rich a jewel. Thou waft a foldier
Even to Cato's wish*, not fierce and terrible
Only in ftroaks, but with thy grim looks, and
The thunder-like percuffions of thy founds,

Thou mad't thine enemies fhake, as if the world
Were feaverous, and did tremble.

Enter Martius bleeding, affaulted by the Enemy.

1 Sol Look, Sir.

Lar. O, 'tis Martius.

Let's fetch him off, or make remain † alike.

[They fight, and all enter the City.

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 filver.

[Alarum continues ftill afar off.

Enter Martius and Titus Lartius, with a Trumpet.

Mar. See here these movers, that do prize their honours At a crack'd drachm, cufhions, leaden spoons,

Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would

Bury with thofe that wore them, these base flaves,
Ere yet the fight be done, pack up; down with them;
And hark, what noife the General makes! to him
There is the man of my foul's hate, Aufidius,
Piercing our Romans: then, valiant Titus, take
Convenient numbers to make good the city,

Whilft I, with those that have the spirit, will hafté
To help Cominius.

Lar. Worthy Sir, thou bleed'ft;
Thy exercise hath been too violent
For a fecond course of fight.

Plutarch in the life of Coriolanus relates this as the opinion of Cato the elder, that a great foldier fhould carry terror in his looks and tone of voice and the Poet here by following the Hiftorian inadvertently is fallen into a great chronological impropriety.

+ Mike remain is an old way of speaking which fignifies but the fame as remain.

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Mar. Sir, praise me not:

My work hath yet not warm'd me. Fare you well:
The blood I drop is rather phyfical

Than dangerous. T' Aufidius thus I will
Appear, and fight.

Lar. Now the fair Goddess Fortune

Fall deep in love with thee, and her great charms
Mifguide thy oppofers fwords! bold gentleman!
Profperity be thy page!

Mar. Thy friend no less,

Than to those she placeth higheft! so farewel.
Lar. Thou worthieft Martius,

Go found thy trumpet in the market-place, [To the Trumpet.
Call thither all the officers o' th' town,

Where they shall know our mind. Away!

SCENE IX. The Roman Camp.

Enter Cominius retreating, with Soldiers.

[Exeunt.

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 fhall be charged again.

By interims and conveying

Whiles we have ftruck, gufts we have heard

The charges of our friends. Ye Roman Gods,

Lead their fucceffes, as we wish our own,

That both our powers, with fmiling fronts encountring,
May give you thankful facrifice! Thy news?

Enter a Mejenger.

Mef. The citizens of Corioli have iffued, And given to Lartius and to Martius battel.

I faw our party to their trenches driven,

And then I came away.

Com. Tho' thou speak't truth,

Methinks thou speak'ft not well. How long is't fince ? Mef. Above an hour, my Lord.

Com. 'Tis not a mile : briefly we heard their drums. How could't thou in a mile confound an hour,

And bring the news fo late?

Mef. Spies of the Volfcians

Held me in chafe, that I was forc'd to wheel

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