Three or four miles about; elfe had I, Sir, Enter Martius. Com. Who's yonder, That does appear as he were flea'd? O Gods, Mar. Come I too late? Com. The thepherd knows not thunder from a tabor, More than I know the found of Martius' 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. Mar. Oh! let me clip ye In arms as found as when I woo'd; in heart As merry as when our nuptial day was done, And tapers burnt to bedward. Com. Flower of warriors, How is't with Titus Lartius ? Mar. As with a man bufied about decrees; Even like a fawning grey-hound in the leash, Com. Where is that flave Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? Mar. Let him alone, He did inform the truth: but for our gentlemen, Com. But how prevail'd you? Mar. Will the time ferve to tell? I do not think Com. Martius, we have at difadvantage fought, H 3 Mars Mar. How lyes their battle? know you on what fide They have plac'd their men of truft? Com. As I guess, Martius, Their bands i' th' vaward are the Antiates By all the battels wherein we have fought, Com. Though I could wish You were conducted to a gentle bath, Mar. Thofe are they That most are willing; if any fuch be here If any think brave death out-weighs bad life, And follow Martius. [They all fhout and wave their fwords, take him up in their arms, and caft up their caps. Oh! me alone, make you a fword of me : Which men are beft inclin'd. SCENE X. Corioli. [Exeunt. Titus Lartius having fent a guard upon Corioli, going with drum and trumpet toward Cominius and Caius Martius; Enter with a Lieutenant other Soldiers and a Scout. Lar. So, let the ports be guarded; keep your duties For a fhort holding; if we lofe the field, We cannot keep the town. Lieu. Fear not our care, Sir. Ler. Hence, and fhut your gates upon's: Our guider, come, to th' Roman camp conduct us. [Exeunt. SCENE Alarum as in battel. XI. The Roman Camp. Enter Martius and Aufidius, at Several doors. Mar. I'll fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee Worfe than a promife-breaker. Auf. We hate alike: Not Africk owns a ferpent I abhor More than thy fame, and envy; fix thy foot. Auf. If I fly, Martius, hollow me like a hare. And made what work I pleas'd: 'tis not my blood, Auf. Wert thou the Hector, That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny, Thou should'ft not 'fcape me here. [Here they fight, and certain Volfcians come to the aid of Aufidius. Martius fights 'till they be driven in breathless. Officious and not valiant! you have sham'd me In your condemned feconding. [Exeunt Mar. and Auf, fighting. Flourish. Flourish. Alarum. A retreat is founded. Enter at one door Cominius with the Romans at another door Martius, with his arm in a scarf. Com. If I fhould tell thee o'er this thy day's work, Thou'lt not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it, Where Senators shall mingle tears with smiles ; Where great Patricians fhall attend, and fhrug; I'th' end admire; where Ladies fhall be frighted, And, gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dull Tribunes, That with the fufty Plebeians, hate thine honours, Shall fay against their hearts, We thank the Gods Our Rome bath fuch a foldier. Yet cam'ft thou to a morfel of this feaft, Having fully din'd before. Enter Titus Lartius with his power from the purfuit. Lar. O General, Here is the fteed, we the caparison: Hadft thou beheld Mar. Pray now, no more: my mother, When she does praise me, grieves me: I have done Com. You fhall not be The grave of your deferving, Rome must know Com. Should they not, Well might they fefter 'gainst ingratitude, And tent themselves with death: Of all the horses, The The treasure in the field atchiev'd, and city, At your own choice. Mar. I thank you, General: But cannot make my heart confent to take [Along flourish. They all cry, Martius! Martius! caft up As if I lov'd my little should be dieted Com. Too modeft are you: More cruel to your good report, than grateful With all th' applaufe and clamour of the host, Caius Martius Coriolanus. Bear th' addition nobly ever! Flourish. Trumpets found, and drums. Omnes. Caius Martius Coriolanus! Mar. I will go wash : And when my face is fair, you fhall perceive Whether |