They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, Which makes me sweat with wrath. -Come, on my

fellows;

He that retires, I'll take him for a Volce,

And he shall feel mine edge.

Alarum, and exeunt Romans and Volces, fighting. The

Romans are beaten back to their trenches.

MARCIUS.

Re-enter

Mar. All the contagion of the south light on you, You shames of Rome! you herd of Boils and plagues Plaster you o'er; that you may be abhorr'd Further than seen, and one infect another Against the wind a mile? You souls of geese, That bear the shapes of men, how have you run From slaves 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. The Volces and Romans re-enter, and the fight is renewed. The Volces retire into Corioli, and MARCIUS follows them to the gates.

So, now the gates are ope:-Now prove good se

conds:

'Tis for the followers fortune widens them,

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

[He enters the gates, and is shut in.

1 Sol. Following the fliers at the very heels, With them he enters: who, upon the sudden, Clapp'd-to their gates; he is himself alone,

To answer all the city.

Lart

i

O noble fellow!

Who, sensible, outdares his senseless sword,

And, when it bows, stands up! Thou art left, Mar

cius:

A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art,

Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier
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 Kom. And I this.

3 Rom. A murrain 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 11

At a crack'd dram! 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

Thy exercise hath been too violent for

A second course of fight.

4

Mar.

Sir, praise me not:

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!

Mar.

Thy friend no less

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.

SCENE VI.

Near the Camp of Cominius.

[Exeunt.

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 encount'ring, Enter a Messenger.

May give you thankful sacrifice!-Thy news?
Mess. The citizens of Corioli have issued,

And given to Lartius and to Mareius 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 thús.

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.