Imatges de pÓgina
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Come I too late?

Mar.

Com. Ay, if you come not in the blood of others,

But mantled in your own.

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.

Let him alone,

Mar. 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?

As I

guess, Marcius,

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

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 12; 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 fight,
As cause will be obey'd. Please you to march;
And four shall quickly draw out my command,
Which men are best inclin'd13.

Com

March on, my fellows:

Make good this ostentation, and you shall
Divide in all with us.

SCENE VII.

The Gates of Corioli.

[Exeunt.

TITUS LARTIUS, having set a guard upon Corioli, going with a drum and trumpet toward Cominius and Caius Marcius, enters with a lieutenant, a party of soldiers, and a scout.

Lart. So, let the ports be guarded: keep your

duties,

As I have set them down. If I do send, despatch

Those centuries to our aid; the rest will serve
For a short holding: If we lose the field,

We cannot keep the town.

Lieu.

Fear not our care, sir.

Lart. Hence, and shut your gates upon us.— Our guider, come; to the Roman camp

conduct us.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VIII.

A field of battle between the Roman and Volcian Camps.

Alarum.

Enter MARCIUS and AUFIDIUS.

Mar. I'll fight with none but thee; for I do hate

thee

Worse than a promise-breaker.

Auf.

We hate alike;'

Not Africk owns a serpent, I abhor

More than thy fame and envy: Fix thy foot.

Mar. Let the first budger die the other's slave, And the gods doom him after!

Auf.

Halloo me like a hare.

Mar.

If I fly, Marcius,

Within these three hours, Tullus,

Alone I fought in your Corioli walls,

And made what work I pleas'd: 'Tis not my blood,

Wherein thou seest me mask'd; for thy revenge,

Wrench up thy power to the highest.

Auf.

VOL. XI.

Wert thou the Hector,

D

That was the whip of your bragg'd" progeny,

Thou should'st not scape me here.

[They fight, and certain Volces come to the aid of Aufidius.

Officious, and not valiant-you have sham'd me

In

your condemned seconds.

[Exeunt fighting, driven in by Marcius.

SCENE IX.

The Roman Camp.

Alarum. A Retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter at one side, COMINIUS, and Romans; at the other side, MARCIUS, with his arm in a scarf, and other Romans.

Com. If I should 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 shall attend, and shrug, I' the end, admire; where ladies shall be frighted, And, gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dull Tri

bunes,

That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours, Shall say, against their hearts,-We thank the gods,

Our Rome hath such a soldier!

Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast,
Having fully din'd before.

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