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Alarum, and exeunt ROMANS and VOLCES, fighting. The ROMANS are beaten back to their Trenches. Reenter MARCIUS.
Mar. All the contagion of the south light on you,
Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese,
With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge home,
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 seconds: '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. Fool-hardiness! not I.
Slain, sir, doubtless.
Lart. What is become of Marcius?
O noble fellow!
Who, sensible, outdares his senseless sword,
And, when it bows, stands up! Thou art left, Marcius:
A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art,
Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier
Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks, and
Re-enter MARCIUS, bleeding, assaulted by the Enemy.
1 Sol. Lart.
Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike.
[They fight, and all enter the City.
Within the Town. A Street.
Enter certain ROMANS, with Spoils.
1 Rom. This I will carry to Rome.
2 Rom. 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.
Worthy sir, thou bleed'st;
Thy exercise hath been too violent for
A second course of fight.
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
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.
Go, sound thy trumpet in the market place;
SCENE VI. Near the Camp of COMINIUS.
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 encountering,
May give you thankful sacrifice!-Thy news?
Though thou speak'st truth, Methinks, thou speak'st not well. How long is't since? Mess. Ábove an hour, my lord.
Com. "Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums: How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour,
And bring thy news so late?
That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods!
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.
Come I too late?
Com. Ay, if you come not in the blood of others,
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;
Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash,
To let him slip at will.
Where is that slave,
But how prevail'd you?
We have at disadvantage fought, and did
Mar. How lies their battle? Know you on which
As I guess, Marcius,
Their bands in the vaward are the Antiates,
I do beseech you,
By the blood we have shed together, by the vows
Filling the air with swords advanc'd, and darts,
Though I could wish
Those are they
If any think, brave death outweighs bad life,
Wave thus, [Waving his Hand] to express his disposi-
[tion, [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?
March on, my fellows: