Enter Marcius. Com. Who's yonder, That does appear as he were flea'd? O Gods! Before time feen him thus. Mar. Come I too late? Com. The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor, (8) More than I know the found of Marcius' tongue From every meaner man. 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 (9) In arms as found, as when I woo'd; in heart 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 leafh, (8) The fhepherd knows not thunder from a tabor, More than I know the found of Marcius' tongue From ev'ry meaner man.] This has the air of an imitation, whether Shakespeare really borrow'd it, or no, from the original: I mean, what Ulyffes fays in the Greek poet of being able to diftinguish Minerva's voice, tho' he did not fee her. Ως ευμαθές Σου, κἂν ἀποπλος ᾖ;, ὅμως Φώνημ' ἀκέω, καὶ ξυναρπάζω φρενὶ (9) Ob! let me clip ye In arms as found, as when I woo'd in heart ;] Sophoc, in Ajace. Dr. Thirlby advised the different regulation in the pointing of this paffage; which I have embraced, as I think it much improves the fenfe and fpirit, and conveys too the poet's thought, that Marcius was as found in limb, as when he went a wooing; and as merry in heart, as when going to bed to his bride. R 4 Mar. Com. Where is that flave, Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? Where is he? call him hither. Mar. Let him alone, He did inform the truth: but, for our gentlemen, The common file, (a plague! tribunes for them!) The moufe ne'er fhunn'd the cat, as they did budge From rafcals worse than they. Com. But how prevail'd you? Mar. Will the time ferve to tell? I do not thinkWhere is the enemy? are you Lords o' th' field? If not, why cease you 'till you are fo? Com. Marcius, we have at difadvantage fought, And did retire to win our purpose. Mar. How lies their battle? know you on what fide They have plac'd their men of trust ? Com. As I guefs, Marcius, Their bands i' th' vaward are the Antiates Mar. I do befeech you, By all the battles wherein we have fought, Set me against Aufidius, and his Antiates ; 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, Let Let him, alone, (or many, if fo minded) Wave thus, t'exprefs his difpofition, And follow Marcius. [They all fhout, and wave their fwords, take him up in Oh! me alone, make you a fword of me: A fhield as hard as his. A certain number, Com. March on, my fellows: you fhall SCENE changes to Corioli. [Exeunt Titus Lartius having fet a guard upon Corioli, going with drum and trumpet toward Cominius and Caius Marcius; Enter with a Lieutenant, other Soldiers, and a fcout. Lart. O, let the ports be guarded; keep your duties, As I have fet them down. If I do fend, difpatch Those centries to our aid; the reft will ferve For a fhort holding; if we lose the field, We cannot keep the town. Lieu. Fear not our care, Sir. Lart. Hence, and fhut your gates upon's: Our guider, come! to th' Roman camp conduct us. [Exeunt SCENE changes to the Roman Camp. Alarum, as in battle. Enter Marcius and Aufidius, at Several doors. Mar.'LL fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee Worfe than a promise-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, Marcius, Hollow me like a hare. Mar. 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 fee'ft me mask'd; for thy revenge, Wrench up thy power to th' highest. Auf. Wert thou the Hector, That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny, [Here they fight, and certain Volfcians come to the aid of Aufidius. Marcius fights, 'till they be driven in breathless. Officious, and not valiant!-you have fham'd me Flourish. Alarum. A retreat is founded. Enter at one door, Cominius with the Romans; at another door, Marcius, 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 fenators fhall mingle tears with fmiles; 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 hath fuch a foldier! Yet Yet cam'ft thou to a morfel of this feast, Having fully din'd before. Enter Titus Lartius with his Power, from the pursuit. Lart. O General, Here is the fteed, we the caparison : Hadft thou beheld Mar. Pray now, no more: my mother, I have done as you have done; that's, what I can; Hath overta'en mine act. Com. You fhall not be The grave of your deferving: Rome must know The value of her own: 'twere a concealment What you have done, before our army hear me. Com. Should they not, Well might they felter 'gainst ingratitude, And tent themselves with death: Of all the horfes, Your only choice. Mar. I thank you, General: But cannot make my heart confent to take [A long flourish. They all cry, Marcius! Marcius! caft up their caps and launces: Cominius and Lartius Stand bare. Mars |