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 With flight and agued fear! Mend and charge Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe If And make my wars on you: look to 't: come on; 40 you 'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives, As they us to our trenches followed. Another alarum. The Volsces fly, and MAR- So, now the gates are ope: now prove good 'Tis for the followers fortune widens them, Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like. [Enters the gates. First Sol. Fool-hardiness; not I. Sec. Sol. First Sol. See, they have shut him in. All. Nor I. [Marcius is shut in. To the pot, I warrant him. Re-enter TITUS LARTIUS. First 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. O noble fellow ! Who sensibly 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 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, 50 Thou madest thine enemies shake, as if the world 60 Were feverous and did tremble. Re-enter MARCIUS, bleeding, assaulted by the enemy. First Sol. Lart. Look, sir. O, 'tis Marcius! Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike. [They fight, and all enter the city. SCENE V. Corioli. A street. Enter certain Romans, with spoils. First Rom. This will I carry to Rome. Sec. Rom. And I this. Third 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 53. sensibly, having feeling. 5. movers, loafers (with 62. make remain; 'make' is irony). redundant. At a crack'd drachma ! Cushions, leaden spoons, And hark, what noise the general makes! To him! to Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste Lart. Worthy sir, thou bleed'st; Thy exercise hath been too violent For a second course of fight. 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. [Exit Marcius. Go sound thy trumpet in the market-place; 6. drachma, the chief Greek coin; a trace of Shakespeare's authority, Plutarch, who commonly reckons in terms of Greek money. [Exeunt. 20 7. of a doit, worth a farthing. The doit was a small Dutch coin. 19. physical, medicinal. SCENE VI. Near the camp of Cominius. Enter COMINIUS, as it were in retire, with soldiers. 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 charged again. Whiles we have struck, That both our powers, with smiling fronts encountering, May give you thankful sacrifice. Enter a Messenger. Thy news? ΙΟ Mess. The citizens of Corioli have issued, Though thou speak'st truth, Com. since? Mess. Above 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? Spies of the Volsces 16. briefly, a short time since. D Three or four miles about, else had I, sir, Com. Mar. [Within] Come I too late? Com. The shepherd knows not thunder from More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue 20 Mar. Enter MARCIUS. Come I too late? Com. Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, But mantled in your own. Mar. O, let me clip ye 30 In arms as sound as when I woo'd; in heart 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, threatening 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? 40 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 |