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

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-
CIUS 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.

[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.
[Alarum continues.

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,
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! to
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
To help Cominius.

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.
Lart. Thou worthiest Marcius!

[Exit Marcius.

Go sound thy trumpet in the market-place;
Call thither all the officers o' the town,
Where they shall know our mind. Away!

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,
By interims and conveying gusts we have heard
The charges of our friends. Ye Roman gods!
Lead their successes as we wish our own,

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,
And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle:
I saw our party to their trenches driven,
And then I came away.

Though thou speak'st truth,
How long is 't

Com.
Methinks thou speak'st not well.

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
forced to wheel

16. briefly, a short time since.
17. confound, spend.

D

Three or four miles about, else had I, sir,
Half an hour since brought my report.

Com.
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 thus.

Mar.

[Within] 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.

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
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, 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