There is Aufidius. Lift, what work he makes Amongst your cloven army. Mar. Oh, they are at it. Lar. Their noife be our inftruction! Ladders, ho! Enter the Volícians. Mar. They fear us not, but iffue forth their city. Now put your fhields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proof than fhields. Advance, brave Titus, They do difdain us much beyond our thoughts, Which makes me fweat with wrath. Come on, my fellows: He that retires, I'll take him for a Volfcian, And he fhall feel mine edge. [Alarum; the Romans are beat back to their trenches. SCENE Re-enter Martius. 3 VIII. Mar. All the contagion of the fouth light on you, You fhames of Rome, you herds, you! boils and plagues Plaifter you o'er! that you may be abhorr'd Farther than feen, and one infect another Against the wind a mile: you fouls of geefe With flight and agued fear! mend, and charge home, [Another alarum, and Martius follows them to the gates. So, now the gates are ope: now prove good feconds; 'Tis for the followers fortune widens them: Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like. [He enters the gates, and is fhut in. I Sol. 3 you herds; of boils Sol. Fool-hardiness, not I. 2 Sol. Nor I. 1 Sol. See, they have shut him in. [Alarum continues. All. To th' pot, I warrant him. Enter Titus Lartius. Lar. What is become of Martius? 1 Sol. Following the fliers at the very heels, Lar. Oh noble fellow ! Who 'fenfible out-does his fenfelefs fword, Were not fo rich a jewel. Thou waft a foldier Enter Martius bleeding, affaulted by the Enemy. 1 Sol. Look, Sir.. Lar. O, 'tis Martius. Let's fetch him off, or make remain balike. [They fight, and all enter the City: Enter certain Romans with Spoils. 1 Rom. This will I carry to Rome. G 2 2 Rom. (a) Plutarch in the life of Coriolanus relates this as the opinion of Cato the elder, that a great foldier should carry terror in his looks and tone of voice: and the Poet here by following the Hiftorian inadvertently is fallen into a great chronological impropriety. Theob. (0) Make remain is an old way of speaking which fignifies but the fame as remain. fenfibly out-dares... old edit. Thirl. emend. 2 Rom. And I this. 3 Rom. A murrain on't, I took this for filver. [Alarum continues ftill afar off. Enter Martius and Titus Lartius, with a trumpet. Mar. See here thefe movers, that do prize their honours Bury with thofe that wore them, these base flaves, Whilft I, with thofe that have the fpirit, will hafte Lar. Worthy Sir, thou bleed'ft. Mar. Sir, praise me not: Fare you well: My work hath yet not warm'd me. Lar. Now the fair Goddess Fortune Fall deep in love with thee, and her great charms Mar. Thy friend no lefs, 7/Than to thofe fhe placeth highest fo farewel. Lar. Thou worthieft Martius, Go found thy trumpet in the market-place, Call thither all the officers o' th' town, [To the trumpet. Away! [Exeunt. Enter Cominius retreating, with Soldiers. Com. Breathe you, my friends; well fought; we are come off Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands We fhall be charg'd again. Whiles we have ftruck, The charges of our friends. Ye Roman Gods, Lead their fucceffes, as we wifh our own, That both our powers, with fmiling fronts encountring, May give you thankful facrifice! Thy news? Enter a Messenger. Mef. The citizens of Corioli have iffued, And given to Lartius and to Martius battel. I faw our party to their trenches driven, And then I came away. Com. Tho' thou speak'ft truth, Methinks thou fpeak'ft not well. How long is't fince? Mef. Above an hour, my Lord. Com. 'Tis not a mile: briefly we heard their drums. How could't thou in a mile confound an hour, And bring the news fo late? Mef. Spies of the Volfcians Held me in chase, that I was forc❜d to wheel Half an hour fince brought my report. Enter Martius. Com. Who's yonder, That does appear as he were flea'd? O Gods, G 3 He 8 The He has the ftamp of Martius, and I have Mar. Come I too late? Com. The fhepherd knows not thunder from a tabor, More than I know the found of Martius' tongue From every meaner 9 'man's.` 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 In arms as found as when I woo'd; in heart Com. Flower of warriors, Mar. As with a man bufied about decrees; Even like a fawning grey-hound in the leafh, 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 on't! tribunes for them!) Com. But how prevail'd you? Mar. Will the time ferve to tell? I do not think Where is the enemy? are you lords o' th' field ? If not, why ceafe you 'till you are fo? Com. Martius, 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 truft? Com. |