With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge home,
Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe,

And make my wars on you: look to't: Come on;
If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives,
As they us to our trenches followed.

Another Alarum.

The Volces and Romans re-enter, and
The Volces retire into Corioli,

the fight is renewed.
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. 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, sensible, outdares his senseless sword,

And, when it bows, stands up! - Thou art left, Mar

cius:

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

6 Who, sensible,] Sensible is here, having sensation.

The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds,

Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the world
Were feverous, and did tremble.

Re-enter MARCIUS, bleeding, assaulted by the Enemy.

1 Sol.

Lart.

Look, sir.

'Tis Marcius: t

Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike.

[They fight, and all enter the City.

SCENE V.

Within the Town. A Street.

Enter certain Romans, with Spoils.

1 Rom. This will I 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.

Mar. See here these movers, that do prize their hours At a crack'd drachm! 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:-
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.

+"O, 'tis Marcius:" MALONE.

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 of the town,

Where they shall know our mind: Away.

[Exeunt.

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,

Now 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,

Enter a Messenger.

May give you thankful sacrifice! - Thy news?

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.

Com.

Though thou speak'st truth, Methinks, thou speak'st not well. How long is't since? Mess. Above an hour, my lord.

Com. 'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums: How could'st thou in a mile confound an hour, 7

And bring thy news so late?

Mess.
Spies of the Volces
Held me in chase, that I was forc'd to wheel
Three or four miles about; else had I, sir,
Half an hour since brought my report.

Com.

Enter MARCIUS.

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.

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. †

Mar.

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 you

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:

7

· confound an hour,] Confound is here used not in its common acceptation, but in the sense of―to expend. Conterere tempus. ↑ "every meaner man.- - MALONE.

Condemning some to death, and some to exile;

Ransoming him, or pitying, threat'ning 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?
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 mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat, as they did budge
From rascals worse than they.

Com.

But how prevail'd you?

Mar. Will the time serve to tell? I do not think

Where is the enemy? Are you lords o'the field?

If not, why cease you till you are so?

Com.

Marcius,

We have at disadvantage fought, and did

Retire, to win our purpose.

Mar. How lies their battle? Know you on which side They have plac'd their men of trust?

Com.

As I guess, Marcius, Their hands in the vaward are the Antiates, Of their best trust: o'er them Aufidius,

Their very heart of hope.

Mar.

I do beseech you,

By all the battles wherein we have fought,
By the blood we have shed together, by the vows
We have made to endure friends, that you directly
Set me against Aufidius, and his Antiates :
And that you not delay the present9; but,
Filling the air with swords advanc'd, and darts,
We prove this very hour.

8 Ransoming him, or pitying,] i. e. remitting his ransom.
9 And that you not delay the present ;] Delay, for let slip.