That both our powers, with smiling fronts encoun tering, Enter a Messenger. May give you thankful sacrifice!-Thy news? 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, 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! Mar. Come I too late? Com. The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor, More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue, 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 • Expend. As merry, as when our nuptial day was done, 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, 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 of the field? Com. We have at disadvantage fought, and did Retire, to win our purpose. Marcius, Mar. How lies their battle? Know you on which side They have plac'd their men of trust? Com. As I guess, Marcius, Their bands in the vaward are the Antiatest, 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: Front. + Soldiers of Antium] And that you not delay the present; but, Filling the air with swords advanc'd, and darts, Com. Though I could wish And balms applied to you, yet dare I never Mar. Those are they That most are willing:-If any such be here If any think, brave death outweighs bad life, Wave thus, [Waving his hand.] to express his dis position, And follow Marcius. [They all shout, and wave their swords; take him up in their arms, and cast up their caps. O me, alone! Make you a sword of me? If these shows be not outward, which of you Com. March on, my fellows Make good this ostentation, and you shall Divide in all with us. Present time. [Exeunt. SCENE VII. The gates of Corioli. Titus Lartius, having set a guard upon Corioli, going with a drum and trumpet toward Cominius and Caius Marcius, enters with a Lieutenant, a party of Soldiers, and a Scout. Lart. So, let the ports* be guarded: keep your duties, As I have set them down. If I do send, despatch Those centuriest to our aid; the rest will serve For a short holding: If we lose the field, We cannot keep the town. Lieu. Fear not our care, sir. Lart. Hence, and shut your gates upon us.Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct us. [Exeunt. SCENE VIII. A field of battle between the Roman and the Volscian camps. Alarum. Enter Marcius and Aufidius. Mar. I'll fight with none but thee; for I do hate thee Worse than a promise-breaker. Auf. We hate alike; Not Africk owns a serpent, I abhor More than thy fame and envy: Fix thy foot. * Gates. + Companies of a hundred men. Mar. Let the first budger* die the other's slave, And the gods doom him after! Auf. Halloo me like a hare. Mar. If I fly, Marcius, 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 seest me mask'd; for thy revenge, Wrench up thy power to the highest. Wert thou the Hector, Auf. [They fight, and certain Volces come to the Officious, and not valiant-you have sham'd me [Exeunt fighting, driven in by Marcius. SCENE IX. The Roman camp. Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter at one side, Cominius, and Romans; at the other side, Marcius, with his arm in a scarf, and other Romans. Com. If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work, Thou'lt not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it, |