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They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, Which makes me sweat with wrath.-Come, on my
fellows; He that retires, I'll take him for a Volce, And he shall feel mine edge. Alarum, and exeunt Romans and Volces, fighting. The
Romans are beaten back to their trenches. Re-enter MARCIUS.
Mar. All the contagion of the south light on you, 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, 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 fight is renewed. The Volces retire into
Corioli, and MAReius follows them to the gates. So, now the gates' are ope:– Now prove good se.
conds: '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. Fool-hardiness; not I.
Nor I. 3 Sol.
See, they Have shut him in.
[ Alarum continues, Al.
To the pot, I warrant him.
Enter Titus LARTIUS.
Lart. What is become of Marcius?
Slain, sir, doubtless.
O noble fellow!
Re-enter Marcius, bleeding, assaulted by the enemy. 1 Sol.
Look, sir. Lart.
'Tis Marcius: Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike.
[They fight, and all enter the city. SCENE V.
JVithin the toun. A Street.
Enter certain Romans,, with spoils. 1 Rom. This will I carry to Rome. 2 kom. And I this. 3 Roin. 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 11 At a crack'd dram! Cushions, leaden spoons, Irons of a doit, doublets that hanğmen 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
There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius,
Worthy sir, thou bleed'st;
Sir, praise me not:
Now the fair goddess, Fortune,
Thy friend no less Than those she plaçeth 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. [E.reunt.
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, Nor 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 encount'ring,
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. The citizens of Corioli have issued,
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:
Spies of the Volces
Come I too late?