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Enter Titus LARTIUS, with his power, from the
Pray now, no more: my mother,
I have done, As you have done; that's what I can;
You shall not be
have done,) before our army hear me. Mar. I have some wounds upon me, and they
smart To hear themselves remember'd. Com.
Should they not, Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude, And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses, (Whereof we have ta'en good, and good store,) of all The treasure, in this field achiev'd, and city,
We render you the tenth; to be ta'en forth,
I thank you, general;
[A long flourish. They all cry, Marcius!
and lances : Cominius and Lartius stand bare. Mar. May these same instruments, which you
profane, Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall l' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be Made all of false-fac'd soothing! When steel grows. Soft as the parasite's silk, let him 16 be made An overture for the wars! No more, I say; For that I have not wash'd my nose that bled, Or foil'd some debile wretch, - which, without note, Here's many else have done, you shout me forth In acclamations hyperbolical; As if I lov'd my little should be dieted In praises sauc'd with lies. Com.
Too modest are you; More cruel to your good report, than grateful To us that give you truly: by your patience, If 'gainst yourself you be incens'd, we'll put you (Like one that means his proper harm,) in manacles, Then reason safely with you.-Therefore, be it known,
As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius
[Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums. All. Caius Marcius Coriolanus!.
Cor. I will go wash;
So, to our tent:
I shall, my lord.
I that now
Take it: 'tis yours. What is't?