Vol. Let her alone, lady; as she is now, she will but disease our better mirth.

Val. In troth, I think, she would:-Fare you well then.-Come, good sweet lady.-Pr'ythee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o'door, and go along with us. Vir. No: at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish you much mirth.

Val. Well, then farewell.

SCENE IV.

Before Corioli.

[Exeunt.

Enter, with Drum and Colours, MARCIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, Officers, and Soldiers. To them a Mes

Mar. Yonder comes news:-A wager, they have

Mar. Say, has our general met the enemy?

Mess. They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet.

Lart. So, the good horse is mine.

Mar.

I'll buy him of you.

Lart. No, I'll nor sell, nor give him: lend you

him, I will,

For half a hundred years. Summon the town.
Mar. How far off lie these armies?

Mess.

Within this mile and half.

Mar. Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they

ours.

Now, Mars, I pr'ythee, make us quick in work; That we with smoking swords may march from

hence,

To help our fielded friends!-Come, blow thy blast. They sound a parley. Enter, on the walls, some Senators and Others.

Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls?

1 Sen. No, nor a man that fears you less than he, That's lesser than a little. Hark, our drums

[Alarums afar off.

Are bringing forth our youth: We'll break our walls, Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates, Which yet seem shut, we have but pinn'd with-rushes; They'll open of themselves. Hark you, far off;

[Other Alarums.

There is Aufidius: list, what work he makes
Amongst your cloven army.

Mar.

O, they are at it!

Lart. Their noise be our instruction. - Ladders, ho!

The Volces enter, and pass over the Stage.

Mar. They fear us not, but issue forth their city. Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proof than shields. - Advance, 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.

MARCIUS.

Re-enter

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 MARCIUS 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.

2 Sol.

Nor I.

3 Sol.

See, they

Have shut him in.
All.

[Alarum continues.

To the pot, I warrant him.

Enter TITUS LARTIUS.

Lart. What is become of Marcius?

All.

Slain, sir, doubtless.

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.

O noble fellow!

Lart,
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
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:

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

[They fight, and all enter the city.

SCENE V.

Within the town. A Strect.

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 11

At a crack'd dram! 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.

Lart.

Worthy sir, thou bleed'st;

Thy exercise hath been too violent for

A second course of fight.