Those centuries 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 Volcian 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.

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.

Auf.

VOL. XI,

Wert thou the Hector,

D

That was the whip of your bragg'd 14 progeny,

Thou should'st not scape me here.

[They fight, and certain Volces come

to the aid of Aufidius.

Officious, and not valiant-you have sham'd me

In your condemned seconds.

[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, Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles; Where great patricians shall attend, and shrug, I' the end, admire; where ladies shall be frighted, And, gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dull Tri

bunes,

That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours,
Shall say, against their hearts,-We thank the gods,
Our Rome hath such a soldier!-

Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast,
Having fully din'd before.

:

AUTOR

Enter TITUS LARTIUS, with his power, from the

Lart.

pursuit.

O general,

Here is the steed, we the caparison 15:

Hadst thou beheld

Mar.

Pray now, no more: my mother,

Who has a charter to extol her blood,

When she does praise me, grieves me. I have done,

As you have done; that's what I can; induc'd

As you have been; that's for my country:
He, that has but effected his good will,
Hath overta'en mine act.

Com.

You shall not be

The grave of your deserving; Rome must know
The value of her own: 'twere a concealment
Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement,
To hide your doings; and to silence that,
Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd,
Would seem but modest: Therefore, I beseech you,
(In sign of what you are, not to reward

What you 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,