Auf. We hate alike: Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot. 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 Wert thou the Hector Auf. [They fight, and certain Volsces come to Officious, and not valiant,—you have sham'd me In your condemned seconds. [Exeunt fighting, driven in by MAR. 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, And, gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dull tribunes, Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast, Having fully dined before. Enter TITUS LARTIUS, with his power, from the pursuit. 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 Hath overta'en mine act. You shall not be Com. 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, And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses,- We render you the tenth; to be ta'en forth Your only choice. Mar. I thank you, general; [A long flourish. They all cry, "Marcius! Marcius!" cast up their caps and lances: COMINIUS and LARTIUS stand bare. Mar. May these same instruments which you profane When steel grows soft as the parasite's silk, My nose that bled, or foil'd some debile wretch,- In praises sauc'd with lies. Com. If 'gainst yourself you be incens'd, we'll put you, — With all the applause and clamour of the host, Bear the addition nobly ever! [Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums. All. Caius Marcius Coriolanus! Cor. I will go wash; And when my face is fair you shall perceive To the fairness of my power. Com. For their own good and ours. Lart. I shall, my lord. Cor. The gods begin to mock me. I, that now Com. Take't: 'tis yours.-What is't? Cor. I sometime lay here in Corioli And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you Cor. Cor. By Jupiter, forgot: I am weary; yea, my memory is tir'd.— Com. Go we to our tent: The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time : [Exeunt. SCENE X.-The Camp of the Volsces. A flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, bloody, with two or three Soldiers. Auf. The town is ta'en! 1 Sol. "Twill be deliver'd back on good condition. Auf. Condition! I would I were a Roman; for I cannot, Being a Volsce, be that I am.-Condition! What good condition can a treaty find I' the part that is at mercy ?-Five times, Marcius, If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, Hath not that honour in't it had; for where True sword to sword,-I'll potch at him some way 1 Sol. He's the devil. Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour's poison'd With only suffering stain by him; for him Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep nor sanctuary, Being naked, sick; nor fane nor Capitol, My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it Against the hospitable canon, would I Wash my fierce hand in 's heart. Go you to the city; 1 Sol. Will not you go? Auf. I am attended at the cypress grove: I pray you,― 'Tis south the city mills,—bring me word thither How the world goes, that to the pace of it I may spur on my journey. 1 Sol. I shall, sir. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I.-ROME. A public Place. Enter MENENIUS, SICINIUS, and BRUTUS. Men. The augurer tells me we shall have news to-night. Bru. Good or bad? Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius. Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. Men. Pray you, who does the wolf love? Sic. The lamb. Men. Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius. Bru. He's a lamb indeed, that baas like a bear. Men. He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two are old men: tell me one thing that I shall ask you. Both Trib. Well, sir. Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two have not in abundance? Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all. Sic. Especially in pride. Bru. And topping all others in boasting. Men. This is strange now: do you two know how you are censured here in the city, I mean of us o' the right-hand file? Do you? Both Trib. Why, how are we censured? Men. Because you talk of pride now,-will you not be angry? Both Trib. Well, well, sir, well. Men. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience: give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at your pleasures; at the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you in being so. You blame Marcius for being proud? Bru. We do it not alone, sir. Men. I know you can do very little alone; for your helps are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous single: your abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone. You talk of pride: O that you could turn your eyes toward the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O that you could! Bru. What then, sir? Men. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmerit |