SCENE IX.-The Roman camp. Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter at bunes That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours, Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast, Enter TITUS LARTIUS, with his power, from the Lart. pursuit. O general, Here is the steed, we the caparison: 2 Hadst thou beheld Mar. Pray now, no more: my mother, Who has a charter3 to extol her blood, Com. You shall not be The grave of your deserving; Rome must know Thrown into grateful trepidation. • This man performed the action, and we only filled up the show. 3 A privilege to praise her own son. Has done more than I have, since I have never accomplished all that I wished. The value of her own: 'twere a concealment 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, We render you the tenth; to be ta'en forth, Your only choice. I thank you, general; Mar. [A long flourish. They all cry, Marcius! Mar- Mar. May these same instruments, which you pro fane, Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall When steel grows soft as silk, let silk be converted to the use of war. U In acclamations hyperbolical; As if I lov'd my little should be dieted Com. To us that give you truly: by your patience, With all th' 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 th' fairness' of my power. Com. So, to our tent: Where, ere we do repose us, we will write To Rome of our success.-You, Titus Lartius, The best,' with whom we may articulate,3 Lart. I shall, my lord. Com. Take it 'tis yours.-What is't? In a proportion equal to my power. "The chief men of Corioli. 3 Enter into articles. Cor. I sometime lay, here in Corioli, But then Aufidius was within my view, And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you Com. O, well begg'd! Were he the butcher of my son, he should [Exeunt. The blood upon your visage dries: 'tis time SCENE X.-The camp of the Volces. 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 Volce, be that I am.-Condition! I' th' part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius, If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, (True sword to sword,) I'll potch at him some way ; Or wrath, or craft, may get him. 1 Sol. He's the devil. Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle: My valour's With only suffering stain by him; for him [poison'd, Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep, nor sanctuary, Being naked, sick; nor fane, nor Capitol, The prayers of priests, nor times of sacrifice, Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it At home, upon my brother's guard, even there Against the hospitable canon, would I Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to th' city; Learn, how 'tis held; and what they are, that must Be hostages for Rome. I 1 Sol. Will not you go? Auf. I am attended3 at the cypress grove: 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 publick place. Enter MENENIUS, SICINIUS, and BRUTUS. Men. The augurer tells me, we shall have news tonight. Bru. Good, or bad? Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius. To mischief him my valour shall deviate from its own native generosity. 3 i. e. expected. • i. e. impediments. |