Shakespeare's First Folio Part 458

1.Sol. Foole-hardinesse, not I

2.Sol. Nor I

1.Sol. See they haue shut him in.

Alarum continues

All. To th' pot I warrant him.

Enter t.i.tus Lartius

t.i.t. What is become of Martius?

All. Slaine (Sir) doubtlesse

1.Sol. Following the Flyers at the very heeles, With them he enters: who vpon the sodaine Clapt to their Gates, he is himselfe alone, To answer all the City

Lar. Oh n.o.ble Fellow!

Who sensibly out-dares his sencelesse Sword, And when it bowes, stand'st vp: Thou art left Martius, A Carbuncle intire: as big as thou art Weare not so rich a Iewell. Thou was't a Souldier Euen to Calues wish, not fierce and terrible Onely in strokes, but with thy grim lookes, and The Thunder-like percussion of thy sounds Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the World Were Feauorous, and did tremble.

Enter Martius bleeding, a.s.saulted by the Enemy.

1.Sol. Looke Sir

Lar. O 'tis Martius.

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

They fight, and all enter the City.

Enter certaine Romanes with spoiles.

1.Rom. This will I carry to Rome

2.Rom. And I this

3.Rom. A Murrain on't, I tooke this for Siluer.

Exeunt.

Alarum continues still a-farre off.

Enter Martius, and t.i.tus with a Trumpet.

Mar. See heere these mouers, that do prize their hours At a crack'd Drachme: Cus.h.i.+ons, Leaden Spoones, Irons of a Doit, Dublets that Hangmen would Bury with those that wore them. These base slaues, Ere yet the fight be done, packe vp, downe with them.

And harke, what noyse the Generall makes: To him There is the man of my soules hate, Auffidious, Piercing our Romanes: Then Valiant t.i.tus take Conuenient Numbers to make good the City, Whil'st I with those that haue the spirit, wil haste To helpe Cominius

Lar. Worthy Sir, thou bleed'st, Thy exercise hath bin too violent, For a second course of Fight

Mar. Sir, praise me not: My worke hath yet not warm'd me. Fare you well: The blood I drop, is rather Physicall Then dangerous to me: To Auffidious thus, I will appear and fight

Lar. Now the faire G.o.ddesse Fortune, Fall deepe in loue with thee, and her great charmes Misguide thy Opposers swords, Bold Gentleman: Prosperity be thy Page

Mar. Thy Friend no lesse, Then those she placeth highest: So farewell

Lar. Thou worthiest Martius, Go sound thy Trumpet in the Market place, Call thither all the Officers a'th' Towne, Where they shall know our minde. Away.

Exeunt.

Enter Cominius as it were in retire, with soldiers.

Com. Breath you my friends, wel fought, we are come off, Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, Nor Cowardly in retyre: Beleeue me Sirs, We shall be charg'd againe. Whiles we haue strooke By Interims and conueying gusts, we haue heard The Charges of our Friends. The Roman G.o.ds, Leade their successes, as we wish our owne, That both our powers, with smiling Fronts encountring, May giue you thankfull Sacrifice. Thy Newes?

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. The Cittizens of Corioles haue yssued, And giuen to Lartius and to Martius Battaile: I saw our party to their Trenches driuen, And then I came away

Com. Though thou speakest truth, Me thinkes thou speak'st not well. How long is't since?

Mes. Aboue an houre, my Lord

Com. 'Tis not a mile: briefely we heard their drummes.

How could'st thou in a mile confound an houre, And bring thy Newes so late?

Mes. Spies of the Volces Held me in chace, that I was forc'd to wheele Three or foure miles about, else had I sir Halfe an houre since brought my report.

Enter Martius.

Com. Whose yonder, That doe's appeare as he were Flead? O G.o.ds, He has the stampe of Martius, and I haue Before time seene him thus

Mar. Come I too late?

Com. The Shepherd knowes not Thunder fro[m] a Taber, More then I know the sound of Martius Tongue From euery meaner man

Martius. Come I too late?

Com. I, if you come not in the blood of others, But mantled in your owne

Mart. Oh! let me clip ye In Armes as sound, as when I woo'd in heart; As merry, as when our Nuptiall day was done, And Tapers burnt to Bedward

Com. Flower of Warriors, how is't with t.i.tus Lartius?

Mar. As with a man busied about Decrees: Condemning some to death, and some to exile, Ransoming him, or pittying, threatning th' other; Holding Corioles in the name of Rome, Euen like a fawning Grey-hound in the Leash, To let him slip at will

Com. Where is that Slaue Which told me they had beate you to your Trenches?

Where is he? Call him hither

Mar. Let him alone, He did informe the truth: but for our Gentlemen, The common file, (a plague-Tribunes for them) The Mouse ne're shunn'd the Cat, as they did budge From Rascals worse then they

Com. But how preuail'd you?

Mar. Will the time serue to tell, I do not thinke: Where is the enemy? Are you Lords a'th Field?

If not, why cease you till you are so?

Com. Martius, we haue at disaduantage fought, And did retyre to win our purpose

Mar. How lies their Battell? Know you on w side They haue plac'd their men of trust?

Com. As I guesse Martius, Their Bands i'th Vaward are the Antients Of their best trust: O're them Auffidious, Their very heart of Hope

Mar. I do beseech you, By all the Battailes wherein we haue fought, By th' Blood we haue shed together, By th' Vowes we haue made To endure Friends, that you directly set me Against Affidious, and his Antiats, And that you not delay the present (but Filling the aire with Swords aduanc'd) and Darts, We proue this very houre