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, brave Titus: 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, Alarum, and exeunt Romans and Volces, fighting. The Romans are beaten back to their Trenches. Re-enter MARCIUS. 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 Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese, ། With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge home, Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe, 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 seconds: '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. Following the fliers at the very heels, Lart. O noble fellow! Who, sensible, outdares his senseless sword, And, when it bows, stands up! Thou art left, Marcius: A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art, Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier 6 Who, sensible,] Sensible is here, having sensation. Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible 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 Street. Enter certain Romans, with Spoils. 1 Rom. This will I carry to Rome. 2 Rom. And I this. 3 Rom. A murrian 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 At a crack'd drachm! Cushions, leaden spoons, them. And hark, what noise the general makes!-To him: There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius, Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will hastę To help Cominius. Lart. Thy exercise hath been too violent for Worthy sir, thou bleed'st; Sir, praise me not: A second course of fight. Mar. My work hath yet not warm'd me: Fare you well. The blood I drop is rather physical Than dangerous to me: To Aufidius thus I will appear, and fight. Lart. Now the fair goddess, Fortune, Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman, Prosperity be thy page! Thy friend no less Mar. [Exit MARCIUS. Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place; Call thither all the officers of the town, Where they shall know our mind: Away. [Exeunt, SCENE VI. Near the Camp of Cominius. Enter COMINIUS and Forces, retreating. Com. Breathe you, my friends; well fought: we are come off Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, We shall be charg'd again. Whiles we have struck, That both our powers, with smiling fronts encoun tering, Enter a Messenger. May give you thankful sacrifice!-Thy news? Com. Though thou speak'st truth, Methinks, thou speak'st not well. since? Mess. Above an hour, my lord. Com. 'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums: How could'st thou in a mile confound an hour,7 And bring thy news so late? Mess. Spies of the Volces Held me in chase, that I was forc'd to wheel Three or four miles about; else had I, sir, Half an hour since brought my report. Enter MARCIUS. Who's yonder, Com. That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods! Mar. Come I too late? Com. The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor, More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue From every meaner man's. Mar. Come I too late? Com. Ay, if you come not in the blood of others But mantled in your own. 7 confound an hour,] Confound is here used not in its common acceptation, but in the sense of-to expend. Conterere tempus. |