SCENE VI. Near the camp of Cominius. Enter COMINIUS, as it were in retire, with soldiers. Com. Breathe you, my friends: well fought; we are come off Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, sirs, We shall be charged again. Whiles we have struck, That both our powers, with smiling fronts encountering, May give you thankful sacrifice. Enter a Messenger. Thy news? ΤΟ Mess. The citizens of Corioli have issued, Com. since ? Mess. Above an hour, my lord. Com. 'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums: How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour, And bring thy news so late? Spies of the Volsces 16. briefly, a short time since D Three or four miles about, else had I, sir, Com. Who's yonder, That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods! Mar. [Within] Come I too late? Com. The shepherd knows not thunder from More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue 20 Mar. Enter MARCIUS. Come I too late? Com. Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, But mantled in your own. Mar. O, let me clip ye 30 In arms as sound as when I woo'd; in heart Com. How is 't with Titus Lartius ? Flower of warriors, Mar. As with a man busied about decrees: Condemning some to death, and some to exile; Ransoming him, or pitying, threatening the other; Holding Corioli in the name of Rome, Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, To let him slip at will. Com. Which told me they had beat you to your Where is that slave trenches? 40 Let him alone; Mar. He did inform the truth: but for our gentlemen, The common file-a plague! tribunes for them!The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat as they did budge From rascals worse than they. Com. But how prevail'd you? Mar. Will the time serve to tell? I do not think. Where is the enemy? are you lords o' the field? Com. We have at disadvantage fought and did Marcius, Mar. How lies their battle? know you on which side They have placed their men of trust? Com. As I guess, Marcius, Their bands i' the vaward are the Antiates, Mar. I do beseech you, By all the battles wherein we have fought, By the blood we have shed together, by the vows Com. Though I could wish And balms applied to you, yet dare I never Mar. Those are they That most are willing. If any such be here- If any think brave death outweighs bad life, 53. Antiates. So Pope from Plutarch. Ff have Ancients." 50 60 70 And that his country's dearer than himself; [They all shout and wave their swords, take A shield as hard as his. A certain number, rest Shall bear the business in some other fight, Com. March on, my fellows: Make good this ostentation, and you shall 80 Divide in all with us. [Exeunt. SCENE VII. The gates of Corioli. TITUS LARTIUS, having set a guard upon Corioli, going with drum and trumpet toward COMINIUS and CAIUS MARCIUS, enters with a Lieutenant, other Soldiers, and a Scout. Lart. So, let the ports be guarded: keep your duties, 76. O, me alone! make you, etc. The soldiers, called upon to 'wave' their swords, have proceeded to 'wave' him. He plays on the fact. 'Yes, make me your weapon indeed! Follow me up as strenuously as the hand the sword!'-This is more in keeping with the situation than to put a (?) at 'me' (with Capell), as if he jocularly asked whether they took him for a sword. 84. four shall quickly, etc., i.e. four officers are to pick out the best men. As I have set them down. If I do send, dispatch Those centuries to our aid; the rest will serve For a short holding: if we Fear not our care, sir. We cannot keep the town. Lieu. lose the field, Lart. Hence, and shut your gates upon 's. Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct us. [Exeunt. SCENE VIII. A field of battle between the Alarum as in battle. Enter, from opposite sides, Mar. I'll fight with none but thee; for I do hate thee Worse than a promise-breaker. Auf. We hate alike: Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot. Auf. Holloa 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 pleased: 'tis not my blood Wrench up thy power to the highest. Auf. Wert thou the Hector That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny, 4. thy fame and envy, 'thy envied fame' (a 'hendiadys'). 12. the whip, etc., the champion of your race; the Romans reckoning the Trojans their ancestors. |