Vol. Why, I pray you? Vir. "Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love. Val. You would be another Penelope: yet, they say, all the yarn she spun, in Ulysses' absence, did but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come; I would, your cambrick were sensible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us. Vir. No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth. Val. In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you excellent news of your husband. Vir. O, good madam, there can be none yet. Val. Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from him last night. Vir. Indeed, madam ? Val. In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it. Thus it is: -The Volces have an army forth; against whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of our Roman power: your lord, and Titus Lartius, are set down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief wars. This is true, on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us. Vir. Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every thing hereafter. Vol. Let her alone, lady; as she is now, she will but disease our better mirth. Val. In troth, I think, she would :-Fare you well then. Come, good sweet lady.-Pr'ythee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o'door, and go along with us. VOL. VIII. K 7 Short. Vir. No: at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish you much mirth. Val. Well, then farewell. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Before Corioli. Enter, with Drum and Colours, MARCIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, Officers and Soldiers. To them a Messenger. Mar. Yonder comes news:-A wager, they have Mar. Say, has our general met the enemy? Mess. They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet. Lart. So, the good horse is mine. Mar. I'll buy him of you. Lart. No, I'll nor sell, nor give him: lend you him, I will, For half a hundred years. Summon the town. Mar. How far off lie these armies? Mess. Within this mile and half. Mar. Then shall we hear their larum, and they ours. Now, Mars, I pr'ythee make us quick in work; That we with smoking swords may march from hence, To help our fielded & friends!-Come, blow thy blast. • In the field of battle. They sound a parley. Enter, on the walls, some Sena tors, and Others. Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls? 1 Sen. No, nor a man that fears you less than he, 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 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. Mar. All the contagion of the south light on you K2 1 You shames of Rome! you herd of-Boils and plagues. Plaster you o'er; that you may be abhorr'd Further than seen, and one infect another Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese, 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. Fool-hardiness; not I. 2 Sol. Nor I. 3 Sol. See, they Have shut him in. [Alarum continues. To the pot, I warrant him. Enter TITUS LARTIUS. Lart. What is become of Marcius? All. Slain, sir, doubtless. 1 Sol. Following the fliers at the very heels, With them he enters: who, upon the sudden, O noble fellow! To answer all the city. 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 Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks, and 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 murrain on't! I took this for silver. [Alarum continues still afar off. Enter MARCIUS, and TITUSLARTIUS, with a trumpet. Mar. See here these movers, that do prize their hours 9 Having sensation, feeling. ■When it is bent. |