Act I, Scene x:
The camp of the Volsces.

[A flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, bloody, with two orthree soldiers.]

AUFIDIUS:

The town is ta'en.

FIRST SOLDIER:

'Twill be delivered back on good condition.

AUFIDIUS:

Condition!

I would I were a Roman; for I cannot,

Being a Volsce, be that I am.—Condition?

What good condition can a treaty find

I' the part that is at mercy?—Five times, Marcius,

I have fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me;

And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter

As often as we eat.—By the elements,

If e'er again I meet him beard to beard,

He's mine or I am his: mine emulation

Hath not that honour in't it had; for where

I thought to crush him in an equal force,—

True sword to sword,—I'll potch at him some way,

Or wrath or craft may get him.

FIRST SOLDIER:

He's the devil.

AUFIDIUS:

Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour's poisoned

With only suffering stain by him; for him

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 the city;

Learn how 'tis held; and what they are that must

Be hostages for Rome.

FIRST SOLDIER:

Will not you go?

AUFIDIUS:

I am attended at the cypress grove: I 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.

FIRST SOLDIER:

I shall, sir.

[Exeunt.]