Act I, Scene iv: Before Corioli.
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[Enter, with drum and colours, MARCIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, Officers, and soldiers.]
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| | MARCIUS: | |
| | Yonder comes news:—a wager they have met. | |
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| | LARTIUS: | |
| | My horse to yours, no. | |
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| | MARCIUS: | |
| | Say, has our general met the enemy? | |
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| | MESSENGER: | |
| | They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet. | |
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| | LARTIUS: | |
| | So, the good horse is mine. | |
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| | MARCIUS: | |
| | I'll buy him of you. | |
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| | LARTIUS: | |
| | No, I'll nor sell nor give him: lend you him I will | |
| | For half a hundred years.—Summon the town. | |
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| | MARCIUS: | |
| | How far off lie these armies? | |
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| | MESSENGER: | |
| | Within this mile and half. | |
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| | MARCIUS: | |
| | 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. | |
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[They sound a parley. Enter, on the Walls, some Senators andothers.]
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| | FIRST SENATOR: | |
| | No, nor a man that fears you less than he, | |
| | That's lesser than a little. | |
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[Drum afar off]
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| | Hark, our drums | |
| | 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. | |
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[Alarum far off.]
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| | Hark you far off! | |
| | There is Aufidius; list what work he makes | |
| | Amongst your cloven army. | |
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| | MARCIUS: | |
| | O, they are at it! | |
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| | LARTIUS: | |
| | Their noise be our instruction.—Ladders, ho! | |
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[The Volsces enter and pass over.]
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| | MARCIUS: | |
| | 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 Volsce, | |
| | And he shall feel mine edge. | |
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[Alarums, and exeunt Romeans and Volsces fighting. Romans arebeaten back to their trenches. Re-enter MARCIUS.]
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| | MARCIUS: | |
| | 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 | |
| | Farther than seen, and one infect another | |
| | Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese | |
| | That bear the shapes of men, how have you run | |
| | From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell! | |
| | All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale | |
| | With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge home, | |
| | Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe | |
| | And make my wars on you: look to't: come on; | |
| | If you'll stand fast we'll beat them to their wives, | |
| | As they us to our trenches. | |
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[Another alarum. The Volsces and Romans re-enter, and the fightis renewed. The Volsces retire into Corioli, and MARCIUS followsthem to the gates.]
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| | 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. | |
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| | FIRST SOLDIER: | |
| | Fool-hardiness: not I. | |
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| | FIRST SOLDIER: | |
| | See, they have shut him in. | |
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| | ALL: | |
| | To th' pot, I warrant him. | |
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[Re-enter TITUS LARTIUS.]
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| | LARTIUS: | |
| | What is become of Marcius? | |
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| | ALL: | |
| | Slain, sir, doubtless. | |
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| | FIRST SOLDIER: | |
| | Following the fliers at the very heels, | |
| | With them he enters; who, upon the sudden, | |
| | Clapp'd-to their gates: he is himself alone, | |
| | To answer all the city. | |
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| | LARTIUS: | |
| | 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 | |
| | Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible | |
| | Only in strokes; but with thy grim looks and | |
| | The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds | |
| | Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the world | |
| | Were feverous and did tremble. | |
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[Re-enter MARCIUS, bleeding, assaulted by the enemy.]
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| | FIRST SOLDIER: | |
| | Look, sir. | |
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| | LARTIUS: | |
| | O, 'tis Marcius! | |
| | Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike. | |
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[They fight, and all enter the city.]
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