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Vir. But had he died in the business, Madam? how then?

Vol. Then, his good report should have been my son: I therein would have found issue. Hear me profess sincerely: — had I a dozen sons, - each in my love alike, and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius,

- I had rather had eleven die nobly for their country, than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.

Enter a Gentlewoman.

Gent. Madam, the lady Valeria is come to visit you.
Vir. 'Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.
Vol. Indeed, you shall not.

Methinks, I hear hither your husband's drum,
See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair;

As children from a bear the Volsces shunning him:
Methinks, I see him stamp thus, and call thus,
"Come on, you cowards! you were got in fear,
Though you were born in Rome." His bloody brow
With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes,
Like to a harvest-man, that's task'd to mow
Or all, or lose his hire.

Vir. His bloody brow? O, Jupiter! no blood.
Vol. Away, you fool! it more becomes a man,
Than gilt his trophy: the breasts of Hecuba,
When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier
Than Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood
At Grecian sword's contending. - Tell Valeria,
We are fit to bid her welcome.

Vir. Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!
Vol. He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee,

And tread upon his neck.

[Exit. Gent.

Re-enter Gentlewoman, with VALERIA and her Usher. Val. My ladies both, good day to you.

Vol. Sweet Madam,

Vir. I am glad to see your ladyship.

Val. How do you both? you are manifest housekeepers.

What are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good faith.

How

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Vir. I thank your ladyship; well, good Madam.

Vol. He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, than look upon his school-master.

Val. O' my word, the father's son; I'll swear, 't is a very pretty boy. O' my troth, I looked upon him o' Wednesday half an hour together: he has such a confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded butterfly; and when he caught it, he let it go again; and after it again; and over and over he comes, and up again; catched it again: or whether his fall enraged him, or how 't was, he did so set his teeth, and tear it; O! I warrant, how he mammocked it!

Vol. One of his father's moods.

Val. Indeed la, 't is a noble child.

Vir. A crack, Madam.

Val. Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play the idle huswife with me this afternoon.

Vir. No, good Madam; I will not out of doors.

Val. Not out of doors!

Vol. She shall, she shall.

Vir. Indeed, no, by your patience: I will not over the threshold, till my lord return from the wars.

Vol. Fie! you confine yourself most unreasonably. Come; you must go visit the good lady that lies in.

Vir. I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with my prayers; but I cannot go thither.

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 cambric 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.

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Val. In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it. Thus it is: The Volsces 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.

Vir. No, at a word, Madam; indeed, I must not. I wish you much mirth.

Val.

Well then, farewell.

SCENE IV.

[Exeunt.

Before Corioli.

Enter, with Drum and Colours, MARCIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, Officers, and Soldiers. To them a Messenger.

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Agreed,

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.

Mess.

How far off lie these armies?

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.

A Parley sounded. Enter, on the Walls, two Senators, 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 [Drums 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; [Alarum afar off. 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 Volsces 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 Volsce,
And he shall feel mine edge.

Alarum, and exeunt Romans and Volsces, fighting. The Romans are beaten back to their Trenches. Re-enter MARCIUS enraged. 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

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 follow.

Another Alarum.

The Volsces and Romans re-enter, and the Fight is renewed. The Volsces retire into Corioli, and MARCIUS, follows them to the Gates.

So, now the gates are ope: - now prove good seconds.

"T is for the followers fortune widens them,

Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like.

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Slain, Sir, doubtless.

Lart. What is become of Marcius?
All.

1 Sol. 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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Who sensibly 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.

Re-enter MARCIUS, bleeding, assaulted by the Enemy.

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