And, gladly quak'd*, hear more; where the dull Tribunes, That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours, Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast, Enter Titus Lartius, with his powert, from the Lart. pursuit. O general, Pray now, no more: my mother, Here is the steed, we the caparison: Hadst thou beheld Mar. Who has a chartert to extol her blood, When she does praise me, grieves me. I have done, He, that has but effected his good will, Hath overta'en mine act. Com. You shall not be The grave of your deserving; Rome must know What you have done), before our army hear me. smart To hear themselves remember'd. Com. Should they not, Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude, And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses, (Whereof we have ta'en good, and good store), of all * Thrown into grateful trepidation. + Forces, + Privilege. The treasure, in this field achiev'd, and city, Your only choice. Mar. I thank you, general; But cannot make my heart consent to take [A long flourish. They all cry, Marcius! Marcius! cast up their caps and lances: Cominius and Lartius stand bare. Mar. May these same instruments, which you Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall As if I loved my little should be dieted In praises sauced with lies. Too modest are you; Com. More cruel to your good report, than grateful To us that give you truly: by your patience, If 'gainst yourself you be incens'd, we'll put you (Like one that means his propert harm), in mana cles, Then reason safely with you. Therefore, be it' known, As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius Wears this war's garland: in token of the which, My noble steed, known to the camp, i give him, With all his trim belonging; and, from this time, For what he did before Corioli, call him, With all the applause and clamour of the host, Bear the addition nobly ever! [Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums. All. Caius Marcius Coriolanus! Cor. I will go wash; And when my face is fair, you shall perceive To the fairness of my power. So, to our tent: Com. To Rome of our success -You, Titus Lartius, The best t, with whom we may articulate ‡, Lart. I shall, my lord. Com. Take it: 'tis yours.-What is't? Cor. I sometime lay, here in Corioli, At a poor man's house; he us'd me kindly: But then Aufidius was within my view, And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you Com, O, well begg'd! Were he the butcher of my son, he should Cor. By Jupiter, forgot: I am weary; yea, my memory is tir'd.- * Add more by doing his best. Enter into articles. Com. Go we to our tent: The blood upon your visage dries: 'tis time [Exeunt. A flourish. SCENE X. The camp of the Volces. Cornets. Enter Tullus Aufidius, bloody, with two or three Soldiers. Auf. The town is ta'en! 1 Sol. 'Twill be delivered back on good condition. Auf. Condition?— I would, I were a Roman; for I cannot, 1' the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius, If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, He is mine, or I am his: Mine emulation Hath not that honour in't, it had; for where (True sword to sword), I'll potcht at him some way; Or wrath, or craft, may get him. 1 Sol. He's the devil. Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle: My valour's poison'd, With only suffering stain by him; for him Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep, nor sanctuary, Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it Wash my fierce hand in his heart. Go you to the city; Learn, how 'tis held; and what they are, that must Be hostages for Rome. 1 Sol. Will not you go? Auf. 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. 1 Sol. I shall, sir. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. Rome. A public place. Enter Menenius, Sicinius, and Brutus. Men. The augurer tells me, we shall have news to night. Bru. Good, or bad? Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius. Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. Men. Pray you, who does the wolf love? Sic. The lamb. Men. Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius. Bru. He's a lamb, indeed, that baes like a bear. My brother posted to protect him. + Waited for. |