SCENE VII.

The Gates of Corioli.

TITUS LARTIUS, having set a guard upon Corioli, going with a drum and trumpet toward Cominius and Caius Marcius, enters with a lieutenant, a party of soldiers, and a scout.

Lart. So, let the ports be guarded: keep your duties,

As I have set them down. If I do send, despatch
Those centuries" to our aid; the rest will serve
For a short holding: If we lose the field,

We cannot keep the town.

Lieu.

Fear not our care, sir.

Lart. Hence, and shut your gates upon us.Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct us.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VIII.

A field of battle between the Roman and the Volcian

Camps.

Alarum. Enter MARCIUS and AUFIDIUS.

Mar. I'll fight with none but thee; for I do hate

thee

Worse than a promise-breaker.

Auf.

We hate alike;

Not Africk owns a serpent, I abhor

More than thy fame and envy: Fix thy foot.

6 Gates.

7 Companies of a hundred men.

8

Mar. Let the first budger die the other's slave,

And the gods doom him after!

Auf.

If I fly, Marcius,

Within these three hours, Tullus,

Halloo me like a hare.

Mar.

Alone I fought in your Corioli walls,

And made what work I pleas'd; 'Tis not my blood, Wherein thou seest me mask'd; for thy revenge, Wrench up thy power to the highest.

Auf.

Wert thou the Hector,

That was the whip' of your bragg'd progeny,

Thou should'st not scape me here.

[They fight, and certain Volces come to the aid of
Aufidius.

Officious, and not valiant-you have sham'd me
In your condemned seconds,'

[Exeunt fighting, driven in by Marcius.

SCENE IX.

The Roman Camp.

Alarum. A Retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter at one side, COMINIUS, and Romans; at the other side, MARCIUS, with his arm in a scarf, and other Romans.

Com. If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work, Thou'lt not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it, Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles; Where great patricians shall attend, and shrug, I' the end, admire; where ladies shall be frighted,

* Stirrer. 9 Boast, crack.

■ In sending such help.

And, gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dull

Tribunes,

That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours,
Shall say, against their hearts-We thank the gods,
Our Rome hath such a soldier!-

Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast,
Having fully dined before.

Enter TITUS LARTIUS, with his power,3 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 charter 4 to extol her blood,

When she does praise me, grieves me. I have done,

As you have done; that's what I can; induc'd

As have been; that's for my country:

you

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
The value of her own: 'twere a concealment
Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement,
To hide your doings; and to silence that,
Which to the spire and top of praises vouch'd,
Would seem but modest: Therefore, I beseech
(In sign of what you are, not to reward
What you have done,) before our army hear me.
Mar. I have some wounds upon me, and they

smart

you,

2 Thrown into grateful trepidation. 3 Forces. + Privilege.

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
The treasure, in this field achiev❜ð, and city,
We render you the tenth; to be ta'en forth,
Before the common distribution, at

Your only choice.

Mar.

I thank you, general;

But cannot make my heart consent to take
A bribe to pay my sword: I do refuse it;
And stand upon my common part with those
That have beheld the doing.

[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 profane,

Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall
I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be
Made all of false-fac'd soothing: When steel grows
Soft as the parasite's silk, let him be made
An overture for the wars! No more, I say;
For that I have not wash'd my nose that bled,
Or foil'd some debiles wretch,-which, without note,
Here's many else have done,—you shout me forth
In acclamations hyperbolical;

As if I loved my little should be dieted

In praises sauc'd with lies.

Com.

Too modest are you;

5 Weak, feeble.

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 proper harm,) in manacles,
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,
CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS.-

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
Whether I blush, or no: Howbeit, I thank you :-
I mean to stride your steed; and, at all times,
To undercrest your good addition,

To the fairness of my power.

Com.

So, to our tent:

Where, ere we do repose us, we will write

To Rome of our success.-
-You, Titus Lartius,
Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome

The best, with whom we may articulate,"
For their own good, and ours.

Lurt.

I shall, my lord.

1

Cor. The gods begin to mock me. I that now
Refus'd most princely gifts, am bound to beg
Of my lord general.

Own. 7 Add more by doing his best.
9 Enter into articles.

$ Chief men.