Enter certain Romans, with spoils.

1st Rom. This will I carry to Rome. 2nd Rom. And I this.

3rd Rom. A murrain on 't! I took this for silver. [Alarum still continues afar off. Enter MARCIUS and TITUS LARTIUS, with a trumpet.

Mar. See here these movers, that do prize their hours

At a cracked drachm!-Cushions, leaden spoons, Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves, Ere yet the fight be done, pack up!-Down with them.

And hark, what noise the general makes!—To

him.

There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius, Piercing our Romans. Then, valiant Titus, take

SCENE VI.-Near the Camp of COMINIUS.
Enter COMINIUS and Forces, retreating.
Com. Breathe you, my friends. Well fought:
we are come off

Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands,
Nor cowardly in retire. Believe me, sirs,
We shall be charged again. Whiles we have struck,
By interims and conveying gusts we have heard
The charges of our friends :-the Roman gods
Lead their successes as we wish our own;
That both our powers, with smiling fronts en-
countering,

May give you thankful sacrifice!--Thy news?

[They all shout, and wave their swords; take him
up in their arms, and cast up their caps.
O me, alone! Make you a sword of me?
If these shows be not outward, which of you
But is four Volces? None of you but is
Able to bear against the great Aufidius
A shield as hard as his. A certain number
(Though thanks to all) must I select from all :
The rest shall bear the business in some other fight,
As cause will be obeyed.-Please you to march;
And four shall quickly draw out my command,
Which men are best inclined.

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, And, gladly quaked, hear more: where the dull Tribunes,

That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours, Shall say, against their hearts,-" We thank the

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 сту, "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-faced 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 washed my nose that bled,
Or foiled some debile 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 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 incensed, we 'll put you (Like one that means his proper harm) in ma

nacles;

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.

1st Sol. "'T will be delivered back on good

condition.

Auf. Condition!

I would, I were a Roman; for I cannot,
Being a Volce, 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 is 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

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 't is held; and what they are that must Be hostages for Rome.

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. Men. He's a bear, indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two are old men: tell me one thing that I shall ask you.

Both Trib. Well, sir.

Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor, that you two have not in abundance?

Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all. Sic. Especially in pride.

Bru. And topping all others in boasting. Men. This is strange now! Do you two know how you are censured here in the city: I mean of us o' the right-hand file? Do you? Both Trib. Why, how are we censured?

Men. Because you talk of pride now,-will you not be angry?

Both Trib. Well, well, sir, well.

Men. Why, 't is no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience. Give your disposition the reins, and be angry at your pleasures: at the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you in being so. You blame Marcius for being proud? Bru. We do it not alone, sir.

Men. I know you can do very little alone; for your helps are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous single: your abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone. You talk of pride: O that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves: O that you could!

Bru. What then, sir?

Men. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates (alias fools) as any in Rome.

Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough too. Men. I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tyber in 't: said to be something imperfect in favouring the first com