The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (book suggestions TXT) 📖

Slain, sir, doubtless.

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.

LARTIUS. O noble fellow!

Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword, And when it bows stand’st 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 FIRST SOLDIER. Look, sir.

LARTIUS. O, ‘tis Marcius!

Let’s fetch him off, or make remain alike.

[They fight, and all enter the city]

 

SCENE V.

Within Corioli. A street

 

Enter certain Romans, with spoils

 

FIRST ROMAN. This will I carry to Rome.

SECOND ROMAN. And I this.

THIRD ROMAN. A murrain on ‘t! I took this for silver.

[Alarum continues still afar off]

 

Enter MARCIUS and TITUS LARTIUS With a trumpeter MARCIUS. See here these movers that do prize their hours At a crack’d drachma! 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!

Exeunt pillagers 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 Convenient numbers to make good the city; Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste To help Cominius.

LARTIUS. Worthy sir, thou bleed’st;

Thy exercise hath been too violent

For a second course of fight.

MARCIUS. Sir, praise me not;

My work hath yet not warm’d me. Fare you well; The blood I drop is rather physical

Than dangerous to me. To Aufidius thus I will appear, and fight.

LARTIUS. Now the fair goddess, Fortune, Fall deep in love with thee, and her great charms Misguide thy opposers’ swords! Bold gentleman, Prosperity be thy page!

MARCIUS. Thy friend no less

Than those she placeth highest! So farewell.

LARTIUS. Thou worthiest Marcius! Exit MARCIUS

Go sound thy trumpet in the marketplace; Call thither all the officers o’ th’ town, Where they shall know our mind. Away! Exeunt

SCENE VI.

Near the camp of COMINIUS

 

Enter COMINIUS, as it were in retire, with soldiers COMINIUS. 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 charg’d 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 encount’ring, May give you thankful sacrifice!

 

Enter A MESSENGER

 

Thy news?

MESSENGER. The citizens of Corioli have issued And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle; I saw our party to their trenches driven, And then I came away.

COMINIUS. Though thou speak’st truth,

Methinks thou speak’st not well. How long is’t since?

MESSENGER. Above an hour, my lord.

COMINIUS. ‘Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums.

How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour, And bring thy news so late?

MESSENGER. Spies of the Volsces

Held me in chase, that I was forc’d to wheel Three or four miles about; else had I, sir, Half an hour since brought my report.

 

Enter MARCIUS

 

COMINIUS. Who’s yonder

That does appear as he were flay’d? O gods!

He has the stamp of Marcius, and I have Before-time seen him thus.

MARCIUS. Come I too late?

COMINIUS. The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor More than I know the sound of Marcius’ tongue From every meaner man.

MARCIUS. Come I too late?

COMINIUS. Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, But mantled in your own.

MARCIUS. O! let me clip ye

In arms as sound as when I woo’d, in heart As merry as when our nuptial day was done, And tapers burn’d to bedward.

COMINIUS. Flower of warriors,

How is’t with Titus Lartius?

MARCIUS. As with a man busied about decrees: Condemning some to death and some to exile; Ransoming him or pitying, threat’ning th’ other; Holding Corioli in the name of Rome

Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, To let him slip at will.

COMINIUS. Where is that slave

Which told me they had beat you to your trenches?

Where is he? Call him hither.

MARCIUS. Let him alone;

He did inform the truth. But for our gentlemen, The common file-a plague! tribunes for them!

The mouse ne’er shunn’d the cat as they did budge From rascals worse than they.

COMINIUS. But how prevail’d you?

MARCIUS. Will the time serve to tell? I do not think.

Where is the enemy? Are you lords o’ th’ field?

If not, why cease you till you are so?

COMINIUS. Marcius,

We have at disadvantage fought, and did Retire to win our purpose.

MARCIUS. How lies their battle? Know you on which side They have plac’d their men of trust?

COMINIUS. As I guess, Marcius,

Their bands i’ th’ vaward are the Antiates, Of their best trust; o’er them Aufidius, Their very heart of hope.

MARCIUS. I do beseech you,

By all the battles wherein we have fought, By th’ blood we have shed together, by th’ vows We have made to endure friends, that you directly Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates; And that you not delay the present, but, Filling the air with swords advanc’d and darts, We prove this very hour.

COMINIUS. Though I could wish

You were conducted to a gentle bath

And balms applied to you, yet dare I never Deny your asking: take your choice of those That best can aid your action.

MARCIUS. Those are they

That most are willing. If any such be hereAs it were sin to doubt-that love this painting Wherein you see me smear’d; if any fear Lesser his person than an ill report; If any think brave death outweighs bad life And that his country’s dearer than himself; Let him alone, or so many so minded,

Wave thus to express his disposition, And follow Marcius. [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 Volsces? 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 obey’d. Please you to march; And four shall quickly draw out my command, Which men are best inclin’d.

COMINIUS. March on, my fellows;

Make good this ostentation, and you shall Divide in all with us. Exeunt

SCENE VII.

The gates of Corioli

 

TITUS LARTIUS, having set a guard upon Corioli, going with drum and trumpet toward COMINIUS and CAIUS MARCIUS, enters with a LIEUTENANT, other soldiers, and a scout

 

LARTIUS. So, let the ports be guarded; keep your duties As I have set them down. If I do send, dispatch Those centuries to our aid; the rest will serve For a short holding. If we lose the field We cannot keep the town.

LIEUTENANT. Fear not our care, sir.

LARTIUS. Hence, and shut your gates upon’s.

Our guider, come; to th’ Roman camp conduct us. Exeunt

SCENE VIII.

A field of battle between the Roman and the Volscian camps Alarum, as in battle. Enter MARCIUS and AUFIDIUS at several doors MARCIUS. I’ll fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee Worse than a promise-breaker.

AUFIDIUS. We hate alike:

Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor

More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot.

MARCIUS. Let the first budger die the other’s slave, And the gods doom him after!

AUFIDIUS. If I fly, Marcius,

Halloa me like a hare.

MARCIUS. Within these three hours, Tullus, 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 th’ highest.

AUFIDIUS. Wert thou the Hector

That was the whip of your bragg’d progeny, Thou shouldst not scape me here.

 

Here they fight, and certain Volsces come in the aid of AUFIDIUS. MARCIUS fights till they be driven in breathless

 

Officious, and not valiant, you have sham’d me In your condemned seconds. Exeunt

SCENE IX.

The Roman camp

 

Flourish. Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Enter, at one door, COMINIUS with the Romans; at another door, MARCIUS, with his arm in a scarf COMINIUS. If I should tell thee o’er this thy day’s work, Thou’t not believe thy deeds; but I’ll report it Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles; Where great patricians shall attend, and shrug, I’ th’ end admire; where ladies shall be frighted 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 din’d before.

 

Enter TITUS LARTIUS, with his power, from the pursuit LARTIUS. O General,

Here is the steed, we the caparison.

Hadst thou beheld—

MARCIUS. Pray now, no more; my mother,

Who has a charter 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 you have been-that’s for my country.

He that has but effected his good will Hath overta’en mine act.

COMINIUS. 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 you, In sign of what you are, not to reward What you have done, before our army hear me.

MARCIUS. I have some wounds upon me, and they smart To hear themselves rememb’red.

COMINIUS. 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’d and city, We render you the tenth; to be ta’en forth Before the common distribution at

Your only choice.

MARCIUS. 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 May these same instruments which you profane Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall I’ th’ 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 th’ wars. No more, I say.

For that I have not wash’d my nose that bled, Or foil’d some debile wretch, which without note Here’s many else have done, you shout me forth In acclamations hyperbolical,

As if I lov’d my little should be dieted In praises sauc’d with lies.

COMINIUS. Too modest are you;

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