By all the battles wherein we have fought,
By the blood we have shed together, by the 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 here,—
As 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 [waving his hand], 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, a party of Soldiers, and a Scout.]
LARTIUS.
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.
LIEUTENANT.
Fear not our care, sir.
LARTIUS.
Hence, and shut your gates upon’s.—
Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct us.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE VIII. A field of battle between the Roman and the Volscian camps.
[Alarum. Enter, from opposite sides, MARCIUS and AUFIDIUS.]
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,
Halloo 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 the highest.
AUFIDIUS.
Wert thou the Hector
That was the whip of your bragg’d progeny,
Thou shouldst not scape me here.—
[They fight, and certain Volsces come to the aid of AUFIDIUS.]
Officious, and not valiant,—you have sham’d me
In your condemned seconds.
[Exeunt fighting, driven in by MAR.]
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.]
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’ the 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 dined 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; induced
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.