Val. Not out of doors?

Vol. She shall, she shall.

Vir. Indeed, no, by your patience: I will not over the threshold, till my lord return from the

wars.

Val. Fye, you confine yourself most unreasonably; Come, you must go visit the good lady that lies in.

Vir. I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with my prayers; but I cannot go thither.

Vol. Why, I pray you?

Vir. 'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love. Val. You would be another Penelope: yet, they say, all the yarn she spun, in Ulysses' absence, did but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come; I would, your cambrick were sensible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us.

Vir. No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth.

Val. In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you excellent news of your husband.

Vir. O, good madam, there can be none yet.

Val. Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from him last night.

Vir. Indeed, madam?

Val. In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it. Thus it is:-The Volces have an army forth; against whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of our Roman power: your lord, and Titus Lartius, are set down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief* wars. This is true, on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us.

Vir. Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every thing hereafter.

Vol. Let her alone, lady; as she is now, she will

but disease our better mirth.

Val. In troth, I think, she would:-Fare you well then.-Come, good sweet lady.-Pr'ythee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o'door, and go along

with us.

Vir. No: at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish you much mirth.

Val. Well, then farewell.

SCENE IV.

Before Corioli.

[Exeunt.

Enter, with drums and colours, Marcius, Titus Lartius, Officers and Soldiers. To them a Messenger.

Mar. Yonder comes news :-A wager, they have

met.

Lart. My horse to yours, no.

Mar.

Lart.

'Tis done.

Agreed.

Mar. Say, has our general met the enemy?

Mess. They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet.

Lart. So, the good horse is mine.

Mar.

I'll buy him of you.

Lart. No, I'll nor sell, nor give him: lend you

him, I will,

For half a hundred years. Summon the town.
Mar. How far off lie these armies ?

Mess.

Within this mile and half.

Mar. Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they

ours.

Now, Mars, I pr'ythee, make us quick in work; That we with smoking swords may march from

hence,

To help our fielded * friends!-Come, blow thy blast.

They sound a parley. Enter, on the walls, some Senators, and others.

Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls?

1 Sen. No, nor a man that fears you less than he,

That's lesser than a little. Hark, our drums

[Alarums afar off. Are bringing forth our youth: We'll breakour walls, Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates, Which yet seem shut, we have but pinn'd with

rushes;

They'll open of themselves.

There is Aufidius; list, what
Amongst your cloven army.
Mar.

Hark you, far off;
[Other alarums.

work he makes

O, they are at it!

Lart. Their noise be our instruction.-Ladders,

ho!

The Volces enter, and pass over the stage.

Mar. They fear us not, but issue forth their city. Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proof than shields.-Advance,

brave Titus :

They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, Which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on, my

fellows;

He that retires, I'll take him for a Volce,
And he shall feel mine edge.

Alarum, and exeunt Romans and Volces, fighting.
The Romans are beaten back to their trenches.
Re-enter Marcius.

All the contagion of the south light on you, You shames of Rome! you herd of-Boils and

plagues

Plaster you o'er; that you may be abhorr'd
Further than seen, and one infect another
Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese,
That bear the shapes of men, how have you run
From slaves that apes would beat? Pluto and hell!
All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale
With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge

home,

Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe,

And make my wars on you: look to't: Come on; If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives, As they us to our trenches followed.

Another alarum, The Volces and Romans re-enter, and the fight is renewed. The Volces retire into Corioli, and Marcius follows them to the gates.

So, now the gates are ope:-Now prove good

seconds :

'Tis for the followers fortune widens them,

Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like.

[He enters the gates, and is shut in.

1 Sol. Fool-hardiness; not I.

2 Sol.

3 Sol.

Have shut him in.
All.

Nor I.

Enter Titus Lartius.

Lart. What is become of Marcius ?

All.

Slain, sir, doubtless.

1 Sol. 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.

Lart.

O noble fellow !

Who, sensible*, outdares his senseless sword,
And, when it bowst, stands 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.

1 Sol.

Look, sir.

1

Lart.

'Tis Marcius;

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

[They fight, and all enter the city.

SCENE V.

Within the town. A street.

Enter certain Romans, with spoils.

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

3 Rom. A murrain on't! I took this for silver.

[Alarum continues still afar off.

Enter Marcius, and Titus Lartius, with a trumpet. Mar. See here these movers, that do prize their

hours

At a crack'd 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 Convenient numbers to make good the city; Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste To help Cominius.

Lart.

Worthy sir, thou bleed'st;

Thy exercise hath been too valiant for

A second course of fight.

Mar.

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.

Lart.

Now the fair goddess, Fortune,