University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Coriolanus and Decius before the Walls of Corioles.
Mart.
How far off Lye these Armies?

Dec.
Scarce half a League.

Mart.
Then we shall hear their Larum, and they ours.
Now Fire-Ey'd Mars make us but quick in Work,
That we with reeking Swords may March from hence
To Help our Fielded Friends; Come Blow the Blast.
A Parley, the Senators Appear on the Walls.
Tullus Aufidius, Is he within the Walls?

Sen.
No, nor a Man that Fears you less than he.
Hark how our Drums call forth our Youths; our Gates
With yet seem shut, we have but pinn'd with Rushes;
They'l open of themselves: Heark, to the Field,
There is Aufidius; list what Work he makes
Amongst your broken Army.

Mart.
Oh they are at it!
Their Noise be our Instruction; Ladders hoe!
They Fear us not, but Issue from their City.
Now Plant your Shields before your Hearts, and Fight
With Hearts more Proof than Shields. Advance brave Decius,
They Disdain us much beyond our Thoughts,
Which makes me Sweat with Rage: Come on my Fellows,
He that retires, I'll take him for a Volsce,
And he shall Feel my Sword.
Alarum; The Romans beat back to their Trenches, Re-enter Martius Cursing.
All the Contagion of the South light on you,
You shames of Rome, now Botches, Boyls, and Plagues
Crust you all o're, that you may be Abhor'd,
Further than seen; you Souls of Daws and Geese,
That bear the Shapes of Men; how have you run
From Slaves, that Apes wou'd beat, Pluto and Hell?
All hurt behind, Backs red, and Faces pale,
Mend, and Charge Home,
Or by the Fires of Heav'n, I'll leave the Foe,
And make my Wars on you; look to't; come on.
[Alarum agen.
So, now the Gates are Open, now prove good Seconds,
'Tis for the Followers Fortune, not the Flyers:
Mark me, and do the like.

[Martius, with a few follows them to the Gates, and is shut in.
1 Sol.
Fool hardiness? not I.

2 Sol.
Nor I.

1 Sol.
See, they, they have shut 'em in.

All.
To th'Pot, I warrant 'em.

Alarum continues, Re-enter Martius with his Party, as having Forc't their Way through the Citty; his Followers 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.

Mart.
See here these Pismires, that do Prize their Labours
At a crack'd Drachma, Cush'ons, Leaden Spoons;
Old Scraps of Iron, Doublets, that Hangmen wou'd
Bury with those that Wore 'em; these vile Slaves,
E're yet the Fight be done, Pack-up; down with them,
And Heark what Noise the General makes; let's to Him,
There is the Man of my Souls Hate, Aufidius
Peircing our Romans; Valiant Decius, take
Convenient Numbers to make Good the Citty,
Whilst I with those that have the Spirit, will Hast
To Help Comminius.

Dec.
You Bleed apace My Lord;
Your Exercise has been too Violent,
For a Second Course of Fight.

Mart.
Sir, Praise me not;
My Work has yet not Warm'd me; Fare you well:
The Blood I Drop, is rather Physical,
Than Dangerous to me: to Aufidius thus
Will I Appear, and Dare him to my Sword.

[Exit. Severally.
SCENE Changes to a Camp or Field, an Alarum.
Cominius and Aufidius, are seen Engaging each Other, with their Parties: Cominius is Beaten off; Martius with his Souldiers Enters Hastily on the other Side.
Mart.
Turn, turn Aufidius, this Way lies your Game:
I'll Fight with None but Thee; for I do Hate Thee
Worse, than a Promise breaker.

Auf.
No Hate lost;
Not Africk Breeds a Serpent I Abhor,
More than thy Fame and Thee: Here fix thy Foot.

Mart.
Let the first Starter Dye the other's Slave,
And the Gods Toom him after.

Auf.
If I Fly Martius, holloo me like a Hare.

Mart.
Within these three Hours Tullus,
I Fought within the Walls of your Corioles,
And made what Work I Pleas'd; 'tis not my Blood,
Thou see'st me Smear'd with, 'tis thy Dearest Kindred's.
Take That to Work thy Fury to the Height;
For I wou'd have thee Warm.

Auf.
VVert Thou the Hector
That was the VVhip of thy feign'd Progeny,
Thou shou'dst not Pass this Munite.

Alarum: They Fight off; after which, a Retreat Sounded: Re-enter Martius and Cominius, at several Doors.
Com.
Come to my Arms most Noble Martius,
If I shou'd tell thee o're this thy days VVork,
Thou'lt not believe thy Deeds; but I'll Report 'em,
VVhere Senators shall mingle Smiles with Tears;
VVhere Ladies shall Express a fearful Joy:
VVhere the Dull Tribunes that do Hate thy Honours,
Shall Cry against their Hearts, we Thank the Gods,
That Rome has such a Souldier.

Mart.
Beseech ye Sir no more:
My Mother that has Priviledge to Extol
Her Blood; when She do's Praise me, Grieves me.

Com.
You shall not be the Grave of your Deserts;
For Rome must know the Value of Her Own:
'Twere a Concealment worse than Sacriledge.
Therefore, before our Army you must Hear me.

Mart.
I have some VVounds upon me, and they Smart,
To Hear themselves Remembred.

Com.
Of all the fiery Steeds, and goodliest Treasure,
VVe have taken from the Citty and the Field,
VVe Offer you the Tenth, to be tane forth,
Before the Common Distribution;
Choose for thy self.

Mart.
I Thank my General,
But cannot make my Heart Consent, to take
A Bribe to pay my Sword; I do Refuse it,
And stand upon my common Share, with Those
That Joyn'd with me in Fight.
A Flowrish, All Wave their Swords, and Cry Martius, Martius.
May these same Instruments which you Profane,
Never Sound more; when Drums and Trumpets shall
I'th' Field turn Flatterers, then let Courts be Honest:
No more I say.

Com.
You are Unjust to your own Merits Martius,
And we must see 'em Righted; be it therefore known
To all the World, that Caius Martius
Wears this War's Garland; and in Token of it,
My Warlike Steed (known to the Camp) I give Him,
With all his Golden Trappings; and henceforth,
For what He did before Corioles, call Him,
With all th'Applause of our Victorious Camp,
Caius Martius Coriolanus.

Trumpets, Drums, and Shouts again.
Mart.
I will go Wash, and then you shall Perceive,
Whether I Blush or no.

Com.
So to our Tent,
Where 'ere we do Repose us, we will Write
To Rome of our Success; you Attalus
Must to Corioles back with our Commands.

Mart.
The Gods begin to Mock me, I
That now Refus'd most Princely Gifts, am Bound
To Beg of my Lord General.

Com.
Speak and Take.

Mart.
I sometime Lay here in Corioles,
At a poor Old Mans House, he us'd me Kindly;
I'th' Fight I saw him Pris'ner, he Cry'd to me:
But then Aufidius was within my View,
And Rage o're came my Pitty: I Beseech you
To give my poor Oft Freedom.

Com.
Noble still:
Were he the Butcher of my Son, he shou'd
Be Free, as is the Wind.

Cor.
I'll Find him out.
Now let us Sacrifice to th'Gods, and Pray
For many Rival Days, to This on Rome;
Then Yield our Pious Rites, to our Slain Friends;
That done, to gen'ral Mirth our Legions Sound,
Our Labour'd Brows with Bays, and Myrtle Crown'd,
And make with Genial Wine, our empty'd Veins Abound.

[Exeunt.