Document:  All > Shakespeare > Tragedies > Coriolanus > Act I, scene IV

	[Enter, with drum and colours, MARCIUS, TITUS
	LARTIUS, Captains and Soldiers. To them a

MARCIUS: Yonder comes news. A wager they have met.

LARTIUS: My horse to yours, no.

MARCIUS: 'Tis done.

LARTIUS: Agreed.

MARCIUS: Say, has our general met the enemy?

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

LARTIUS: So, the good horse is mine.

MARCIUS: I'll buy him of you.

LARTIUS: No, I'll nor sell nor give him: lend you him I will
	For half a hundred years. Summon the town.

MARCIUS: How far off lie these armies?

Messenger: Within this mile and half.

MARCIUS: Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they ours.
	Now, Mars, I prithee, 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 two Senators with others
	on the walls]

	Tutus Aufidius, is he within your walls?

First Senator: No, nor a man that fears you less than he,
	That's lesser than a little.

	[Drums afar off]

		       Hark! our drums
	Are bringing forth our youth. We'll break our 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.

	[Alarum afar off]

		      Hark you. far off!
	There is Aufidius; list, what work he makes
	Amongst your cloven army.

MARCIUS: O, they are at it!

LARTIUS: Their noise be our instruction. Ladders, ho!

	[Enter the army of the Volsces]

MARCIUS: 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 Volsce,
	And he shall feel mine edge.

	[Alarum. The Romans are beat back to their
	trenches. Re-enter MARCIUS cursing]

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 Volsces fly, 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.

	[Enters the gates]

First Soldier: Fool-hardiness; not I.

Second Soldier: Nor I.

	[MARCIUS is shut in]

First Soldier: See, they have shut him in.

All: To the pot, I warrant him.

	[Alarum continues]


LARTIUS: What is become of Marcius?

All: 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, 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 madst 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]


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