Coriolanus

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. Re-enter Titus Lartius. 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 madest 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

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 trumpet.
Marcius	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.
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 market-place; Call thither all the officers o’ the 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 charged again. Whiles we have struck, By interims and conveying gusts we have heard The charges of our friends. Ye Roman gods! Lead their successes as we wish our own, That both our powers, with smiling fronts encountering, 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 forced to wheel Three or four miles about, else had I, sir, Half an hour since brought my report.
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	Within. Come I too late?
Cominius	The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabour More than I know the sound of Marcius’ tongue From every meaner man.
	Enter Marcius.
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, threatening the 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