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