Act 1 - Scene 5
Corioli. A street.
Enter certain Romans, with spoils
This will I carry to Rome.
And I this.
A murrain on't! I took this for silver.
Alarum continues still afar off
Enter MARCIUS and TITUS LARTIUS with a trumpet
See here these movers that do prize their hours
At a crack'd drachm! Cushions, leaden spoons,
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
Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste
To help Cominius.
Worthy sir, thou bleed'st;
Thy exercise hath been too violent for
A second course of fight.
Sir, praise me not;
My work hath yet not warm'd me: fare you well:
The blood I drop is rather physical
dangerous to me: to Aufidius thus
I will appear, and fight.
Now the fair goddess, Fortune,
Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms
Misguide thy opposers' swords!
Prosperity be thy page!
Thy friend no less
Than those she placeth highest! So, farewell.
Thou worthiest Marcius!
Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place;
Call thither all the officers o' the town,
Where they shall know
our mind: away!
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