nose that bled, or foil'd some debile wretch.
Which, without note, here's many else have done,
In acclamations hyperbolical;
As if I loved my little should be dieted
In praises sauced with lies.
Too modest are you;
More cruel to your good report than grateful
To us that give you truly: by your patience,
'gainst yourself you be incensed, we'll put you,
Like one that means his proper harm, in manacles,
reason safely with you. Therefore, be it known,
As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius
war's garland: in token of the which,
My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him,
With all his trim belonging; and
from this time,
For what he did before Corioli, call him,
With all the applause and clamour of the host,
MARCIUS CORIOLANUS! Bear
The addition nobly ever!
Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums
Caius Marcius Coriolanus!
I will go wash;
And when my face is fair, you shall perceive
Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thank you.
mean to stride your steed, and at all times
To undercrest your good addition
To the fairness of my power.
So, to our tent;
Where, ere we do repose us, we will write
To Rome of our success. You, Titus Lartius,
to Corioli back: send us to Rome
The best, with whom we may articulate,
For their own good and ours.
I shall, my lord.
The gods begin to mock me. I, that now
Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg
Of my lord general.
Take't; 'tis yours. What is't?
I sometime lay here in Corioli
At a poor man's house; he used me kindly:
He cried to me; I saw him prisoner;
then Aufidius was within my view,
And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you
To give my poor host freedom.
O, well begg'd!
Were he the butcher of my son, he should
Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus.
Marcius, his name?
By Jupiter! forgot.
I am weary; yea, my memory is tired.
Have we no wine here?
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