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Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest, |
An suffer'd me by th' voice of slaves to be |
Whoop'd out of Rome. Now this extremity |
Hath brought me to thy hearth; not out of hope, |
Mistake me not, to save my life; for if |
I had fear'd death, of all the men i' th' world |
I would have 'voided thee; but in mere spite, |
To be full quit of those my banishers, |
Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast |
A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge |
Thine own particular wrongs and stop those maims |
Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee straight |
And make my misery serve thy turn. So use it |
That my revengeful services may prove |
As benefits to thee; for I will fight |
Against my cank'red country with the spleen |
Of all the under fiends. But if so be |
Thou dar'st not this, and that to prove more fortunes |
Th'art tir'd, then, in a word, I also am |
Longer to live most weary, and present |
My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice; |
Which not to cut would show thee but a fool, |
Since I have ever followed thee with hate, |
Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast, |
And cannot live but to thy shame, unless |
It be to do thee service. |
AUFIDIUS. O Marcius, Marcius! |
Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart |
A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter |
Should from yond cloud speak divine things, |
And say ''Tis true,' I'd not believe them more |
Than thee, all noble Marcius. Let me twine |
Mine arms about that body, where against |
My grained ash an hundred times hath broke |
And scarr'd the moon with splinters; here I clip |
The anvil of my sword, and do contest |
As hotly and as nobly with thy love |
As ever in ambitious strength I did |
Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, |
I lov'd the maid I married; never man |
Sigh'd truer breath; but that I see thee here, |
Thou noble thing, more dances my rapt heart |
Than when I first my wedded mistress saw |
Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars, I tell the |
We have a power on foot, and I had purpose |
Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn, |
Or lose mine arm for't. Thou hast beat me out |
Twelve several times, and I have nightly since |
Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me- |
We have been down together in my sleep, |
Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat- |
And wak'd half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius, |
Had we no other quarrel else to Rome but that |
Thou art thence banish'd, we would muster all |
From twelve to seventy, and, pouring war |
Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome, |
Like a bold flood o'erbeat. O, come, go in, |
And take our friendly senators by th' hands, |
Who now are here, taking their leaves of me |
Who am prepar'd against your territories, |
Though not for Rome itself. |
CORIOLANUS. You bless me, gods! |
AUFIDIUS. Therefore, most. absolute sir, if thou wilt have |
The leading of thine own revenges, take |
Th' one half of my commission, and set down- |
As best thou art experienc'd, since thou know'st |
Thy country's strength and weakness- thine own ways, |
Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, |
Or rudely visit them in parts remote |
To fright them ere destroy. But come in; |
Let me commend thee first to those that shall |
Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes! |
And more a friend than e'er an enemy; |
Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand; most welcome! |
Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS |
The two SERVINGMEN come forward |
FIRST SERVANT. Here's a strange alteration! |
SECOND SERVANT. By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with |
a cudgel; and yet my mind gave me his clothes made a false report |
of him. |
FIRST SERVANT. What an arm he has! He turn'd me about with his |
finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top. |
SECOND SERVANT. Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in |
him; he had, sir, a kind of face, methought- I cannot tell how to |
term it. |
FIRST SERVANT. He had so, looking as it were- Would I were hang'd, |
but I thought there was more in him than I could think. |
SECOND SERVANT. So did I, I'll be sworn. He is simply the rarest |
man i' th' world. |
FIRST SERVANT. I think he is; but a greater soldier than he you wot |
on. |
SECOND SERVANT. Who, my master? |
FIRST SERVANT. Nay, it's no matter for that. |
SECOND SERVANT. Worth six on him. |
FIRST SERVANT. Nay, not so neither; but I take him to be the |
greater soldier. |
SECOND SERVANT. Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that; |
for the defence of a town our general is excellent. |
FIRST SERVANT. Ay, and for an assault too. |
Re-enter the third SERVINGMAN |
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