$Unique_ID{SSP03505}
$Title{Coriolanus:  Act I, Scene V}
$Author{Shakespeare, William}
$Subject{}
$Log{Dramatis Personae*03500.txt}

                Portions copyright (c) CMC ReSearch, Inc., 1989

                   The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

                                   CORIOLANUS


             ACT I
................................................................................


           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,           10
                     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,  20
                     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.]
ÿ