The Camp of the Volsces. | |
| |
A Flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, bloody, with two or three Soldiers. | |
| Auf. The town is ta’en! | |
| First Sol. ’Twill be deliver’d back on good condition. | 4 |
| Auf. Condition! | |
| I would I were a Roman; for I cannot, | |
| Being a Volsce, be that I am. Condition! | |
| What good condition can a treaty find | 8 |
| I’ the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius, | |
| I have fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me, | |
| And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter | |
| As often as we eat. By the elements, | 12 |
| If e’er again I meet him beard to beard, | |
| He is mine, or I am his: mine emulation | |
| Hath not that honour in ’t it had; for where | |
| I thought to crush him in an equal force— | 16 |
| True sword to sword—I’ll potch at him some way | |
| Or wrath or craft may get him. | |
| First Sol. He’s the devil. | |
| Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour’s poison’d | 20 |
| With only suffering stain by him; for him | |
| Shall fly out of itself. Nor sleep nor sanctuary, | |
| Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol, | |
| The prayers of priests, nor times of sacrifice, | 24 |
| Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up | |
| Their rotten privilege and custom ’gainst | |
| My hate to Marcius. Where I find him, were it | |
| At home, upon my brother’s guard, even there | 28 |
| Against the hospitable canon, would I | |
| Wash my fierce hand in ’s heart. Go you to the city; | |
| Learn how ’tis held, and what they are that must | |
| Be hostages for Rome. | 32 |
| First Sol. Will not you go? | |
| Auf. I am attended at the cypress grove: I pray you— | |
| ’Tis south the city mills—bring me word thither | |
| How the world goes, that to the pace of it | 36 |
| I may spur on my journey. | |
| First Sol. I shall, sir. [Exeunt. | |
