The Tragedy of Coriolanus. Уильям Шекспир

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The Tragedy of Coriolanus - Уильям Шекспир


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on you,

      You shames of Rome! – you herd of – Boils and plagues

      Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd

      Farther than seen, and one infect another

      Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese

      That bear the shapes of men, how have you run

      From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell!

      All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale

      With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge home,

      Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe

      And make my wars on you: look to't: come on;

      If you'll stand fast we'll beat them to their wives,

      As they us to our trenches.

      [Another alarum. The Volsces and Romans re-enter, and the fight is renewed. The Volsces retire into Corioli, and MARCIUS follows them to the gates.]

      So, now the gates are ope: – now prove good seconds:

      'Tis for the followers fortune widens them,

      Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like.

      [He enters the gates]

FIRST SOLDIER

      Fool-hardiness: not I.

SECOND SOLDIER

      Nor I.

      [MARCIUS is shut in.]

FIRST SOLDIER

      See, they have shut him in.

ALL

      To th' pot, I warrant him.

      [Alarum continues]

      [Re-enter TITUS LARTIUS.]

LARTIUS

      What is become of Marcius?

ALL

      Slain, sir, doubtless.

FIRST SOLDIER

      Following the fliers at the very heels,

      With them he enters; who, upon the sudden,

      Clapp'd-to their gates: he is himself alone,

      To answer all the city.

LARTIUS

      O noble fellow!

      Who sensible, outdares his senseless sword,

      And when it bows stands up! Thou art left, Marcius:

      A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art,

      Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier

      Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible

      Only in strokes; but with thy grim looks and

      The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds

      Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the world

      Were feverous and did tremble.

      [Re-enter MARCIUS, bleeding, assaulted by the enemy.]

FIRST SOLDIER

      Look, sir.

LARTIUS

      O, 'tis Marcius!

      Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike.

      [They fight, and all enter the city.]

      SCENE V. Within 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 drachma! 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,

      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,

      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.]

      SCENE VI. Near the camp of COMINIUS

      [Enter COMINIUS and Foreces, retreating.]

COMINIUS

      Breathe you, my friends: well fought; we are come off

      Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands

      Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, sirs,

      We shall be charg'd again. Whiles we have struck,

      By interims and conveying gusts we have heard

      The charges of our friends. The Roman gods,

      Lead their successes as we wish our own,

      That both our powers, with smiling fronts encountering,

      May give you thankful sacrifice! —

      [Enter A MESSENGER.]

      Thy news?

MESSENGER

      The citizens of Corioli have issued,

      And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle:

      I saw our party to their trenches driven,

      And then I came away.

COMINIUS

      Though thou speak'st truth,

      Methinks thou speak'st not well. How long is't since?

MESSENGER

      Above


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