They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet.
So, the good horse is mine.
I'll buy him of you.
No, I'll nor sell nor give him: lend you him I will
For half a hundred years. Summon the town.
How far off lie these armies?
Within this mile and half.
Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they ours.
Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work,
That we with smoking swords may march from hence,
To help our fielded friends! Come, blow thy blast.
Tutus Aufidius, is he within your walls?
No, nor a man that fears you less than he,
That's lesser than a little.
Hark! our drums
Are bringing forth our youth. We'll break our walls,
Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates,
Which yet seem shut, we, have but pinn'd with rushes;
They'll open of themselves.
Hark you. far off!
There is Aufidius; list, what work he makes
Amongst your cloven army.
O, they are at it!
Their noise be our instruction. Ladders, ho!
They fear us not, but issue forth their city.
Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight
With hearts more proof than shields. Advance,
brave Titus:
They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts,
Which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on, my fellows:
He that retires I'll take him for a Volsce,
And he shall feel mine edge.
All the contagion of the south light on you,
You shames of Rome! you herd of--Boils and plagues
Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd
Further 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 followed.
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.
Fool-hardiness; not I.
Nor I.
See, they have shut him in.
To the pot, I warrant him.
What is become of Marcius?
Slain, sir, doubtless.
Following the fliers at the very heels,
With them he enters; who, upon the sudden,
Clapp'd to their gates: