The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: aa3r - Tragedies, p. 5

Left Column


The Tragedie of Coriolanus. Mar.

Say, ha's our Generall met the Enemy?

Mess.

They lye in view, but haue not spoke as yet.

Lart.

So, the good Horse is mine.

Mart.
[470]

Ile buy him of you.

Lart. No, Ile nor sel, nor giue him: Lend you him I will For halfe a hundred yeares: Summon the Towne. Mar.

How farre off lie these Armies?

Mess.

Within this mile and halfe.

Mar.
[475]
Then shall we heare their Larum, & they Ours. Now Mars, I prythee make vs quicke in worke, That we with smoaking swords may march from hence To helpe our fielded Friends. Come, blow thy blast. They Sound a Parley: Enter two Senators with others on the Walles of Corialus. Tullus Auffidious, is he within your Walles?
1. Senat.
[480]
No, nor a man that feares you lesse then he, That's lesser then a little: Drum a farre off. Hearke, our Drummes Are bringing forth our youth: Wee'l breake our Walles Rather then they shall pound vs vp our Gates,
[485]
Which yet seeme shut, we haue but pin'd with Rushes, They'le open of themselues. Harke you, farre off Alarum farre off. There is Auffidious. List what worke he makes Among'st your clouen Army.
Mart.

Oh they are at it.

Lart.
[490]
Their noise be our instruction. Ladders hoa.
Enter the Army of the Volces. Mar. They feare vs not, but issue forth their Citie. Now put your Shields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proofe then Shields. Aduance braue Titus,
[495]
They do disdaine vs much beyond our Thoughts, which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on my fellows He that retires, Ile take him for a Volce, And he shall feele mine edge.
Alarum, the Romans are beat back to their Trenches Enter Martius Cursing. Mar. All the contagion of the South, light on you,
[500]
You Shames of Rome: you Heard of Byles and Plagues Plaister you o're, that you may be abhorr'd Farther then seene, and one infect another Against the Winde a mile: you soules of Geese, That beare the shapes of men, how haue you run
[505]
From Slaues, that Apes would beate; Pluto and Hell, All hurt behinde, backes red, and faces pale With flight and agued feare, mend and charge home, Or by the fires of heauen, Ile leaue the Foe, And make my Warres on you: Looke too't: Come on,
[510]
If you'l stand fast, wee'l beate them to their Wiues, As they vs to our Trenches followes. Another Alarum, and Martius followes them to gates, and is shut in. So, now the gates are ope: now proue good Seconds, 'Tis for the followers Fortune, widens them, Not for the flyers: Marke me, and do the like.
Enter the Gati. 1. Sol.
[515]

Foole‑hardinesse, not I.

2. Sol.

Nor I

1. Sol.

See they haue shut him in.

Alarum continues All.

To th'pot I warrant him.

Enter Titus Lartius Tit.

What is become of Martius?

All.
[520]

Slaine (Sir) doubtlesse.

1. Sol. Following the Flyers at the very heeles,

Right Column


With them he enters: who vpon the sodaine Clapt to their Gates, he is himselfe alone, To answer all the City. Lar.
[525]
Oh Noble Fellow! Who sensibly out‑dares his sencelesse Sword, And when it bowes, stand'st vp: Thou art left Martius, A Carbuncle intire: as big as thou art Weare not so rich a Iewell. Thou was't a Souldier
[530]
Euen to Calues wish, not fierce and terrible Onely in strokes, but with thy grim lookes, and The Thunder‑like percussion of thy sounds Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the World Were Feauorous, and did tremble.
Enter Martius bleeding, assaulted by the Enemy. 1. Sol.
[535]

Looke Sir.

Lar. O 'tis Martius. Let's fetch him off, or make remaine alike. They fight, and all enter the City.
[Act 1, Scene 5] Enter certaine Romanes with spoiles. 1. Rom.

This will I carry to Rome.

2. Rom.

And I this.

3. Rom.
[540]

A Murrain on't, I tooke this for Siluer.

exeunt. Alarum continues still a‑farre off. Enter Martius, and Titus with a Trumpet. Mar. See heere these mouers, that do prize their hours/> At a crack'd Drachme: Cushions, Leaden Spoones, Irons of a Doit, Dublets that Hangmen would Bury with those that wore them. These base slaues,
[545]
Ere yet the fight be done, packe vp, downe with them. And harke, what noyse the Generall makes: To him There is the man of my soules hate, Auffidious, Piercing our Romanes: Then Valiant Titus take Conuenient Numbers to make good the City,
[550]
Whil'st I with those that haue the spirit, wil haste To helpe Cominius
Lar. Worthy Sir, thou bleed'st, Thy exercise hath bin too violent, For a second course of Fight. Mar.
[555]
Sir, praise me not: My worke hath yet not warm'd me. Fare you well: The blood I drop, is rather Physicall Then dangerous to me: To Auffidious thus, I will appear (and fight.
Lar. Now the faire Goddesse Fortune,
[560]
Fall deepe in loue with thee, and her great charmes Misguide thy Opposers swords, Bold Gentleman: Prosperity be thy Page.
Mar. Thy Friend no lesse, Then those she placeth highest: So farewell. Lar.
[565]
Thou worthiest Martius, Go sound thy Trumpet in the Market place, Call thither all the Officers a'th'Towne, Where they shall know our minde. Away.
Exeunt.
[Act 1, Scene 6] Enter Cominius as it were in retire, with soldiers. Com. Breath you my friends, wel fought, we are come (off,
[570]
Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, Nor Cowardly in retyre: Beleeue me Sirs, We shall be charg'd againe. Whiles we haue strooke By Interims and conueying gusts, we haue heard The Charges of our Friends. The Roman Gods,
[575]
Leade their successes, as we wish our owne, That both our powers, with smiling Fronts encountring, May giue you thankfull Sacrifice. Thy Newes?
Enter a Messenger. Mess. The Cittizens of Corioles haue yssued, And giuen to Lartius and to Martius Battaile: aa3 I saw

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[Act 1, Scene 5] Enter certaine Romanes with spoiles. 1. Rom.

This will I carry to Rome.

2. Rom.

And I this.

3. Rom.
[540]

A Murrain on't, I tooke this for Siluer.

exeunt. Alarum continues still a‑farre off. Enter Martius, and Titus with a Trumpet. Mar. See heere these mouers, that do prize their hours/> At a crack'd Drachme: Cushions, Leaden Spoones, Irons of a Doit, Dublets that Hangmen would Bury with those that wore them. These base slaues,
[545]
Ere yet the fight be done, packe vp, downe with them. And harke, what noyse the Generall makes: To him There is the man of my soules hate, Auffidious, Piercing our Romanes: Then Valiant Titus take Conuenient Numbers to make good the City,
[550]
Whil'st I with those that haue the spirit, wil haste To helpe Cominius
Lar. Worthy Sir, thou bleed'st, Thy exercise hath bin too violent, For a second course of Fight. Mar.
[555]
Sir, praise me not: My worke hath yet not warm'd me. Fare you well: The blood I drop, is rather Physicall Then dangerous to me: To Auffidious thus, I will appear (and fight.
Lar. Now the faire Goddesse Fortune,
[560]
Fall deepe in loue with thee, and her great charmes Misguide thy Opposers swords, Bold Gentleman: Prosperity be thy Page.
Mar. Thy Friend no lesse, Then those she placeth highest: So farewell. Lar.
[565]
Thou worthiest Martius, Go sound thy Trumpet in the Market place, Call thither all the Officers a'th'Towne, Where they shall know our minde. Away.
Exeunt.
 

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<div type="scene" n="5" rend="notPresent">
   <head type="supplied">[Act 1, Scene 5]</head>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter certaine Romanes with spoiles.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cor-rom.1">
      <speaker rend="italic">1. Rom.</speaker>
      <p n="538">This will I carry to<hi rend="italic">Rome</hi>.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-rom.2">
      <speaker rend="italic">2. Rom.</speaker>
      <p n="539">And I this.</p>
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   <sp who="#F-cor-rom.3">
      <speaker rend="italic">3. Rom.</speaker>
      <p n="540">A Murrain on't, I tooke this for Siluer.</p>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic inline" type="exit">exeunt.</stage>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="business">Alarum continues still a‑farre off.</stage>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Martius, and Titus with a Trumpet.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-cor-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mar.</speaker>
      <l n="541">See heere these mouers, that do prize their hours/&gt;</l>
      <l n="542">At a crack'd Drachme: Cushions, Leaden Spoones,</l>
      <l n="543">Irons of a Doit, Dublets that Hangmen would</l>
      <l n="544">Bury with those that wore them. These base slaues,</l>
      <l n="545">Ere yet the fight be done, packe vp, downe with them.</l>
      <l n="546">And harke, what noyse the Generall makes: To him</l>
      <l n="547">There is the man of my soules hate,<hi rend="italic">Auffidious</hi>,</l>
      <l n="548">Piercing our Romanes: Then Valiant<hi rend="italic">Titus</hi>take</l>
      <l n="549">Conuenient Numbers to make good the City,</l>
      <l n="550">Whil'st I with those that haue the spirit, wil haste</l>
      <l n="551">To helpe<hi rend="italic">Cominius</hi>
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   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-lar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Lar.</speaker>
      <l n="552">Worthy Sir, thou bleed'st,</l>
      <l n="553">Thy exercise hath bin too violent,</l>
      <l n="554">For a second course of Fight.</l>
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   <sp who="#F-cor-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mar.</speaker>
      <l n="555">Sir, praise me not:</l>
      <l n="556">My worke hath yet not warm'd me. Fare you well:</l>
      <l n="557">The blood I drop, is rather Physicall</l>
      <l n="558">Then dangerous to me: To<hi rend="italic">Auffidious</hi>thus, I will appear
      <lb rend="turnunder"/>
         <pc rend="turnunder">(</pc>and fight.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-lar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Lar.</speaker>
      <l n="559">Now the faire Goddesse Fortune,</l>
      <l n="560">Fall deepe in loue with thee, and her great charmes</l>
      <l n="561">Misguide thy Opposers swords, Bold Gentleman:</l>
      <l n="562">Prosperity be thy Page.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mar.</speaker>
      <l n="563">Thy Friend no lesse,</l>
      <l n="564">Then those she placeth highest: So farewell.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-cor-lar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Lar.</speaker>
      <l n="565">Thou worthiest<hi rend="italic">Martius</hi>,</l>
      <l n="566">Go sound thy Trumpet in the Market place,</l>
      <l n="567">Call thither all the Officers a'th'Towne,</l>
      <l n="568">Where they shall know our minde. Away.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic inline" type="exit">Exeunt.</stage>
</div>

                                
                            

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