chosenone80/shak_test · Datasets at Hugging Face

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Lead their successes as we wish our own, That both our powers, with smiling fronts encountering, May give you thankful sacrifice.
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 an hour, my lord.
COMINIUS: 'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums: How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour, And bring thy news so late?
Messenger: Spies of the Volsces Held me in chase, that I was forced to wheel Three or four miles about, else had I, sir, Half an hour since brought my report.
COMINIUS: Who's yonder, That does appear as he were flay'd?
O gods He has the stamp of Marcius; and I have Before-time seen him thus.
MARCIUS: COMINIUS: The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabour More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue From every meaner man.
MARCIUS: Come I too late?
COMINIUS: Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, But mantled in your own.
MARCIUS: O, let me clip ye In arms as sound as when I woo'd, in heart As merry as when our nuptial day was done, And tapers burn'd to bedward!
COMINIUS: Flower of warriors, How is it with Titus Lartius?
MARCIUS: As with a man busied about decrees: Condemning some to death, and some to exile; Ransoming him, or pitying, threatening the other; Holding Corioli in the name of Rome, Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, To let him slip at will.
COMINIUS: Where is that slave Which told me they had beat you to your trenches?
Where is he?
call him hither.
MARCIUS: Let him alone; He did inform the truth: but for our gentlemen, The common file--a plague!
tribunes for them!-- The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat as they did budge From rascals worse than they.
COMINIUS: But how prevail'd you?
MARCIUS: Will the time serve to tell?
I do not think.
Where is the enemy?
are you lords o' the field?
If not, why cease you till you are so?
COMINIUS: Marcius, We have at disadvantage fought and did Retire to win our purpose.
MARCIUS: How lies their battle?
know you on which side They have placed their men of trust?
COMINIUS: As I guess, Marcius, Their bands i' the vaward are the Antiates, Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius, Their very heart of hope.
MARCIUS: I do beseech you, By all the battles wherein we have fought, By the blood we have shed together, by the vows We have made to endure friends, that you directly Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates; And that you not delay the present, but, Filling the air with swords advanced and darts, We prove this very hour.
COMINIUS: Though I could wish You were conducted to a gentle bath And balms applied to, you, yet dare I never Deny your asking: take your choice of those That best can aid your action.
MARCIUS: Those are they That most are willing.
If any such be here-- As it were sin to doubt--that love this painting Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear Lesser his person than an ill report; If any think brave death outweighs bad life And that his country's dearer than himself; Let him alone, or so many so minded, Wave thus, to express his disposition, And follow Marcius.
O, me alone!
make you a sword of me?
If these shows be not outward, which of you But is four Volsces?
none of you but is Able to bear against the great Aufidius A shield as hard as his.
A certain number, Though thanks to all, must I select from all: the rest Shall bear the business in some other fight, As cause will be obey'd.
Please you to march; And four shall quickly draw out my command, Which men are best inclined.
COMINIUS: March on, my fellows: Make good this ostentation, and you shall Divide in all with us.
LARTIUS: So, let the ports be guarded: keep your duties, As I have set them down.
If I do send, dispatch Those centuries to our aid: the rest will serve For a short holding: if we lose the field, We cannot keep the town.
Lieutenant: Fear not our care, sir.
LARTIUS: Hence, and shut your gates upon's.
Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct us.
MARCIUS: I'll fight with none but thee; for I do hate thee Worse than a promise-breaker.
AUFIDIUS: We hate alike: Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor More than thy fame and envy.
Fix thy foot.
MARCIUS: Let the first budger die the other's slave, And the gods doom him after!
AUFIDIUS: If I fly, Marcius, Holloa me like a hare.
MARCIUS: Within these three hours, Tullus, Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, And made what work I pleased: 'tis not my blood Wherein thou seest me mask'd; for thy revenge Wrench up thy power to the highest.
AUFIDIUS: Wert thou the Hector That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny, Thou shouldst not scape me here.
Officious, and not valiant, you have shamed me In your condemned seconds.
COMINIUS: If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work, Thou'ldst not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles, Where great patricians shall attend and shrug, I' the end admire, where ladies shall be frighted, And, gladly quaked, hear more; where the dull tribunes, That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours, Shall say against their hearts 'We thank the gods Our Rome hath such a soldier.'
Yet camest thou to a morsel of this feast, Having fully dined before.
LARTIUS: O general, Here is the steed, we the caparison: Hadst thou beheld-- MARCIUS: Pray now, no more: my mother, Who has a charter to extol her blood, When she does praise me grieves me.
I have done As you have done; that's what I can; induced As you have been; that's for my country: He that has but effected his good will Hath overta'en mine act.
COMINIUS: You shall not be The grave of your deserving; Rome must know The value of her own: 'twere a concealment Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement, To hide your doings; and to silence that, Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd, Would seem but modest: therefore, I beseech you In sign of what you are, not to reward What you have done--before our army hear me.
MARCIUS: I have some wounds upon me, and they smart To hear themselves remember'd.
COMINIUS: Should they not, Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude, And tent themselves with death.
Of all the horses, Whereof we have ta'en good and good store, of all The treasure in this field achieved and city, We render you the tenth, to be ta'en forth, Before the common distribution, at Your only choice.
MARCIUS: I thank you, general; But cannot make my heart consent to take A bribe to pay my sword: I do refuse it; And stand upon my common part with those That have beheld the doing.
MARCIUS: May these same instruments, which you profane, Never sound more!
when drums and trumpets shall I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be Made all of false-faced soothing!
When steel grows soft as the parasite's silk, Let him be made a coverture for the wars!
No more, I say!
For that I have not wash'd My nose that bled, or foil'd some debile wretch.-- Which, without note, here's many else have done,-- You shout me forth In acclamations hyperbolical; As if I loved my little should be dieted In praises sauced with lies.
COMINIUS: Too modest are you; More cruel to your good report than grateful To us that give you truly: by your patience, If 'gainst yourself you be incensed, we'll put you, Like one that means his proper harm, in manacles, Then reason safely with you.
Therefore, be it known, As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius Wears this war's garland: in token of the which, My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him, With all his trim belonging; and from this time, For what he did before Corioli, call him, With all the applause and clamour of the host, CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS!
Bear The addition nobly ever!
All: Caius Marcius Coriolanus!
CORIOLANUS: I will go wash; And when my face is fair, you shall perceive Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thank you.
I mean to stride your steed, and at all times To undercrest your good addition To the fairness of my power.
COMINIUS: So, to our tent; Where, ere we do repose us, we will write To Rome of our success.
You, Titus Lartius, Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome The best, with whom we may articulate, For their own good and ours.
LARTIUS: I shall, my lord.
CORIOLANUS: The gods begin to mock me.
I, that now Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg Of my lord general.
COMINIUS: Take't; 'tis yours.
What is't?
CORIOLANUS: I sometime lay here in Corioli At a poor man's house; he used me kindly: He cried to me; I saw him prisoner; But then Aufidius was within my view, And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you To give my poor host freedom.
COMINIUS: O, well begg'd!
Were he the butcher of my son, he should Be free as is the wind.
Deliver him, Titus.
LARTIUS: Marcius, his name?
CORIOLANUS: By Jupiter!
forgot.
I am weary; yea, my memory is tired.
Have we no wine here?
COMINIUS: Go we to our tent: The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time It should be look'd to: come.
AUFIDIUS: The town is ta'en!
First Soldier: 'Twill be deliver'd back on good condition.
AUFIDIUS: 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 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, If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, He's 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, True sword to sword, I'll potch at him some way Or wrath or craft may get him.

Lead their successes as we wish our own, That both our powers, with smiling fronts encountering, May give you thankful sacrifice.

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 an hour, my lord.

COMINIUS: 'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums: How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour, And bring thy news so late?

Messenger: Spies of the Volsces Held me in chase, that I was forced to wheel Three or four miles about, else had I, sir, Half an hour since brought my report.

COMINIUS: Who's yonder, That does appear as he were flay'd?

O gods He has the stamp of Marcius; and I have Before-time seen him thus.

MARCIUS: COMINIUS: The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabour More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue From every meaner man.

MARCIUS: Come I too late?

COMINIUS: Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, But mantled in your own.

MARCIUS: O, let me clip ye In arms as sound as when I woo'd, in heart As merry as when our nuptial day was done, And tapers burn'd to bedward!

COMINIUS: Flower of warriors, How is it with Titus Lartius?

MARCIUS: As with a man busied about decrees: Condemning some to death, and some to exile; Ransoming him, or pitying, threatening the other; Holding Corioli in the name of Rome, Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, To let him slip at will.

COMINIUS: Where is that slave Which told me they had beat you to your trenches?

Where is he?

call him hither.

MARCIUS: Let him alone; He did inform the truth: but for our gentlemen, The common file--a plague!

tribunes for them!-- The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat as they did budge From rascals worse than they.

COMINIUS: But how prevail'd you?

MARCIUS: Will the time serve to tell?

I do not think.

Where is the enemy?

are you lords o' the field?

If not, why cease you till you are so?

COMINIUS: Marcius, We have at disadvantage fought and did Retire to win our purpose.

MARCIUS: How lies their battle?

know you on which side They have placed their men of trust?

COMINIUS: As I guess, Marcius, Their bands i' the vaward are the Antiates, Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius, Their very heart of hope.

MARCIUS: I do beseech you, By all the battles wherein we have fought, By the blood we have shed together, by the vows We have made to endure friends, that you directly Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates; And that you not delay the present, but, Filling the air with swords advanced and darts, We prove this very hour.

COMINIUS: Though I could wish You were conducted to a gentle bath And balms applied to, you, yet dare I never Deny your asking: take your choice of those That best can aid your action.

MARCIUS: Those are they That most are willing.

If any such be here-- As it were sin to doubt--that love this painting Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear Lesser his person than an ill report; If any think brave death outweighs bad life And that his country's dearer than himself; Let him alone, or so many so minded, Wave thus, to express his disposition, And follow Marcius.

O, me alone!

make you a sword of me?

If these shows be not outward, which of you But is four Volsces?

none of you but is Able to bear against the great Aufidius A shield as hard as his.

A certain number, Though thanks to all, must I select from all: the rest Shall bear the business in some other fight, As cause will be obey'd.

Please you to march; And four shall quickly draw out my command, Which men are best inclined.

COMINIUS: March on, my fellows: Make good this ostentation, and you shall Divide in all with us.

LARTIUS: So, let the ports be guarded: keep your duties, As I have set them down.

If I do send, dispatch Those centuries to our aid: the rest will serve For a short holding: if we lose the field, We cannot keep the town.

Lieutenant: Fear not our care, sir.

LARTIUS: Hence, and shut your gates upon's.

Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct us.

MARCIUS: I'll fight with none but thee; for I do hate thee Worse than a promise-breaker.

AUFIDIUS: We hate alike: Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor More than thy fame and envy.

Fix thy foot.

MARCIUS: Let the first budger die the other's slave, And the gods doom him after!

AUFIDIUS: If I fly, Marcius, Holloa me like a hare.

MARCIUS: Within these three hours, Tullus, Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, And made what work I pleased: 'tis not my blood Wherein thou seest me mask'd; for thy revenge Wrench up thy power to the highest.

AUFIDIUS: Wert thou the Hector That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny, Thou shouldst not scape me here.

Officious, and not valiant, you have shamed me In your condemned seconds.

COMINIUS: If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work, Thou'ldst not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles, Where great patricians shall attend and shrug, I' the end admire, where ladies shall be frighted, And, gladly quaked, hear more; where the dull tribunes, That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours, Shall say against their hearts 'We thank the gods Our Rome hath such a soldier.'

Yet camest thou to a morsel of this feast, Having fully dined before.

LARTIUS: O general, Here is the steed, we the caparison: Hadst thou beheld-- MARCIUS: Pray now, no more: my mother, Who has a charter to extol her blood, When she does praise me grieves me.

I have done As you have done; that's what I can; induced As you have been; that's for my country: He that has but effected his good will Hath overta'en mine act.

COMINIUS: You shall not be The grave of your deserving; Rome must know The value of her own: 'twere a concealment Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement, To hide your doings; and to silence that, Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd, Would seem but modest: therefore, I beseech you In sign of what you are, not to reward What you have done--before our army hear me.

MARCIUS: I have some wounds upon me, and they smart To hear themselves remember'd.

COMINIUS: Should they not, Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude, And tent themselves with death.

Of all the horses, Whereof we have ta'en good and good store, of all The treasure in this field achieved and city, We render you the tenth, to be ta'en forth, Before the common distribution, at Your only choice.

MARCIUS: I thank you, general; But cannot make my heart consent to take A bribe to pay my sword: I do refuse it; And stand upon my common part with those That have beheld the doing.

MARCIUS: May these same instruments, which you profane, Never sound more!

when drums and trumpets shall I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be Made all of false-faced soothing!

When steel grows soft as the parasite's silk, Let him be made a coverture for the wars!

No more, I say!

For that I have not wash'd My nose that bled, or foil'd some debile wretch.-- Which, without note, here's many else have done,-- You shout me forth In acclamations hyperbolical; As if I loved my little should be dieted In praises sauced with lies.

COMINIUS: Too modest are you; More cruel to your good report than grateful To us that give you truly: by your patience, If 'gainst yourself you be incensed, we'll put you, Like one that means his proper harm, in manacles, Then reason safely with you.

Therefore, be it known, As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius Wears this war's garland: in token of the which, My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him, With all his trim belonging; and from this time, For what he did before Corioli, call him, With all the applause and clamour of the host, CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS!

Bear The addition nobly ever!

All: Caius Marcius Coriolanus!

CORIOLANUS: I will go wash; And when my face is fair, you shall perceive Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thank you.

I mean to stride your steed, and at all times To undercrest your good addition To the fairness of my power.

COMINIUS: So, to our tent; Where, ere we do repose us, we will write To Rome of our success.

You, Titus Lartius, Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome The best, with whom we may articulate, For their own good and ours.

LARTIUS: I shall, my lord.

CORIOLANUS: The gods begin to mock me.

I, that now Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg Of my lord general.

COMINIUS: Take't; 'tis yours.

What is't?

CORIOLANUS: I sometime lay here in Corioli At a poor man's house; he used me kindly: He cried to me; I saw him prisoner; But then Aufidius was within my view, And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you To give my poor host freedom.

COMINIUS: O, well begg'd!

Were he the butcher of my son, he should Be free as is the wind.

Deliver him, Titus.

LARTIUS: Marcius, his name?

CORIOLANUS: By Jupiter!

forgot.

I am weary; yea, my memory is tired.

Have we no wine here?

COMINIUS: Go we to our tent: The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time It should be look'd to: come.

AUFIDIUS: The town is ta'en!

First Soldier: 'Twill be deliver'd back on good condition.

AUFIDIUS: 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 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, If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, He's 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, True sword to sword, I'll potch at him some way Or wrath or craft may get him.