Mess. The Cittizens of Corioles haue yssued,
And giuen to Lartius and to Martius Battaile:
I saw our party to their Trenches driuen,
And then I came away
Com. Though thou speakest truth,
Me thinkes thou speak'st not well. How long is't since?
Mes. Aboue an houre, my Lord
Com. 'Tis not a mile: briefely we heard their drummes.
How could'st thou in a mile confound an houre,
And bring thy Newes so late?
Mes. Spies of the Volces
Held me in chace, that I was forc'd to wheele
Three or foure miles about, else had I sir
Halfe an houre since brought my report.
Enter Martius.
Com. Whose yonder,
That doe's appeare as he were Flead? O Gods,
He has the stampe of Martius, and I haue
Before time seene him thus
Mar. Come I too late?
Com. The Shepherd knowes not Thunder fro[m] a Taber,
More then I know the sound of Martius Tongue
From euery meaner man
Martius. Come I too late?
Com. I, if you come not in the blood of others,
But mantled in your owne
Mart. Oh! let me clip ye
In Armes as sound, as when I woo'd in heart;
As merry, as when our Nuptiall day was done,
And Tapers burnt to Bedward
Com. Flower of Warriors, how is't with Titus Lartius?
Mar. As with a man busied about Decrees:
Condemning some to death, and some to exile,
Ransoming him, or pittying, threatning th' other;
Holding Corioles in the name of Rome,
Euen like a fawning Grey-hound in the Leash,
To let him slip at will
Com. Where is that Slaue
Which told me they had beate you to your Trenches?
Where is he? Call him hither
Mar. Let him alone,
He did informe the truth: but for our Gentlemen,
The common file, (a plague-Tribunes for them)
The Mouse ne're shunn'd the Cat, as they did budge
From Rascals worse then they