Enter Martius, Titus Lartius, with drum and colours, with Captains and Soldiers, as before the city of Corioles. To them a Messenger.
MARTIUS.
Yonder comes news. A wager they have met.
LARTIUS.
My horse to yours, no.
MARTIUS.
’Tis done.
LARTIUS.
Agreed.
MARTIUS.
[To Messenger.] Say, has our general met the enemy?
MESSENGER.
They lie in view but have not spoke as yet.
LARTIUS.
So the good horse is mine.
MARTIUS.
I’ll buy him of you.
LARTIUS.
No, I’ll nor sell nor give him. Lend you him I will
For half a hundred years.—Summon the town.