[Alarum continues.]
ALL.
To th’ pot, I warrant him.
Enter Titus Lartius.
LARTIUS.
What is become of Martius?
ALL.
Slain, sir, doubtless.
FIRST SOLDIER.
Following the fliers at the very heels,
With them he enters, who upon the sudden
Clapped to their gates. He is himself alone,
To answer all the city.
LARTIUS.
O noble fellow,
Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword,
And when it bows, stand’st up! Thou art left, Martius.
A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art,
Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier
Even to Cato’s wish, not fierce and terrible
Only in strokes, but with thy grim looks and
The thunderlike percussion of thy sounds
Thou mad’st thine enemies shake, as if the world
Were feverous and did tremble.
Enter Martius, bleeding, assaulted by the enemy.
FIRST SOLDIER.
Look, sir.
LARTIUS.
O, ’tis Martius!
Let’s fetch him off or make remain alike.