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.
MARTIUS.
How far off lie these armies?
MESSENGER.
Within this mile and half.
MARTIUS.
Then shall we hear their ’larum, and they ours.
Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work,
That we with smoking swords may march from hence
To help our fielded friends!—Come, blow thy blast.
[They sound a parley.]
Enter two Senators with others on the walls of Corioles.
Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls?