Vir. Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you
in every thing hereafter. 100
Vol. Let her alone, lady; as she is now, she will but[2623][2624]
disease our better mirth.[2623]
Val. In troth, I think she would. Fare you well,[2623]
then. Come, good sweet lady. Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy[2623]
solemness out o' door, and go along with us.[2623][2625] 105
Vir. No, at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I[2623]
wish you much mirth.[2623]
Val. Well then, farewell. [Exeunt.[2626]
Scene IV. Before Corioli.
Enter, with drum and colours, Marcius, Titus Lartius, Captains and Soldiers. To them a Messenger.[2627]
Mar. Yonder comes news: a wager they have met.[2628]
Lart. My horse to yours, no.[2629]
Mar. 'Tis done.