A field of battle.
(Martius; Aufidius; Volscian Soldiers)
Martius and Aufidius fight, but to no decisive issue. (19 lines)
Alarum as in battle. Enter Martius and Aufidius at several doors.
I’ll fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee
Worse than a promise-breaker.
We hate alike:
Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor
More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot.
Let the first budger die the other’s slave,
And the gods doom him after!
If I fly, Martius,
Hollow me like a hare.
Within these three hours, Tullus,
Alone I fought in your Corioles walls,
And made what work I pleas’d. ’Tis not my blood
Wherein thou seest me mask’d; for thy revenge
Wrench up thy power to th’ highest.
Wert thou the Hector
That was the whip of your bragg’d progeny
Thou shouldst not scape me here.
Here they fight, and certain Volscian Soldiers come in the aid of Aufidius. Martius fights till they be driven in breathless.
Officious, and not valiant, you have sham’d me
In your condemned seconds.