A flouriſh. Cornets. Enter Tullus Auffidius
bloudie, with two or three Souldiors.
The Towne is ta'ne.
'Twill be deliuer'd backe on good Condition.
I would I were a Roman, for I cannot,
Being a Volce, be that I am. Condition?
What good Condition can a Treatie finde
I'th'part that is at mercy? fiue times, Martius,
I haue fought with thee; ſo often haſt thou beat me:
And would'ſt doe ſo, I thinke, ſhould we encounter
As often as we eate. By th'Elements,
If ere againe I meet him beard to beard,
He's mine, or I am his: Mine Emulation
Hath not that Honor in't it had: For where
I thought to cruſh him in an equall Force,
True Sword to Sword: Ile potche at him ſome way,
Or Wrath, or Craft may get him.
He's the diuell.
Bolder, though not ſo ſubtle: my valors poiſon'd,
With onely ſuff'ring ſtaine by him: for him
Shall flye out of it ſelfe, nor ſleepe, nor ſanctuary,
Being naked, ſicke; nor Phane, nor Capitoll,
The Prayers of Prieſts, nor times of Sacrifice:
Embarquements all of Fury, ſhall lift vp
Their rotten Priuiledge, and Cuſtome 'gainſt
My hate to Martius. Where I finde him, were it
At home, vpon my Brothers Guard, euen there
Againſt the hoſpitable Canon, would I
Waſh my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to th'Citie,
Learne how 'tis held, and what they are that muſt
Be Hoſtages for Rome.
Will not you go?
I am attended at the Cyprus groue. I pray you
('Tis South the City Mils) bring me word thither
How the world goes: that to the pace of it
I may ſpurre on my iourney.
I ſhall ſir.