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A field of battle.
Alarum as in battle. Enter, from opposite sides, MARCIUS and AUFIDIUS.

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, Marcius,

Holloa me like a hare.

Within these three hours, Tullus,

Alone I fought in your Corioli walls,

And made what work I pleased: 'tis not my blood

Wherein thou seest me mask'd; for thy revenge

Wrench up thy power to the highest. (11)

Wert thou the Hector

That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny,

Thou shouldst not scape me here. They fight and certain Volsces come in the aid of Aufidius. Marcius fights till they be driven in breathless.

Officious, and not valiant, you have shamed me

In your condemned seconds. Exeunt.

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load focus Notes (Horace Howard Furness, Jr., A. B.; Litt. D.)
load focus Notes (Horace Howard Furness, Jr., A. B.; Litt. D.)
load focus English (Horace Howard Furness, Jr., A. B.; Litt. D.)
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