William Shakespeare, Coriolanus
W. G. Clark, W. Aldis Wright, Ed.

SCENE X

Auf.
The town is ta'en!

First Sol.
'Twill be deliver'd back on good condition.

Auf.
Condition!

I would I were a Roman; for I cannot,

Being a Volsce, be that I am. Condition!

What good condition can a treaty find

I' the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius,

I have fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me,

And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter (10)

As often as we eat. By the elements,

If e'er again I meet him beard to beard,

He's mine, or I am his: mine emulation

Hath not that honour in't it had; for where

I thought to crush him in an equal force,

True sword to sword, I'll potch at him some way

Or wrath or craft may get him.

First Sol.
He's the devil.

Auf.
Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour's poison'd

With only suffering stain by him; for him

Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep nor sanctuary, (20)

Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol,

The prayers of priests nor time of sacrifice,

Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up

Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst

My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it

At home, upon my brother's guard, even there,

Against the hospitable canon, would I

Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to the city;

Learn how 'tis held; and what they are that must

Be hostages for Rome.

First Sol.
Will not you go? (30)

Auf.
I am attended at the cypress grove: I pray you—

'Tis south the city mills—bring me word thither

How the world goes, that to the pace of it

I may spur on my journey.

First Sol.
I shall, sir. Exeunt.