Val. In troth, I think she would. Fare you
well then. Come, good sweet lady. Prithee,
Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o' door, and go 120
along with us.
Vir. No, at a word, madam; indeed I must
not. I wish you much mirth.
Val. Well then, farewell. Exeunt Ladies.
Scene Four
[Before Corioli]
Mar. Yonder comes news: a wager they have met.
Lart. My horse to yours, no.
Mar. 'Tis done.
Lart. Agreed.
Mar. Say, has our general met the enemy?
Mess. They lie in view, but have not spoke as yet. 4
Lart. So the good horse is mine.
Mar. I'll buy him of you.
Lart. No, I'll nor sell nor give him; lend you him I will
For half a hundred years. Summon the town.
Mar. How far off lie these armies?
Mess. Within this mile and half. 8
Mar. Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they ours.
Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work,
That we with smoking swords may march from hence,
To help our fielded friends! Come, blow thy blast. 12
120 turn . . . door: banish gravity
122 at a word: positively
4 spoke: euphemism for 'fought'
12 fielded: engaged on the battlefield
