Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd 32
Further than seen, and one infect another
Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese,
That bear the shapes of men, how have you run
From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell! 36
All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale
With flight and agu'd fear! Mend and charge home,
Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe
And make my wars on you; look to 't: come on; 40
If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives,
As they us to our trenches follows.
Another alarum, and Martius follows them to gates, and is shut in.
So, now the gates are ope: now prove good seconds:
'Tis for the followers Fortune widens them, 44
Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like.
1. Sol. Foolhardiness! not I.
2. Sol. Nor I.
1. Sol. See, they have shut him in.
All. To the pot, I warrant him.
Enter Titus Lartius.
Lart. What is become of Martius?
All. Slain, sir, doubtless. 48
1. Sol. Following the fliers at the very heels,
With them he enters; who, upon the sudden,
Clapp'd-to their gates; he is himself alone,
To answer all the city.
Lart. O noble fellow! 52
34 Against . . . mile; cf. n.
38 Mend: reform
42 follows; cf. n.
43 seconds: assistants
47 pot: cooking-pot; i.e, destruction
51 himself alone: quite alone
52 answer: withstand
