Page 2804 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

MARTIUS

I have some wounds upon me, and they smart
To hear themselves remembered.

COMINIUS
Should they not,
Well might they fester ’gainst ingratitude [30]

And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses −
Whereof we have ta’en good and good store − of all
The treasure in this field achieved and city,
We render you the tenth, to be ta’en forth

Before the common distribution at [35]
Your only choice.

MARTIUS
I thank you, general,
But cannot make my heart consent to take

A bribe to pay my sword. I do refuse it,
And stand upon my common part with those
That have beheld the doing. [40]

A long flourish. They all cry ‘Martius! Martius!’, cast up their caps and
lances. Cominius and Lartius stand bare.

MARTIUS

May these same instruments which you profane
Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall
I’th’field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be
Made all of false-faced soothing. When steel grows
Soft as the parasite’s silk, let him be made [45]

An overture for th’wars. No more, I say.
For that I have not washed my nose that bled,
Or foiled some debile wretch, which without note

Here’s many else have done, you shout me forth
In acclamations hyperbolical, [50]
As if I loved my little should be dieted
In praises sauced with lies.