Page 2938 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3
P. 2938
His own impatience
Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.
Let’s make the best of it.
AUFIDIUS
My rage is gone,
And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up.
Help three o’th’chiefest soldiers; I’ll be one. [150]
Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully.
Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he
Hath widowed and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail the injury,
Yet he shall have a noble memory. [155]
Assist.
Exeunt, bearing the body of Martius.
A dead march sounded.
