First Rom.
This will I carry to Rome.

Sec. Rom.
And I this.

Third Rom. ^note
A murrain on't! I took this for silver. [Alarum continues still afar off. Enter Marcius and Titus Lartius ^note with a trumpet.

Mar.
See here these movers that do prize their hours ^note
At a crack'd drachma ^note! Cushions, leaden spoons,
Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would
Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves,
Ere yet the fight be done, pack up: down with them!
And hark, what noise the general makes! To him! ^note

There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius,
Piercing our Romans: then, valiant Titus, take
Convenient numbers to make good the city;
Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste ^note
To help Cominius.

Lart.
Worthy sir, thou bleed'st;
Thy exercise hath been too violent
For a ^note second course of fight.

Mar.
Sir, praise me not;
My work hath yet not warm'd me: fare you well:
The blood I drop is rather physical
Than dangerous to me ^note: to Aufidius thus
I will appear ^note, and fight ^note.

Lart.
Now the fair goddess, Fortune,
Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms
Misguide thy ^note opposers' swords! Bold gentleman,
Prosperity be thy page!

Mar.
Thy friend no less
Than those ^note she placeth highest! So farewell.

Lart.
Thou worthiest Marcius! ^note [Exit Marcius. ^{note note}
Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place;
Call thither all the officers o' the ^note town,
Where they shall know our mind. Away! [Exeunt.

^note

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