Page:Coriolanus (1924) Yale.djvu/45

The Tragedy of Coriolanus, I. x

If e'er again I meet him beard to beard,

He is mine, or I am his: mine emulation

Hath not that honour in 't it had; for where

I thought to crush him in an equal force—

True sword to sword—I'll potch at him some way

Or wrath or craft may get him.

Sol. He's the devil.

Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour's poison'd

With only suffering stain by him; for him

Shall fly out of itself. Nor sleep nor sanctuary,

Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol,

The prayers of priests, nor times of sacrifice,

Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up

Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst

My hate to Martius. Where I find him, were it

At home, upon my brother's guard, even there

Against the hospitable canon, would I

Wash my fierce hand in 's heart. Go you to the city;

Learn how 'tis held, and what they are that must

Be hostages for Rome.

Sol. Will not you go?

Auf. I am attended at the cypress grove: I pray you—

'Tis south the city mills—bring me word thither

How the world goes, that to the pace of it

I may spur on my journey.

Sol. I shall, sir.

 15 potch: poke, thrust heedlessly

16 Or wrath: in which either wrath

22 Embarquements: embargoes, restraints

26 hospitable canon: law of hospitality

30 attended: awaited 