chosenone80/shak_test · Datasets at Hugging Face

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VALERIA: Not out of doors!
VOLUMNIA: She shall, she shall.
VIRGILIA: Indeed, no, by your patience; I'll not over the threshold till my lord return from the wars.
VALERIA: Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably: come, you must go visit the good lady that lies in.
VIRGILIA: I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with my prayers; but I cannot go thither.
VOLUMNIA: Why, I pray you?
VIRGILIA: 'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love.
VALERIA: You would be another Penelope: yet, they say, all the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence did but fill Ithaca full of moths.
Come; I would your cambric were sensible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity.
Come, you shall go with us.
VIRGILIA: No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth.
VALERIA: In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you excellent news of your husband.
VIRGILIA: O, good madam, there can be none yet.
VALERIA: Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from him last night.
VIRGILIA: Indeed, madam?
VALERIA: In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it.
Thus it is: the Volsces have an army forth; against whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of our Roman power: your lord and Titus Lartius are set down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt prevailing and to make it brief wars.
This is true, on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us.
VIRGILIA: Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every thing hereafter.
VOLUMNIA: Let her alone, lady: as she is now, she will but disease our better mirth.
VALERIA: In troth, I think she would.
Fare you well, then.
Come, good sweet lady.
Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o' door.
and go along with us.
VIRGILIA: No, at a word, madam; indeed, I must not.
I wish you much mirth.
VALERIA: Well, then, farewell.
MARCIUS: Yonder comes news.
A wager they have met.
LARTIUS: My horse to yours, no.
MARCIUS: 'Tis done.
LARTIUS: Agreed.
MARCIUS: Say, has our general met the enemy?
Messenger: They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet.
LARTIUS: So, the good horse is mine.
MARCIUS: I'll buy him of you.
LARTIUS: No, I'll nor sell nor give him: lend you him I will For half a hundred years.
Summon the town.
MARCIUS: How far off lie these armies?
Messenger: Within this mile and half.
MARCIUS: Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they ours.
Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work, That we with smoking swords may march from hence, To help our fielded friends!
Come, blow thy blast.
Tutus Aufidius, is he within your walls?
First Senator: No, nor a man that fears you less than he, That's lesser than a little.
Hark!
our drums Are bringing forth our youth.
We'll break our walls, Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates, Which yet seem shut, we, have but pinn'd with rushes; They'll open of themselves.
Hark you.
far off!
There is Aufidius; list, what work he makes Amongst your cloven army.
MARCIUS: O, they are at it!
LARTIUS: Their noise be our instruction.
Ladders, ho!
MARCIUS: They fear us not, but issue forth their city.
Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proof than shields.
Advance, brave Titus: They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, Which makes me sweat with wrath.
Come on, my fellows: He that retires I'll take him for a Volsce, And he shall feel mine edge.
MARCIUS: All the contagion of the south light on you, You shames of Rome!
you herd of--Boils and plagues Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd 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!
All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale With flight and agued 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; If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives, As they us to our trenches followed.
So, now the gates are ope: now prove good seconds: 'Tis for the followers fortune widens them, Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like.
First Soldier: Fool-hardiness; not I.
Second Soldier: Nor I.
First Soldier: See, they have shut him in.
All: To the pot, I warrant him.
LARTIUS: What is become of Marcius?
All: Slain, sir, doubtless.
First Soldier: 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.
LARTIUS: O noble fellow!
Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword, And, when it bows, stands up.
Thou art left, Marcius: A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art, Were not so rich a jewel.
Thou wast a soldier Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks and The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds, Thou madst thine enemies shake, as if the world Were feverous and did tremble.
First Soldier: Look, sir.
LARTIUS: O,'tis Marcius!
Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike.
First Roman: This will I carry to Rome.
Second Roman: And I this.
Third Roman: A murrain on't!
I took this for silver.
MARCIUS: See here these movers that do prize their hours At a crack'd drachm!
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!
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 To help Cominius.
LARTIUS: Worthy sir, thou bleed'st; Thy exercise hath been too violent for A second course of fight.
MARCIUS: 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: to Aufidius thus I will appear, and fight.
LARTIUS: Now the fair goddess, Fortune, Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms Misguide thy opposers' swords!
Bold gentleman, Prosperity be thy page!
MARCIUS: Thy friend no less Than those she placeth highest!
So, farewell.
LARTIUS: Thou worthiest Marcius!
Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place; Call thither all the officers o' the town, Where they shall know our mind: away!
COMINIUS: Breathe you, my friends: well fought; we are come off Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, sirs, We shall be charged again.
Whiles we have struck, By interims and conveying gusts we have heard The charges of our friends.
Ye Roman gods!

VALERIA: Not out of doors!

VOLUMNIA: She shall, she shall.

VIRGILIA: Indeed, no, by your patience; I'll not over the threshold till my lord return from the wars.

VALERIA: Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably: come, you must go visit the good lady that lies in.

VIRGILIA: I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with my prayers; but I cannot go thither.

VOLUMNIA: Why, I pray you?

VIRGILIA: 'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love.

VALERIA: You would be another Penelope: yet, they say, all the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence did but fill Ithaca full of moths.

Come; I would your cambric were sensible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity.

Come, you shall go with us.

VIRGILIA: No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth.

VALERIA: In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you excellent news of your husband.

VIRGILIA: O, good madam, there can be none yet.

VALERIA: Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from him last night.

VIRGILIA: Indeed, madam?

VALERIA: In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it.

Thus it is: the Volsces have an army forth; against whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of our Roman power: your lord and Titus Lartius are set down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt prevailing and to make it brief wars.

This is true, on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us.

VIRGILIA: Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every thing hereafter.

VOLUMNIA: Let her alone, lady: as she is now, she will but disease our better mirth.

VALERIA: In troth, I think she would.

Fare you well, then.

Come, good sweet lady.

Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o' door.

and go along with us.

VIRGILIA: No, at a word, madam; indeed, I must not.

I wish you much mirth.

VALERIA: Well, then, farewell.

MARCIUS: Yonder comes news.

A wager they have met.

LARTIUS: My horse to yours, no.

MARCIUS: 'Tis done.

LARTIUS: Agreed.

MARCIUS: Say, has our general met the enemy?

Messenger: They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet.

LARTIUS: So, the good horse is mine.

MARCIUS: I'll buy him of you.

LARTIUS: No, I'll nor sell nor give him: lend you him I will For half a hundred years.

Summon the town.

MARCIUS: How far off lie these armies?

Messenger: Within this mile and half.

MARCIUS: Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they ours.

Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work, That we with smoking swords may march from hence, To help our fielded friends!

Come, blow thy blast.

Tutus Aufidius, is he within your walls?

First Senator: No, nor a man that fears you less than he, That's lesser than a little.

Hark!

our drums Are bringing forth our youth.

We'll break our walls, Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates, Which yet seem shut, we, have but pinn'd with rushes; They'll open of themselves.

Hark you.

far off!

There is Aufidius; list, what work he makes Amongst your cloven army.

MARCIUS: O, they are at it!

LARTIUS: Their noise be our instruction.

Ladders, ho!

MARCIUS: They fear us not, but issue forth their city.

Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proof than shields.

Advance, brave Titus: They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, Which makes me sweat with wrath.

Come on, my fellows: He that retires I'll take him for a Volsce, And he shall feel mine edge.

MARCIUS: All the contagion of the south light on you, You shames of Rome!

you herd of--Boils and plagues Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd 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!

All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale With flight and agued 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; If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives, As they us to our trenches followed.

So, now the gates are ope: now prove good seconds: 'Tis for the followers fortune widens them, Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like.

First Soldier: Fool-hardiness; not I.

Second Soldier: Nor I.

First Soldier: See, they have shut him in.

All: To the pot, I warrant him.

LARTIUS: What is become of Marcius?

All: Slain, sir, doubtless.

First Soldier: 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.

LARTIUS: O noble fellow!

Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword, And, when it bows, stands up.

Thou art left, Marcius: A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art, Were not so rich a jewel.

Thou wast a soldier Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks and The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds, Thou madst thine enemies shake, as if the world Were feverous and did tremble.

First Soldier: Look, sir.

LARTIUS: O,'tis Marcius!

Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike.

First Roman: This will I carry to Rome.

Second Roman: And I this.

Third Roman: A murrain on't!

I took this for silver.

MARCIUS: See here these movers that do prize their hours At a crack'd drachm!

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!

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 To help Cominius.

LARTIUS: Worthy sir, thou bleed'st; Thy exercise hath been too violent for A second course of fight.

MARCIUS: 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: to Aufidius thus I will appear, and fight.

LARTIUS: Now the fair goddess, Fortune, Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms Misguide thy opposers' swords!

Bold gentleman, Prosperity be thy page!

MARCIUS: Thy friend no less Than those she placeth highest!

So, farewell.

LARTIUS: Thou worthiest Marcius!

Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place; Call thither all the officers o' the town, Where they shall know our mind: away!

COMINIUS: Breathe you, my friends: well fought; we are come off Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, sirs, We shall be charged again.

Whiles we have struck, By interims and conveying gusts we have heard The charges of our friends.

Ye Roman gods!