I'll fight with none but thee; for I do hate thee
Worse than a promise-breaker.

We hate alike:
Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor
More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot.

Let the first budger die the other's slave,
And the gods doom him after!

If I fly, Marcius,
Holloa me like a hare.

Within these three hours, Tullus,
Alone I fought in your Corioli walls,
And made what work I pleased: 'tis not my blood
Wherein thou seest me mask'd; for thy revenge
Wrench up thy power to the highest.

Wert thou the Hector
That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny,
Thou shouldst not scape me here.

They fight, and certain Volsces come to the aid of Aufidius. Marcius fights till they be driven in breathless

Officious, and not valiant, you have shamed me
In your condemned seconds.