<SPEECH 1><ACT 4><SCENE 4><75%>
<ĈMILIUS>	<75%>
	Arm, arm, my lord! Rome never had more cause.
	The Goths have gather'd head, and with a power
	Of high-resolved men, bent to the spoil,
	They hither march amain, under conduct
	Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus;
	Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do
	As much as ever Coriolanus did.
</ĈMILIUS>

<SPEECH 2><ACT 4><SCENE 4><77%>
<ĈMILIUS>	<77%>
	Your bidding shall I do effectually.
</ĈMILIUS>

<SPEECH 3><ACT 5><SCENE 1><83%>
<ĈMILIUS>	<83%>
	Lord Lucius, and you princes of the Goths,
	The Roman emperor greets you all by me;
	And, for he understands you are in arms,
	He craves a parley at your father's house,
	Willing you to demand your hostages,
	And they shall be immediately deliver'd.
</ĈMILIUS>

<SPEECH 4><ACT 5><SCENE 3><97%>
<ĈMILIUS>	<97%>
	Come, come, thou reverend man of Rome,
	And bring our emperor gently in thy hand,
	Lucius, our emperor; for well I know
	The common voice do cry it shall be so.
</ĈMILIUS>

