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Rome. A Room in MARCIUS’S House. | |
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Enter VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA: they set them down on two low stools and sew. | |
| Vol. I pray you, daughter, sing; or express yourself in a more comfortable sort. If my son were my husband, I would freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won honour than in the embracements of his bed where he would show most love. When yet he was but tender-bodied and the only son of my womb, when youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way, when for a day of kings’ entreaties a mother should not sell him an hour from her beholding, I, considering how honour would become such a person, that it was no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if renown made it not stir, was pleased to let him seek danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child than now in first seeing he had proved himself a man. | |
| Vir. But had he died in the business, madam; how then? | |
| Vol. Then, his good report should have been my son; I therein would have found issue. Hear me profess sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love alike, and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action. | 5 |
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Enter a Gentlewoman. | |
| Gen. Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you. | |
| Vir. Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself. | |
| Vol. Indeed, you shall not. | |
| Methinks I hear hither your husband’s drum, | 10 |
| See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair, | |
| As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning him: | |
| Methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus: | |
| ‘Come on, you cowards! you were got in fear, | |
| Though you were born in Rome.’ His bloody brow | 15 |
| With his mail’d hand then wiping, forth he goes, | |
| Like to a harvestman that’s task’d to mow | |
| Or all or lose his hire. | |
| Vir. His bloody brow! O Jupiter! no blood. | |
| Vol. Away, you fool! it more becomes a man | 20 |
| Than gilt his trophy: the breasts of Hecuba, | |
| When she did suckle Hector, look’d not lovelier | |
| Than Hector’s forehead when it spit forth blood | |
| At Grecian swords, contemning. Tell Valeria | |
| We are fit to bid her welcome. [Exit Gentlewoman. | 25 |
| Vir. Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius! | |
| Vol. He’ll beat Aufidius’ head below his knee, | |
| And tread upon his neck. | |
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Re-enter Gentlewoman, with VALERIA and an Usher. | |
| Val. My ladies both, good day to you. | 30 |
| Vol. Sweet madam. | |
| Vir. I am glad to see your ladyship. | |
| Val. How do you both? you are manifest housekeepers. What are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good faith. How does your little son? | |
| Vir. I thank your ladyship; well, good madam. | |
| Vol. He had rather see the swords and hear a drum, than look upon his schoolmaster. | 35 |
| Val. O’ my word, the father’s son; I’ll swear ’tis a very pretty boy. O’ my troth, I looked upon him o’ Wednesday half an hour together: he has such a confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded butterfly; and when he caught it, he let it go again; and after it again; and over and over he comes, and up again; catched it again: or whether his fall enraged him, or how ’twas, he did so set his teeth and tear it; O! I warrant, how he mammocked it! | |
| Vol. One on ’s father’s moods. | |
| Val. Indeed, la, ’tis a noble child. | |
| Vir. A crack, madam. | |
| Val. Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play the idle huswife with me this afternoon. | 40 |
| Vir. No, good madam; I will not out of doors. | |
| Val. Not out of doors! | |
| Vol. She shall, she shall. | |
| Vir. Indeed, no, by your patience; I’ll not over the threshold till my lord return from the wars. | |
| Vol. Fie! you confine yourself most unreasonably. Come; you must go visit the good lady that lies in. | 45 |
| Vir. I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with my prayers; but I cannot go thither. | |
| Vol. Why, I pray you? | |
| Vir. ’Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love. | |
| Val. 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. | |
| Vir. No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth. | 50 |
| Val. In truth, la, go with me; and I’ll tell you excellent news of your husband. | |
| Vir. O, good madam, there can be none yet. | |
| Val. Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from him last night. | |
| Vir. Indeed, madam? | |
| Val. 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. | 55 |
| Vir. Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every thing hereafter. | |
| Vol. Let her alone, lady: as she is now she will but disease our better mirth. | |
| Val. 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. | |
| Vir. No, at a word, madam; indeed I must not. I wish you much mirth. | |
| Val. Well then, farewell. [Exeunt. | 60 |
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