Act I.]

CORIOLANUS.

271

We shall be shorten’d in our aim ; which was.To take in many towns, ere, almost, Rome Should know we were afoot.

2 Sen. Noble Aufidius,

Take your commission ; hie you to your bands:Let us alone to guard Corioli:

If they set down before us, for the removeBring up your army; but, I think, you’ll findThey have not prepar’d for us.

Auf. 0, doubt not that;

I speak from certainties. Nay, more,

Some parcels of their powers are forth already,And only hitherward. I leave your honours.

If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet,

’Tis sworn between us, we shall never strike,Till one can do no more.

All. The gods assist you !

Auf. And keep your honours safe !

1 Sen. Farewell.

2 Sen. Farewell.

All. Farewell. £ Exeunt.

SCENE III.-— Rome . An apartment in Mar-cius’ house.

Enter Volumnia, and Virgii.ia : They sitdown on two low stools, and sew.

Vol. I pray you, daughter, sing; or expressyourself in a more comfortable sort: If my sonwere my husband, I should freelier rejoice inthat absence wherein he won honour, than inthe embracements of his bed, where he wouldshow most love. When yet he was but tender-bodied, and the only son of my womb; whenyouth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way ;when, for a day of kings’ entreaties, a mothershould not sell him an hour from her beholding ;I,—considering how honour would become sucha person ; that it was no better than picture-liketo hang by the wall, if renown made it not stir,—was pleased to let him seek danger where hewas like to find fame. To a cruel war I senthim; from whence he returned, his browsbound with oak. I tell thee, daughter,—Isprang not more in joy. at first hearing he wasa man-child, than now in first seeing he hadproved himself a man.

Vir. But had he died in the business, madam ?how then ?

Vol. Then his good report should have beenmy 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 thanthine and my good Marcius, —I had rather hadeleven die nobly for their country, than one vo-luptuously surfeit out of action.

Enter a Gentlewoman,

Gent. Madam, the lady Valeria is come to vi-sit you.

Vir. ’Beseech you, give me leave to retire my-self.

Vol. Indeed, you shall not.

Methinks I hear hither your husband’s drum ;See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair;

As children from a bear, the Voices shunninghim :

Methinks, I see him stamp thus, and call thus,—Come on, you cowards, you were pot in fear,Though you were horn in Rome : His bloody browWith his mail’d hand then wiping, forth he goes ;Like to a harvest-man, that’s task’d to mowOr all, or lose his hire.

Vir. His bloody brow ! O, Jupiter, no blood!

Vol. Away, you fool! it more becomes a man,Than gilt his trophy: The breasts of Hecuba ,When she did suckle Hector , look’d not lovelierThan Hector ’s forehead, when it spit forth bloodAt Grecian swords contending.—Tell Valeria,We are fit to bid her welcome. fExit Gent,

Vir. Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius !

Vol. He’ll beat Aufidius’ head below his knee,And tread upon his neck.

Re-enter Gentlewoman, with Valeria and herUsher.

Val. My ladies both, good day to you.

Vol. Sweet madam,—

Vir. I am glad to see your ladyship.

Val. How do you both? you are manifesthouse-keepers. What, are you sewing here ?A fine spot, in good faith.—IIow does your lit-tle son ?

Vir. I thank your ladyship; well, good madam.

Vol. He had rather see the swords, and heara drum, than look upon his school-master.

Val. O’my word, the father’s son : I’ll swear,’tis a very pretty boy. O’my troth, I lookedupon him o’Wednesday half an hour together :he has such a confirmed countenance. I sawhim run after a gilded butterfly ; and when hecaught 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 enragedhim, or how ’twas, lie did so set his teeth, andtear it; O, I warrant, how he mammocked it!

Vol. One of his father's moods.

Val. Indeed la, ’tis a noble child.

Vir. A crack, madam.

Val. Come, lay aside your stiteliery ; I musthave you play the idle huswife with me this af-ternoon.

Vir. No, good madam; I will not out ofdoors.

Val. Not out of doors !

Vol. She shall, she shall.

Vir. Indeed, no, by your patience: I will notover the threshold, till my lord return from thewars.

Val. Fye, you confine yourself most unrea-sonably ; Come, you must go visit the good ladythat lies in.

Vir. I will wish her speedy strength, and vi-sit her with my prayers; but I cannot go thither.

Vol. Why, 1 pray you ?

Vir. ’Tisnottosave labour, nor thatl wantlove.