Enter Volumnia and Virgilia, mother and wife to Martius. They set them
down on two low stools and sew.
VOLUMNIA.
I pray you, daughter, sing, or express yourself in a more comfortable
sort. If my son were my husband, I should 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 th’ 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.
VIRGILIA.
But had he died in the business, madam, how then?
VOLUMNIA.
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 Martius, I had
rather had eleven die nobly for their country than one voluptuously
surfeit out of action.
Enter a Gentlewoman.
GENTLEWOMAN.
Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you.
VIRGILIA.
Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.
VOLUMNIA.
Indeed you shall not.
Methinks I hear hither your husband’s drum,
See him pluck Aufidius down by th’ 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
With his mailed hand then wiping, forth he goes
Like to a harvestman that’s tasked to mow
Or all or lose his hire.
VIRGILIA.
His bloody brow? O Jupiter, no blood!
VOLUMNIA.
Away, you fool! It more becomes a man
Than gilt his trophy. The breasts of Hecuba,
When she did suckle Hector, looked not lovelier
Than Hector’s forehead when it spit forth blood
At Grecian sword, contemning.—Tell Valeria
We are fit to bid her welcome.
[_Exit Gentlewoman._]
VIRGILIA.
Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!
VOLUMNIA.
He’ll beat Aufidius’ head below his knee
And tread upon his neck.
Enter Valeria with an Usher and a Gentlewoman.
VALERIA.
My ladies both, good day to you.
VOLUMNIA.
Sweet madam.
VIRGILIA.
I am glad to see your Ladyship.
VALERIA.
How do you both? You are manifest housekeepers. What are you sewing
here? A fine spot, in good faith. How does your little son?
VIRGILIA.
I thank your Ladyship; well, good madam.
VOLUMNIA.
He had rather see the swords and hear a drum than look upon his
schoolmaster.
VALERIA.
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. H’as 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!
VOLUMNIA.
One on’s father’s moods.
VALERIA.
Indeed, la, ’tis a noble child.
VIRGILIA.
A crack, madam.
VALERIA.
Come, lay aside your stitchery. I must have you play the idle huswife
with me this afternoon.
VIRGILIA.
No, good madam, I will not out of doors.
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 Corioles. 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 everything 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.
[_Exeunt._]