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All: Farewell.

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 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.

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 Marcius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.

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 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 With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes, Like to a harvest-man that's task'd 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, look'd not lovelier Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood At Grecian sword, contemning. Tell Valeria, We are fit to bid her welcome.

VIRGILIA: Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!

VOLUMNIA: He'll beat Aufidius 'head below his knee And tread upon his neck.

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 house-keepers. 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 school-master.

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: 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 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 it, 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 husewife 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 Corioli; 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 every thing 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.

MARCIUS: Yonder comes news. A wager they have met.

LARTIUS: My horse to yours, no.

MARCIUS: 'Tis done.

LARTIUS: Agreed.

MARCIUS: Say, has our general met the enemy?

Messenger: They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet.

LARTIUS: So, the good horse is mine.

MARCIUS: I'll buy him of you.

LARTIUS: No, I'll nor sell nor give him: lend you him I will For half a hundred years. Summon the town.

MARCIUS: How far off lie these armies?

Messenger: Within this mile and half.

MARCIUS: Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they ours. Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work, That we with smoking swords may march from hence, To help our fielded friends! Come, blow thy blast. Tutus Aufidius, is he within your walls?

First Senator: No, nor a man that fears you less than he, That's lesser than a little. Hark! our drums Are bringing forth our youth. We'll break our walls, Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates, Which yet seem shut, we, have but pinn'd with rushes; They'll open of themselves. Hark you. far off! There is Aufidius; list, what work he makes Amongst your cloven army.

MARCIUS: O, they are at it!

LARTIUS: Their noise be our instruction. Ladders, ho!

MARCIUS: They fear us not, but issue forth their city. Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proof than shields. Advance, brave Titus: They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, Which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on, my fellows: He that retires I'll take him for a Volsce, And he shall feel mine edge.

MARCIUS: All the contagion of the south light on you, You shames of Rome! you herd of--Boils and plagues Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd Further than seen and one infect another Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese, That bear the shapes of men, how have you run From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell! All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale With flight and agued fear! Mend and charge home, Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe And make my wars on you: look to't: come on; If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives, As they us to our trenches followed. So, now the gates are ope: now prove good seconds: 'Tis for the followers fortune widens them, Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like.

First Soldier: Fool-hardiness; not I.

Second Soldier: Nor I.

First Soldier: See, they have shut him in.

All: To the pot, I warrant him.

LARTIUS: What is become of Marcius?

All: Slain, sir, doubtless.

First Soldier: Following the fliers at the very heels, With them he enters; who, upon the sudden, Clapp'd to their gates: he is himself alone, To answer all the city.

LARTIUS: O noble fellow! Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword, And, when it bows, stands up. Thou art left, Marcius: A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art, Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks and The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds, Thou madst thine enemies shake, as if the world Were feverous and did tremble.

First Soldier: Look, sir.

LARTIUS: O,'tis Marcius! Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike.

First Roman: This will I carry to Rome.

Second Roman: And I this.

Third Roman: A murrain on't! I took this for silver.

MARCIUS: See here these movers that do prize their hours At a crack'd drachm! Cushions, leaden spoons, Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves, Ere yet the fight be done, pack up: down with them! And hark, what noise the general makes! To him! There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius, Piercing our Romans: then, valiant Titus, take Convenient numbers to make good the city; Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste To help Cominius.

LARTIUS: Worthy sir, thou bleed'st; Thy exercise hath been too violent for A second course of fight.

MARCIUS: Sir, praise me not; My work hath yet not warm'd me: fare you well: The blood I drop is rather physical Than dangerous to me: to Aufidius thus I will appear, and fight.

LARTIUS: Now the fair goddess, Fortune, Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman, Prosperity be thy page!

MARCIUS: Thy friend no less Than those she placeth highest! So, farewell.

LARTIUS: Thou worthiest Marcius! Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place; Call thither all the officers o' the town, Where they shall know our mind: away!

COMINIUS: Breathe you, my friends: well fought; we are come off Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, sirs, We shall be charged again. Whiles we have struck, By interims and conveying gusts we have heard The charges of our friends. Ye Roman gods! Lead their successes as we wish our own, That both our powers, with smiling fronts encountering, May give you thankful sacrifice. Thy news?

Messenger: The citizens of Corioli have issued, And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle: I saw our party to their trenches driven, And then I came away.

COMINIUS: Though thou speak'st truth, Methinks thou speak'st not well. How long is't since?

Messenger: Above an hour, my lord.

COMINIUS: 'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums: How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour, And bring thy news so late?

Messenger: Spies of the Volsces Held me in chase, that I was forced to wheel Three or four miles about, else had I, sir, Half an hour since brought my report.

COMINIUS: Who's yonder, That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods He has the stamp of Marcius; and I have Before-time seen him thus.

MARCIUS:

COMINIUS: The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabour More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue From every meaner man.

MARCIUS: Come I too late?

COMINIUS: Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, But mantled in your own.

MARCIUS: O, let me clip ye In arms as sound as when I woo'd, in heart As merry as when our nuptial day was done, And tapers burn'd to bedward!

COMINIUS: Flower of warriors, How is it with Titus Lartius?

MARCIUS: As with a man busied about decrees: Condemning some to death, and some to exile; Ransoming him, or pitying, threatening the other; Holding Corioli in the name of Rome, Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, To let him slip at will.

COMINIUS: Where is that slave Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? Where is he? call him hither.

MARCIUS: Let him alone; He did inform the truth: but for our gentlemen, The common file--a plague! tribunes for them!-- The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat as they did budge From rascals worse than they.

COMINIUS: But how prevail'd you?

MARCIUS: Will the time serve to tell? I do not think. Where is the enemy? are you lords o' the field? If not, why cease you till you are so?

COMINIUS: Marcius, We have at disadvantage fought and did Retire to win our purpose.

MARCIUS: How lies their battle? know you on which side They have placed their men of trust?

COMINIUS: As I guess, Marcius, Their bands i' the vaward are the Antiates, Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius, Their very heart of hope.

MARCIUS: I do beseech you, By all the battles wherein we have fought, By the blood we have shed together, by the vows We have made to endure friends, that you directly Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates; And that you not delay the present, but, Filling the air with swords advanced and darts, We prove this very hour.