Sic.
Bid them all home; he's gone, and we'll no further.—
The nobility are vex'd, who, we see, have sided
In his behalf.

Bru.
Now we have shown our power,
Let us seem humbler after it is done,
Than when it was a doing.

Sic.
Bid them home:
Say, their great enemy is gone, and they
Stand in their ancient strength.

Bru.
Dismiss them home. [Exit Ædile. Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Menenius.
Here comes his mother.

Sic.
Let's not meet her.

Bru.
Why?

Sic.
They say, she's mad.

Bru.
They have ta'en note of us: keep on your way.

Vol.
O, you're well met: The hoarded plague o' the gods
Requite your love!

Men.
Peace, peace; be not so loud.

Vol.
If that I could for weeping, you should hear,—
Nay, and you shall hear some.—Will you be gone? [To Brutus.

Vir.
You shall stay too: [To Sicin.] I would, I had the power
To say so to my husband.

Sic.
Are you mankind?

Vol.
Ay, fool; Is that a shame?—Note but this fool.—
Was not a man my father^{6 note}

Sic.
O blessed heavens!

Vol.
More noble blows, than ever thou wise words;
And for Rome's good.—I'll tell thee what;—Yet go:—
Nay, but thou shalt stay too:—I would my son

Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him,
His good sword in his hand.

Sic.
What then?

Vir.
What then!
He'd make an end of thy posterity.

Vol.
Bastards, and all.—
Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome!

Men.
Come, come, peace.

Sic.
I would he had continu'd to his country,
As he began; and not unknit himself
The noble knot he made^{8 note}


.

Bru.
I would he had.

Vol.
I would he had! 'Twas you incens'd the rabble:
Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth,
As I can of those mysteries which heaven
Will not have earth to know.

Bru.
Pray, let us go.

Vol.
Now, pray, sir, get you gone:
You have done a brave deed. Ere you go, hear this:
As far as doth the Capitol exceed
The meanest house in Rome: so far, my son,
(This lady's husband here, this, do you see,)
Whom you have banish'd, does exceed you all.

Bru.
Well, well, we'll leave you.

Sic.
Why stay we to be baited
With one that wants her wits?

Vol.
Take my prayers with you.—
I would the gods had nothing else to do, [Exeunt Tribunes.
But to confirm my curses! Could I meet them

But once a day, it would unclog my heart
Of what lies heavy to't.

Men.
You have told them home^{9 note}
,
And, by my troth, you have cause. You'll sup with me?

Vol.
Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself,
And so shall starve with feeding^{1 note}
.—Come, let's go:
Leave this faint puling, and lament as I do,
In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come.

Men.
Fye, fye, fye! [Exeunt.

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