Vol.

I pray you, daughter, sing, or express yourself in a more comfortable sort: if my son were my husband, I should ^note freelier rejoice in that absence wherein ^note he won honour than in the embracements of his bed where he would ^note 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' ^note entreaties, a mother should not sell ^note 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 ^note 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 ^note eleven die nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.

Gent.

Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you.

Vir.
Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.

Vol.
Indeed, you shall ^note not.
Methinks I hear hither ^note your husband's drum;
See ^note him pluck Aufidius down ^note by the hair;
As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning ^note him: ^note
Methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus ^note:
‘Come on, you cowards ^note! you were ^note 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 ^note task'd to mow
Or ^note 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 ^note: the breasts ^note of Hecuba,
When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier
Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood
At Grecian sword, contemning. ^note Tell Valeria
We are fit ^note to bid her welcome. [Exit Gent.

Vir.
Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!

Vol.
He'll beat Aufidius' ^note head below his knee,
And tread upon his neck. Enter Valeria, with an Usher and Gentlewoman. ^note

Val.
My ladies both ^note, good day to you.

Vol.
Sweet madam.

Vir.
I am glad to see your ladyship.

Val.
How do you both? you are manifest house-keepers.
What are ^note you sewing ^note here? A fine spot, in ^note good faith.
How does your little son?

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

Vol.

He had rather see the swords ^note and hear a drum than look upon his schoolmaster.

Val.

O' my word, the father's son: I'll swear, 'tis a very pretty boy. O' ^note my troth, I looked upon ^note him o' ^note Wednesday half an hour together: has ^note 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 ^note it again: or whether ^note 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 ^note 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.

Vir.

No, good madam; I will not out of doors. ^note

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.

Val.

Fie, you confine yourself most ^note unreasonably: come, you must go visit the good lady that lies in.

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' ^note absence did but fill Ithaca ^note 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.

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? ^note

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 ^note; they nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief wars. This is true, on mine ^note honour; and so, I pray, go with us.

Vir.

Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every thing hereafter.

Vol.

Let her alone, lady; as she is now, ^note 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' ^note door, and go along with us.

Vir.

No, at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish you much mirth. ^note

Val.

Well then, farewell.