Cor.
Let them pull all about mine ears; present me
Death on the wheel, or at wild horses' heels;
Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock,
That the precipitation might down stretch
Below the beam of sight; yet will I still
Be thus to them ^note. ^note

A Patrician. ^note
You do the nobler. ^note

Cor.
I muse my ^note mother

Does not approve me further ^note, who was wont
To call them woollen ^note vassals, things created
To buy and sell with groats, to show bare heads
In congregations, to yawn ^note, be still and wonder,
When one but of my ordinance stood up ^note
To speak of peace or war. Enter Volumnia. ^note
I talk of you:
Why did you wish me milder? would you have me
False to my nature? Rather say, I play
The man I am ^note.

Vol.
O, sir, sir, sir, ^note
I would have had you put your power well on,
Before you had worn it out.

Cor.
Let go. ^note

Vol.
You might have been enough the man you are,
With striving less to be so: lesser ^note had been
The thwartings of ^note your dispositions ^note, if
You had not show'd them how ye ^note were disposed
Ere they lack'd power to cross you.

Cor.
Let them hang.

Vol.
Ay, and burn too. Enter Menenius with the Senators.

Men.
Come, come, you have ^note been too rough, something too rough;

You must return and mend it. ^note

First Sen. ^note
There's no remedy;
Unless, by not so doing, our good city
Cleave in the midst, and perish.

Vol.
Pray, be counsell'd:
I have a heart as little apt ^note as yours, ^note
But yet a brain that leads my use of anger
To better vantage.

Men.
Well said, noble woman!
Before he should thus stoop to the herd ^note, but that
The violent fit o' ^note the time ^note craves it as physic
For the whole state, I would ^note put mine armour on,
Which I can scarcely bear.

Cor.
What must I do?

Men.
Return to the tribunes.

Cor.
Well, what then? what then?

Men.
Repent what you have spoke. ^note

Cor.
For them! I cannot do it to the gods ^note;
Must I then do't to them?

Vol.
You are too absolute;
Though therein you can never be too noble,
But when extremities speak. I have ^note heard you say,
Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends,
I' the war do grow together: grant that, and tell me,
In peace what each of them by the other lose ^note,
That they combine not there.

Cor.
Tush, tush!

Men.
A good demand.

Vol.
If it be honour in your wars to seem

The same you are not, which, for your best ends,
You adopt ^note your policy, how is it ^note less or worse,
That it shall hold companionship in peace
With honour ^note, as in war, since that to both
It stands in like request?

Cor.
Why force you this?

Vol.
Because that now ^note it lies you on ^note to speak
To the people; not by your own instruction,
Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you ^note,
But with such words that are ^note but roted in ^note
Your tongue, though but ^note bastards and syllables ^{note note}
Of no allowance ^note to ^note your bosom's truth.
Now, this no more dishonours you at all
Than to take in a town with gentle words,
Which else would put you to your fortune and
The hazard of much blood.
I would dissemble with my nature, where
My fortunes and my friends at stake required
I should do so in honour. I am ^note in this, ^note
Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles; ^note
And you will rather show our general louts
How you can frown than spend a fawn upon 'em,
For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard

Of what that want might ruin.

Men.
Noble lady! ^note
Come, go with us; speak fair: you may salve so,
Not ^note what is dangerous present, but the loss
Of what is past.

Vol.
I prithee now, my son,
Go to them, with this ^note bonnet in thy hand;
And thus far having stretch'd it—here be with ^note them ^note—
Thy knee bussing ^note the stones—for in such business
Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant
More learned than the ears—waving ^note thy head ^note,
Which often ^{note note}, thus, ^{note note} correcting thy stout heart,
Now humble ^note as the ripest mulberry
That ^note will not hold the handling: or ^note say to them,
Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils
Hast not the soft way which, thou dost confess,
Were fit for thee to use, as they ^note to claim,
In asking their good loves; but thou wilt frame
Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far
As thou hast power and person.

Men.
This but done,
Even as she speaks ^note, why, their ^note hearts were yours;
For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free
As words to little purpose.

Vol.
Prithee now,
Go, and be ruled: although I know thou hadst ^note rather
Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf
Than flatter him in a bower. Enter Cominius.
Here is Cominius.

Com.
I have ^note been i' the market-place; and, sir, 'tis fit
You make ^note strong party, or defend yourself
By calmness or by absence: all's in anger.

Men.
Only fair speech.

Com.
I think 'twill serve, if he
Can thereto frame his spirit ^note.

Vol.
He must, and will.
Prithee now, say you will, and go about it.

Cor.
Must I go show them my unbarb'd ^note sconce? must I,
With my ^note base tongue, give to my noble heart ^note
A lie, that it must bear? Well, ^note I will do't:
Yet, were there but this single plot to lose, ^note
This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grind ^note it,
And throw't against the wind. To the market-place!
You have ^note put me now to such a part, which ^note never
I shall discharge to the life.

Com.
Come, come, we'll prompt you.

Vol.
I prithee ^note now, sweet son, as thou hast said
My praises made thee first a soldier, so,
To have my praise for this, perform a part
Thou hast not done before.

Cor.
Well, I must do't:
Away, my disposition, and possess me
Some harlot's spirit! my throat of war be turn'd,

Which quired ^note with my drum, into a pipe ^note
Small as an eunuch ^note, or the virgin voice
That babies lulls ^note asleep! the smiles of knaves
Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys' tears take up
The glasses of my sight ^note! a beggar's tongue
Make motion through my lips, and my arm'd knees,
Who ^note bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his
That hath received an alms! I will not do't;
Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth,
And by my body's action teach my mind
A most inherent baseness.

Vol.
At thy choice then:
To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour
Than thou of them. Come all to ruin: let
Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear
Thy dangerous stoutness, for I mock at death
With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list.
Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst ^note it from me,
But owe ^note thy pride thyself.

Cor.
Pray, be content:
Mother, I am ^note going to the market-place;
Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves,
Cog their hearts from them and come home beloved
Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going:
Commend me to my wife. I'll return consul;
Or never trust to what my tongue can do
I' the way of flattery further.

Vol.
Do your will. [Exit. ^note

Com.
Away! the tribunes do attend you: arm yourself
To answer mildly; for they are ^note prepared
With accusations, as I hear, more strong
Than are upon you yet.

Cor.
The word is ‘mildly.’ Pray you, let us go:
Let them accuse me by invention, I
Will answer in mine honour.

Men.
Ay, but mildly.

Cor.
Well, mildly be it then. Mildly! ^note [Exeunt. ^note

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