Sic.
Bid them all home, he's gone; and we'll no further.
Vex'd are the Nobles, who, we see, have sided
In his behalf.

Bru.
Now we have shewn 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.
Here comes his Mother. Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Menenius.

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.
Oh, y'are well met:
The hoorded plague o' th' 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?
You shall stay too.

Virg.
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? hadst thou foxship
To banish him that struck more blows for Rome,
Than thou hast spoken words—

Sic.
Oh blessed heav'ns!

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?

Virg.
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 continued to his Country
As he began, and not unknit himself
The noble knot he made.

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 Heav'n
Will not have Earth to know.

Bru.
Pray let us go.

Vol.
Now, pray, Sir, get you gone.
You've 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 you to be baited
With one that wants her wits? [Exeunt Tribunes.

Vol.
Take my prayers with you,
I wish, the Gods had nothing else to do,
But to confirm my curses! Could I meet 'em
But once a-day, it would unclog my heart
Of what lyes heavy to't.

Men.
You've told them home,
And, by my troth, have cause: you'll sup with me?

Vol.
Anger's my meat, I sup upon my self,
And so shall starve with feeding: come, let's go,

Leave this faint puling, and lament as I do,
In anger, Juno like: come, come, fie, fie! [Exeunt.

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