Virgilia. They sit down on two low Stools, and sew.
Vol.
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 king's 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.
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 eleven die nobly for their
country, than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.
Enter a Gentlewoman.
Gent.
Madam, the lady Valeria is come to visit you.
Vir.
'Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.
-- 154 --
Vol.
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.
Vir.
His bloody brow? O, Jupiter! no blood.
Vol.
Away, you fool! it more becomes a man,
Than gilt his trophy5 note: 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's contending 11Q08626 note.—Tell Valeria,
We are fit to bid her welcome.
[Exit Gent.
Vir.
Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!
Vol.
He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee,
And tread upon his neck.
Re-enter Gentlewoman, with Valeria and her Usher.
Val.
My ladies both, 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 you sewing here? A fine spot, in
good faith.—How does your little son?
Vir.
I thank your ladyship; well, good madam.
Vol.
He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum,
than look upon his school-master.
-- 155 --
Val.
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: he 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 up
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, how he mammocked it!
Vol.
One of his father's moods.
Val.
Indeed la, 'tis a noble child.
Vir.
A crack, madam7 note.
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.
Val.
Not out of doors!
Vol.
She shall, she shall.
Vir.
Indeed, no, by your patience: I will not over
the threshold, till my lord return from the wars.
Vol.
Fie! you confine yourself most 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' absence did but fill
Ithaca full of moths. Come: I would, your cambric
where 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.
-- 156 --
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?
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; they nothing doubt
prevailing, and to make it brief wars. This is true on
mine 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, she will but
disease our better mirth.
Val.
In troth, I think, she would.—Fare you well
then.—Come, good sweet lady.—Pr'ythee, Virgilia, turn
thy solemness out o' door, and go along with us.
Vir.
No, at a word, madam; indeed, I must not.
I wish you much mirth.
Val.
Well then, farewell.
[Exeunt.
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
