1    I pray you, daughter, sing; or express yourself in a
2    more comfortable sort: if my son were my husband, I
3    should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he
4    won honour than in the embracements of his bed where
5    he would show most love. When yet he was but
6    tender-bodied and the only son of my womb, when
7    youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way, when
8    for a day of kings' entreaties a mother should not
9    sell him an hour from her beholding, I, considering
10   how honour would become such a person. that it was
11   no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if
12   renown made it not stir, was pleased to let him seek
13   danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel
14   war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows
15   bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not
16   more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child
17   than now in first seeing he had proved himself a
18   man.

19   But had he died in the business, madam; how then?

20   Then his good report should have been my son; I
21   therein would have found issue. Hear me profess
22   sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love
23   alike and none less dear than thine and my good
24   Marcius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their
25   country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.

26   Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you.

27   Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.

28   Indeed, you shall not.
29   Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum,
30   See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair,
31   As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning him:
32   Methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus:
33   'Come on, you cowards! you were got in fear,
34   Though you were born in Rome:' his bloody brow
35   With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes,
36   Like to a harvest-man that's task'd to mow
37   Or all or lose his hire.

38   His bloody brow! O Jupiter, no blood!

39   Away, you fool! it more becomes a man
40   Than gilt his trophy: the breasts of Hecuba,
41   When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier
42   Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood
43   At Grecian sword, contemning. Tell Valeria,
44   We are fit to bid her welcome.

45   Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!

46   He'll beat Aufidius 'head below his knee
47   And tread upon his neck.

48   My ladies both, good day to you.

49   Sweet madam.

50   I am glad to see your ladyship.

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

54   I thank your ladyship; well, good madam.

55   He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, than
56   look upon his school-master.

57   O' my word, the father's son: I'll swear,'tis a
58   very pretty boy. O' my troth, I looked upon him o'
59   Wednesday half an hour together: has such a
60   confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded
61   butterfly: and when he caught it, he let it go
62   again; and after it again; and over and over he
63   comes, and again; catched it again; or whether his
64   fall enraged him, or how 'twas, he did so set his
65   teeth and tear it; O, I warrant it, how he mammocked
66   it!

67   One on 's father's moods.

68   Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child.

69   A crack, madam.

70   Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play
71   the idle husewife with me this afternoon.

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

73   Not out of doors!

74   She shall, she shall.

75   Indeed, no, by your patience; I'll not over the
76   threshold till my lord return from the wars.

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

79   I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with
80   my prayers; but I cannot go thither.

81   Why, I pray you?

82   'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love.

83   You would be another Penelope: yet, they say, all
84   the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence did but fill
85   Ithaca full of moths. Come; I would your cambric
86   were sensible as your finger, that you might leave
87   pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us.

88   No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth.

89   In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you
90   excellent news of your husband.

91   O, good madam, there can be none yet.

92   Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from
93   him last night.

94   Indeed, madam?

95   In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it.
96   Thus it is: the Volsces have an army forth; against
97   whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of
98   our Roman power: your lord and Titus Lartius are set
99   down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt
100  prevailing and to make it brief wars. This is true,
101  on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us.

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

104  Let her alone, lady: as she is now, she will but
105  disease our better mirth.

106  In troth, I think she would. Fare you well, then.
107  Come, good sweet lady. Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy
108  solemness out o' door. and go along with us.

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

111  Well, then, farewell.