With precepts that would make invincibleThe heart that conn’d them.
VIRGILIA.
O heavens! O heavens!
CORIOLANUS.
Nay, I pr’ythee, woman,—
VOLUMNIA.
Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome,
And occupations perish!
CORIOLANUS.
What, what, what!
I shall be lov’d when I am lack’d. Nay, mother,
Resume that spirit when you were wont to say,
If you had been the wife of Hercules,
Six of his labours you’d have done, and sav’d
Your husband so much sweat.—Cominius,
Droop not; adieu.—Farewell, my wife,—my mother:
I’ll do well yet.—Thou old and true Menenius,
Thy tears are salter than a younger man’s,
And venomous to thine eyes.—My sometime general,
I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld
Heart-hard’ning spectacles; tell these sad women
‘Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes,
As ‘tis to laugh at ‘em.—My mother, you wot well
My hazards still have been your solace: and
Believe’t not lightly,—though I go alone,
Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen
Makes fear’d and talk’d of more than seen,—your son
Will or exceed the common or be caught
With cautelous baits and practice.
VOLUMNIA.
My first son,
Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius
With thee awhile: determine on some course
More than a wild exposture to each chance
That starts i’ the way before thee.
CORIOLANUS.
O the gods!
COMINIUS.
I’ll follow thee a month, devise with thee
Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us,
And we of thee: so, if the time thrust forth
A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send
O’er the vast world to seek a single man;
And lose advantage, which doth ever cool
I’ the absence of the needer.
CORIOLANUS.
Fare ye well:
Thou hast years upon thee; and thou art too full
Of the wars’ surfeits to go rove with one
That’s yet unbruis’d: bring me but out at gate.—
Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and
My friends of noble touch; when I am forth,
Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come.
While I remain above the ground, you shall
Hear from me still; and never of me aught
But what is like me formerly.
MENENIUS.
That’s worthily
As any ear can hear.—Come, let’s not weep.—
If I could shake off but one seven years
From these old arms and legs, by the good gods,
I’d with thee every foot.
CORIOLANUS.
Give me thy hand:—
Come.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE II. Rome. A street near the gate.
[Enter SICINIUS, BRUTUS, and an AEDILE.]
SICINIUS.
Bid them all home; he’s gone, and we’ll no further.—
The nobility are vex’d, whom we see have sided
In his behalf.
BRUTUS.
Now we have shown our power,
Let us seem humbler after it is done
Than when it was a-doing.
SICINIUS.
Bid them home:
Say their great enemy is gone, and they
Stand in their ancient strength.
BRUTUS.
Dismiss them home.
[Exit AEDILE.]
Here comes his mother.
SICINIUS.
Let’s not meet her.
BRUTUS.
Why?
SICINIUS.
They say she’s mad.
BRUTUS.
They have ta’en note of us: keep on your way.
[Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and MENENIUS.]
VOLUMNIA.
O, you’re well met: the hoarded plague o’ the gods
Requite your love!
MENENIUS.
Peace, peace, be not so loud.
VOLUMNIA.
If that I could for weeping, you should hear,—
