Printable version of this page

The Tragedy of Coriolanus: Act 1 Scene 3

Scene III Rome. A room in Marcius' house.

[Enter VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA they set them down

on two low stools, and sew]

VOLUMNIA

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 kings' 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.

VIRGILIA

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

VOLUMNIA

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]

GENTLEWOMAN

Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you.

VIRGILIA

Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.

VOLUMNIA

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.

VIRGILIA

His bloody brow! O Jupiter, no blood!

VOLUMNIA

Away, you fool! it more becomes a man

Than gilt his trophy: 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, contemning. Tell Valeria,

We are fit to bid her welcome.

[Exit Gentlewoman]

VIRGILIA

Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!

VOLUMNIA

He'll beat Aufidius 'head below his knee

And tread upon his neck.

[Enter VALERIA, with an Usher and Gentlewoman]

VALERIA

My ladies both, good day to you.

VOLUMNIA

Sweet madam.

VIRGILIA

I am glad to see your ladyship.

VALERIA

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?

VIRGILIA

I thank your ladyship; well, good madam.

VOLUMNIA

He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, than

look upon his school-master.

VALERIA

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: 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 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 it, how he mammocked

it!

VOLUMNIA

One on 's father's moods.

VALERIA

Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child.

VIRGILIA

A crack, madam.

VALERIA

Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play

the idle husewife with me this afternoon.

VIRGILIA

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

VALERIA

Not out of doors!

VOLUMNIA

She shall, she shall.

VIRGILIA

Indeed, no, by your patience; I'll not over the

threshold till my lord return from the wars.

VALERIA

Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably: come,

you must go visit the good lady that lies in.

VIRGILIA

I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with

my prayers; but I cannot go thither.

VOLUMNIA

Why, I pray you?

VIRGILIA

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

VALERIA

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

were sensible as your finger, that you might leave

pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us.

VIRGILIA

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

VALERIA

In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you

excellent news of your husband.

VIRGILIA

O, good madam, there can be none yet.

VALERIA

Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from

him last night.

VIRGILIA

Indeed, madam?

VALERIA

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.

VIRGILIA

Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every

thing hereafter.

VOLUMNIA

Let her alone, lady: as she is now, she will but

disease our better mirth.

VALERIA

In troth, I think she would. Fare you well, then.

Come, good sweet lady. Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy

solemness out o' door. and go along with us.

VIRGILIA

No, at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish

you much mirth.

VALERIA

Well, then, farewell.

[Exeunt]