VOLUMNIA

I pray you daughter sing, or express your self in a more comfortable sort: If my Son were my Hus band, I should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won Honour, then 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 and hour from her beholding; I considering how Honour would become such a person, that it was no better then 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 Manchild, then now in first seeing he had pro ved himself a man. Away you Fool; it more becomes a man Then gilded his Trophe. The breasts of Hecuba When she did suckle Hector, looked not lovelier Then Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood At Grecian sword. Contenning, tell Valeria We are fit to bid her welcome. She shall, she shall. Good Ladies let's go. Yes, yes, yes: The Senate ha Letters from the General, wherein he gives my Son the whole Name of the War: he hath in this Actium outdone his former deeds doubly. These are the Ushers of Martius: Before him, he carries Noise; And behind him, he leaves Tears: Death, that dark Spirit, in's nervy Arm does lie, Which being advanced, declines, and then men die. Nay, my good Soldier, up: My gentle Martius, worthy Caius, And by deed-atchieuing Honour newly named, What is it (Coriolanus) must I call thee? But o, thy Wife. O sir, sir, sir, I would have had you put your power well on Before you had worn it out. If it be Honour in your Wars, to seem The same you are not, which for your best ends You adopt your policy: How is it less or worse That it shall hold Companionship in Peace With Honour, as in War; since that to both It stands in Like request. Because, that Now it lies you on to speak to the people: Not by your own instruction, nor by' the matter Which your heart prompts you, but with such words That are but roated in your Tongue; Though but Bastards, and Syllables Of no allowance, to your bosoms truth. Now, this no more dishonours you at all, Then to take in a Town with gentle words, Which else would put you to your fortune, and The hazard of much blood. I would dissemble with my Nature, where My Fortune's and my Friends at stake, required I should do so in Honour. I am in this Your Wife, your Son: These Senators, the Nobles, And you, will rather show our general Lowts, How you can frown, then spend a fawn upon they, For the inheritance of their loves, and safeguard Of what that want might ruin. I pry thee now, my Son, Go to them, with this Bonnet in thy hand, And thus far having stretched it (here be with them) Thy Knee bussing the stones: for in such business Actium is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant More learned then the ears, waving thy head, Which often thus correcting thy stout heart, Now humble as the ripest Mulberry, That will not hold the handling: or say to them, Thou art their Soldier, and being bred in broils, Hast not the soft way, which thou dost confess Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim, In asking their good loves, but thou wilt frame Thy self (forsooth) hereafter theirs so far, As thou hast power and person. Take my Prayers with you. I would the Gods had nothing else to do, But to confirm my Curses. Could I meet they But once a day, it would vnclogge my heart Of what lies heavy too't. Your knee, Sirrah. Then his good report should have been my Son, I therein would have found issue. Hear me pro fesse sincerely, had I a dozen sons each in my love alike, and none less deer then thine, and my good Martius, I had rather had eleven die Nobly for their Country, then one voluptuously surfeit out of Actium. Indeed you shall not: Me thinks, I hear hither your Husbands Drum: See him pluck Auffidius down by the hair: (As children from a Bear) the Volces shunning him: Me thinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus, Come on you Cowards, you were God in fear Though you were born in Room; his bloody brow With his mailed hand, then wiping, forth he goes Like to a Harvest man, that tasked to mow Or all, or lose his hire. Why I pray you. Honourable Menenius, my Boy Martius appro ches: for the love of Juno let's go. I, worthy Menenius and with most prosperous approbation. Look, here's a Letter from him, the State hath another, his Wife another, and (I think) there's one at home for you. O, he is wounded, I thank the Gods for't. On's Brows: Menenius, he comes the third time home with the Oaken Garland. Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but Auffidius God off. True? pow waw. Ith' Shoulder, and ith' left Arm: there will be large Cicatrices to show the People, when he shall stand for his place: he received in the repulse of Tarquin seven hurts ith' Body. He had, before this last Expedition, twenty five Wounds upon him. I know not where to turn. O welcome home: and welcome General, And you are welcome all. I have lived, To see inherited my very Wishes, And the Buildings of my Fancy: Only there's one thing wanting, Which (I doubt not) but our Room Will cast upon thee. I, and burn too. Pray be counsail'd; I have a heart as little apt as yours, But yet a brain, that leads my use of Anger To better vantage. You are too absolute, Though therein you can never be too Noble, But when extremities speak. I have herd you say, Honour and Policy, Like unsevered Friends, In the War do grow together: Grant that, and tell me In Peace, what each of them by the other lose, That they combine not there? Prithee now, Go, and be ruled: although I know thou hadst rather Follow thine Enemy in a fiery Gulf, Then flatter him in a Bower. Here is Cominius. He must, and will: Prithee now say you will, and go about it. I prithee now sweet Son, as thou hast said My praises made thee first a Soldier; so To have my praise for this, perform a partly Thou hast not done before. At thy choice then: To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour, Then thou of them. Come all to ruin, let Thy Mother rather feel thy Pride, then fear Thy dangerous Stoutness: for I mock at death With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list, Thy Valiantness was mine, thou suckest it from me: But owe thy Pride thy self. Do your will. My first son, Whither will thou go? Take good Cominius With thee a while: Determine on some course More then a wild exposture, to each chance That start's in the way before thee. O you are well met: the hoarded plague of the Gods requited your love. If that I could for weeping, you should hear, Nay, and you shall hear some. Will you be gone? More Noble blows, then ever y u 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. Bastards, and all. Good man, the Wounds that he does bear for Room! I would he had? 'Twas you incensed the rabble. Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth, As I can of those Mysteries which heaven Will not have earth to know. Now pray sir get you gone. You have done a brave deed: Ere you go, hear this: As far as does the Capitol exceed The meanest house in Room; so far my Son This Ladies Husband here; this (do you see) Whom you have banished, does exceed you all. 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, come. O stand up blessed! Whilst with no softer Cushion then the Flint I kneel before thee, and unproperly Show duty as mistaken, all this while, Between the Child, and Parent. Thou art my Warrior, I hope to frame thee Do you know this Lady? This is a poor Epitome of yours, Which by the interpretation of full time, May show Like all your self. Even he, your wife, this Lady, and my self, Are Suitors to you. O no more, no more: You have said you will not grant us any thing: For we have nothing else to ask, but that Which you deny already: yet we will ask, That if you fail in our request, the blame May hang upon your hardness, therefore hear us. Should we be silent & not speak, our Raiment And state of Bodies would bewray what life We have led since thy Exile. Think with thy self, How more unfortunate then all living women Are we come hither; since that thy sighed, which should Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts, Constrains them weep, and shake with fear & sorrow, Making the Mother, wife, and Child to see, The Son, the Husband, and the Father tearing His Countries Bowels out; and to poor we Thine enmities most capital: Thou barrest us Our prayers to the Gods, which is a comfort That all but we enjoy. For how can we? Alas! how can we, for our Country pray? Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory: Whereto we are bound: Alack, or we must lose The Country our deer Nurse, or else thy person Our comfort in the Country. We must find And evident Calamity, though we had Our wish, which side should win. For either thou Must as a Foreign Recreant be led With Manacles through our streets, or else Triumphantly tread on thy Countries ruin, And bear the Palm, for having bravely shed Thy Wife and Children's blood: For my self, Son, I purpose not to wait on Fortune, till These wars determine: If I cannot persuade thee, Rather to show a Noble grace to both parts, Then seek the end of one; thou shalt no sooner March to assault thy Country, then to tread (Trust too't, thou shalt not) on thy Mother's womb That brought thee to this world. Nay, go not from us thus: If it were so, that our request did tend To save the Romans, thereby to destroy The Volces whom you serve, you might condemn us As poisonous of your Honour. No, our suit Is that you reconcile them: While the Volces May say, this mercy we have showed: the Romans, This we received, and each in either side Give the All-hail to thee, and cry be Blessed For making up this peace. Thou knowest (great Son) The end of Wars uncertain: but this certain, That if thou conquer Room, the benefit Which thou shalt thereby reap, is such a name Whose repetition will be dogged with Curses: Whose Chronicle thus writ, The man was Noble, But with his last Attempt, he wiped it out. Destroyed his Country, and his name remains To the ensuing Age, abhorred. Speak to me Son: Thou hast affected the five strains of Honour, To imitate the graces of the Gods. To tear with Thunder the wide Cheeks of the Air, And yet to change thy Sulphur with a Boult That should but rive and Oak. Why dost not speak? Thinkest thou it Honourable for a Nobleman Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speak you: He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou Boy, Perhaps thy childishness will move him more Then can our Reasons. There's no man in the world More bound to's Mother, yet here he let's me prate Like one in the Stocks. Thou hast never in thy life, Showed thy deer Mother any courtesy, When she (poor Hen) found of no second brood, Ha clocked thee to the Wars: and safely home Laden with Honour. Say my Request's unjust, And spurn me back: But, if it be not so Thou art not honest, and the Gods will plague thee That thou restrainest from me the Duty, which To a Mother's partly belongs. He turns away: Down Ladies: let us shame him with him with our knees To his surname Coriolanus longs more pride Then pity to our Prayers. Down: and end, This is the last. So, we will home to Room, And die among our Neighbours: Nay, behold's, This Boy that cannot tell what he would have, But kneels, and holds up hands for fellowship, Doe's reason our Petition with more strength Then thou hast to deny't. Come, let us go: This Fellow had a Volcean to his Mother: His Wife is in Corioles, and his Child Like him by chance: yet give us our dispatch: I am hushed until our City be afire, & then I'll speak a little I 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 Room Then thou hast spoken words. He'll Beatrice Auffidius head below his knee, And tread upon his neck. Sweet Madam. He had rather see the swords, and hear a Drum, then look upon his Schoolmaster. One on's Father's moods. Let her alone Lady, as she is now: She will but disease our better mirth. You might have been enough the man you are, With striving less to be so: Lesser had been The things of your dispositions, if You had not showed them how you were disposed Ere they lacked power to cross you. Now the Read Pestilence strike all Trades in Room, And Occupations perish. Hath been; is it ended then? Our State thinks not so, they are in a most warlike preparation, & hope to come upon them, in the heat of their division Coriolanus Banished? You will be welcome with this intelligence Ni canor. A most Royal one: The Centurions, and their charges distinctly billeted already in the entertainment, and to be on foot at and hours warning.