Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius,
Though Marcius earn'd them not; and all his faults
To Marcius shall be honours, though indeed
In aught he merit not.
SICINIUS. Let's hence and hear
How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion,
More than his singularity, he goes
Upon this present action.
BRUTUS. Let's along. Exeunt
SCENE II. Corioli. The Senate House
Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS with SENATORS of Corioli
FIRST SENATOR. So, your opinion is, Aufidius,
That they of Rome are ent'red in our counsels
And know how we proceed.
AUFIDIUS. Is it not yours?
What ever have been thought on in this state
That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome
Had circumvention? 'Tis not four days gone
Since I heard thence; these are the words- I think
I have the letter here; yes, here it is:
[Reads] 'They have press'd a power, but it is not known
Whether for east or west. The dearth is great;
The people mutinous; and it is rumour'd,
Cominius, Marcius your old enemy,
Who is of Rome worse hated than of you,
And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman,
These three lead on this preparation
Whither 'tis bent. Most likely 'tis for you;
Consider of it.'
FIRST SENATOR. Our army's in the field;
We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready
To answer us.
AUFIDIUS. Nor did you think it folly
To keep your great pretences veil'd till when
They needs must show themselves; which in the hatching,
It seem'd, appear'd to Rome. By the discovery
We shall be short'ned in our aim, which was
To take in many towns ere almost Rome
Should know we were afoot.
SECOND SENATOR. Noble Aufidius,
Take your commission; hie you to your bands;
Let us alone to guard Corioli.
If they set down before's, for the remove
Bring up your army; but I think you'll find
Th' have not prepar'd for us.
AUFIDIUS. O, doubt not that!
I speak from certainties. Nay more,
Some parcels of their power are forth already,
And only hitherward. I leave your honours.
If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet,
'Tis sworn between us we shall ever strike
Till one can do no more.
ALL. The gods assist you!
AUFIDIUS. And keep your honours safe!
FIRST SENATOR. Farewell.
SECOND SENATOR. Farewell.
ALL. Farewell. Exeunt
SCENE III. Rome. MARCIUS' house
Enter VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA, mother and wife to MARCIUS; 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 pluck'd 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 th' wall,
if
renown made it not stir- was pleas'd to let him seek danger
where
he was to find fame. To a cruel war I sent him, from whence
he
return'd 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 th' 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