VIRGILIA. Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!
VOLUMNIA. He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee
And tread upon his neck.
Re-enter GENTLEWOMAN, With VALERIA and an usher
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 housekeepers. 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 schoolmaster.
VALERIA. O' my word, the father's son! I'll swear 'tis a very
pretty boy. O' my troth, I look'd upon him a Wednesday half
an
hour together; has such a confirm'd 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 up
again, catch'd it again; or whether his fall enrag'd him, or
how
'twas, he did so set his teeth and tear it. O, I warrant, how
he
mammock'd 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 huswife 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
everything
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
SCENE IV. Before Corioli
Enter MARCIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, with drum and colours, with CAPTAINS and soldiers. To them a MESSENGER
MARCIUS. Yonder comes news; a wager- they have met.
LARTIUS. My horse to yours- no.
MARCIUS. 'Tis done.
LARTIUS. Agreed.
MARCIUS. Say, has our general met the enemy?
MESSENGER. They lie in view, but have not spoke as yet.
LARTIUS. So, the good horse is mine.
MARCIUS. I'll buy him of you.
LARTIUS. No, I'll nor sell nor give him; lend you him I will
For half a hundred years. Summon the town.
MARCIUS. How far off lie these armies?
MESSENGER. Within this mile and half.
MARCIUS. Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they ours.
Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work,
That we with smoking swords may march from hence
To help our fielded friends! Come, blow thy blast.
Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls?
FIRST SENATOR. No, nor a man that fears you less than he:
That's lesser than a little. [Drum afar off] Hark, our
drums
Are bringing forth our youth. We'll break our walls
Rather than they shall pound us up; our gates,
Which yet seem shut, we have but pinn'd with rushes;
They'll open of themselves. [Alarum