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 shorten'd in our aim; which was,

To take in many towns, ere, almost, Rome
Should know we were afoot.

2 Sen.

Noble Aufidius,

Take your commission; hie you to your bands:
Let us alone to guard Corioli:

If they set down before us, for the remove
Bring up your army; but, I think, you'll find
They have not prepar'd for us.

Auf.
O, doubt not that;
I speak from certainties. Nay, more.

Some parcels of their powers are forth already,
And only hitherward. I leave your honours.
If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet,
"Tis sworn between us, we shall never strike
Till one can do no more.

Enter VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA: They sit down on two low Stools, and sew.

Vol. I pray you, daughter, sing; or express yourself in a more comfortable sort: If my son

6 To subdue.

were my husband, I should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won honour, than in the embracements where he would show most love. When yet he was but tender-bodied, and was my only son; 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.

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

Vol. 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.

Gent. Madam, the lady Valeria is come to visit you.

Vir. Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.
Vol. 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 Volces shunning him:
Methinks, I see him stamp thus, and call thus,
Come on, you cowards, you were born in fear,
Though you were born in Rome: His bloody brow

With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he
Like to a harvest-man, that's task'd to mow
Or all, or lose his hire.

goes;

Vir. His bloody brow! O, Jupiter, no blood! Vol. 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 Then Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood At Grecian swords' contending. Tell Valeria, We are fit to bid her welcome. [Exit Gent. Vir. Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius! Vol. He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee, And tread upon his neck.

Re-enter Gentlewoman, with VALERIA and her Usher.

Val. My ladies both, good day to you.
Vol. Sweet madam,

Vir. I am glad to see your ladyship.

Val. How do you do both? you are manifest housekeepers. What are you sewing here! A fine spot, in good faith.- How does your little son?

Vir. I thank your ladyship: well, good madam. Vol. He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, than look upon his school-master.

Val. O' my word, the father's son: I'll swear 'tis a very pretty boy. I looked upon him o' Wednesday half an hour together: he 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 up 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, how he mammocked it!

Vol. One of his father's moods.

Val. Indeed, 'tis a noble child.

Vir. A crack ", madam.

Val. Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play the idle huswife with me this afternoon. Vir. No, good madam: I will not out of doors. Val. Not out of doors!

Vol. She shall, she shall.

Vir. Indeed, no, by your patience: I will not over the threshold, till my lord return from the

wars.

Val. Fye, you confine yourself most unreasonably;

Come, you must go visit the good lady that lies in.
Vir. I will wish her speedy strength, and visit
her with my prayers; but I cannot go thither.
Vol. Why, I pray you?

Vir. 'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love. Val. 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 cambrick were sensible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us.

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

Val. In truth go with me; and I'll tell you excellent news of your husband.

Vir. O, good madam, there can be none yet. Val. Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from him last night.

Vir. Indeed, madam?

Val. 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.

Vir. Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every thing hereafter.

Vol. Let her alone, lady; as she is now, she will but disease our better mirth.

Val. In troth, I think she would: well then.

- Fare you

Come, good sweet lady.- Pr'ythee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o'door, and go along with us.

Vir. No: at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish you much mirth.

Val. Well, then, farewell.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Before Corioli.

Enter with Drum and Colours, MARCIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, Officers and Soldiers. To them a Mes

senger.

Mar. Yonder comes news.-A wager, they have

met.

Lart. My horse to yours, no.

Mar.

Lart.

'Tis done.

Agreed.

Mar. Say, has our general met the enemy?
Mess. They lie in view, but have not spoke as yet.
Lart. So the good horse is mine.

Mar.

I'll buy him of you.

Lart. No, I'll nor sell, nor give him: lend you

him I will,

For half a hundred years.- Summon the town.
Mar. How far off lie these armies?

Mess.

Within this mile and half. Mar. Then shall we hear their larum, and they

ours.

Now, Mars, I pr'ythee make us quick in work; That we with smoking swords may march from hence.

To help our fielded friends!-Come, blow thy blast.