3. SCENE III. Rome. An apartmnet in MARCIUS' house.
[Enter VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA; they sit down on two low stools and
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 pleased to let him seek danger
where he was 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.
But had he died in the business, madam? how then?
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.]
Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you.
Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.
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 tasked to mow
Or all, or lose his hire.