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SCENE changes to Caius Marcius's House
in Rome. Enter Volumnia and Virgilia; they fit down on tivo low
ftools, and sow. Vol. I Pray you, Daughter, sing, or express your self
l in a more comfortable sort: if my Son were my Husband, I would freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won honour, than in the embracements of his bed, where he would shew moft love, : When yec he was bụt 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 an hour from her beholding; I, considering how Honour would become such a perfon, that it was no better than picture-like to hang by th' wall, if Renown made it not ftir, was pleas’d to let him seek Danger where he was like 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 firft 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 profefs sincerely: had I a dozen Sons each in my love alike, and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius, I had rather 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 my self.
Vol. Indeed, thou shalt not:
Methinks, I see him stamp thus and call thus
Dir. His bloody brow! oh, Jupiter, no blood!
Vol. Away, you fool; it more becomes a man,
[Exit Gent. Vir. Heav'ns bless my Lord from fell Aufidius!
Vol. He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knce,
Enter Valeria with an Ufer, and a Gentlewoman.
Val. How do you Both ? you are manifest housekeepers. What are you sowing here? a finc 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 schoolmaster.
Val. O' my word, the Father's Son : I'll swear, 'tis a very pretty Boy. O' my troth, I look'd on him o' Wednesday half an hour together — h'as such a confirm'd countenance. I saw him run after a gilded bufe. terfly, and when he caught it, he let it go again; and after it again; and over and over he comes, and up again; and caught it again; or whether his Fall enrag'd him, or how 'twas, he did so set his teeth, and did tear it, oh, I warrant, how he mammocke it!
Vol. One of's Father's moods. -
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.
Vir. Indeed, no; by your patience ; I'll not over the threshold, 'till my Lord return from the wars.. · Val. Fie, you confine your self most unreasonably : Come, you must go visit the good Lady that lyes in.
Vir. I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with my prayers; but I cannot go thither.
Vol. Why, I pray you?
Val. You would be another Penelope ; yet they say, all the yarn, she spun in Ulysses's absence, did büt 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, la, go with me, and I'll tell you excellent news of your Husband.
Vir. Oh, 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 à Senator speak it. Thus it is -- the Volscians 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 my honour ; and so, I pray, go with
· Vir. Give me excuse, good Madam, I will obey you in every ching hereafter.
Vol. Let her alone, Lady; as she is now; she will but disease our better mirtb.
Val. In troth, I think, the would : fare you well, then. Come, good sweet Lady. Pr’ythee, Virgilia, VOL. VI.
turn thy Solempness 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 farewel.
SCENE changes to the Walls of Corioli. Enter Marcius, Titus Lartius, with Captains and Sol
diers: To them a Messenger. Mar. VOnder comes news: a wager, they have met.
1 Lart. My horse to yours, no. Mar. 'Tis done. Lart. Agreed. Mar. Say, has our General met the enemy? Mer. They lye 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 not féll, nor give him : lend him
you, I will,
Mar. How far off lye these armies?
Mar. Then shall we hear their larum, and they ours. Now, Mars, I pr’ythee, make us quick in work ; That we with smoaking swords may march from hence, To help our fielded Friends! Come, blow thy blast.
They found a Parley. Enter two Senators with others
on the Walls. Tullus Aufidius, is he within your Walls?
I Sen. No, nor a man that fears you less than he, That's lefser than a little : hark, our Drums
[Drum afar off. Are bringing forth our Youth: we'll break our Walls, Rather than they shall pound us up; our Gates, Which yet seem fhut, we have but pinn'd with rushes; They'll open of themselves. Hark you, far off
Arather than they mut, we hav Hark youAlarum familie
There is Aufidius. List, what work he makes
Mar. Oh, they are at it!
Enter the Volscians.
Titus, They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts Which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on, my,
fellows; He that retires, I'll take him for å Volscian, And he shall feel mine edge. [Alarum; the Romanis beat back to their Trenches.
Re-enter Marcius. Mar. (5) All the Contagion of the South light on . you, You Thames of Rome, you! herds of boils and plagues
herds of boils and plagues Plaifter you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd. Farther than feen, and one infect another . Against the wind a mile! - you fouls of geesen That bear the shapes of men, how have you run From Slaves, that apes would beat? Pluto and Hell ! All hurt behind, backs red, and faces pale, With flight, and agued fear! mend, and charge h Or by the fires of Heaven, I'll leave the Foe, And make my wars on you: look to't, come on; (5) All the Contagion of the South light on Yout,
Tou Shame's of Rome; you Hérds; of Boils and Plagues
Plaister you o'er, &c.] Thus miserably did the old Editors give us, this Passage mangled, by bad Pointing; and Mr. Pope would not indulge, his private Senfe, by any Alteration to make it intelligible. The meanest Judges of English must be aware, that no Member of any Sentence can begin with a Genitive Case, and a preceding Nominative be wanting to govern That and the Verb. Where, therefore, is the Nominative to,
of Boils and Plagues plaifer you o'er? Or what Sense or Syntax is there in the Passage, as it here stands ? I reform'd the Pointing in the Appendix to my SHAKESPEARE' Reffor’d, and Mr. Pope has vouchsafed to embrace my Correction in his lat Edition,