Rome. Before a Gate of the City. |
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Enter CORIOLANUS, VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, MENENIUS, COMINIUS, and several young Patricians. |
Cor. Come, leave your tears: a brief farewell: the beast |
With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother, |
Where is your ancient courage? you were us'd, |
To say extremity was the trier of spirits; |
That common chances common men could bear; |
That when the sea was calm all boats alike |
Show'd mastership in floating; fortune's blows, |
When most struck home, being gentle wounded, craves |
A noble cunning: you were us'd to load me |
With precepts that would make invincible |
The heart that conn'd them. |
Vir. O heavens! O heavens! |
Cor. Nay, I prithee, woman,— |
Vol. Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome, |
And occupations perish! |
Cor. What, what, what! |
I shall be lov'd when I am lack'd. Nay, mother, |
Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say, |
If you had been the wife of Hercules, |
Six of his labours you'd have done, and sav'd |
Your husband so much sweat. Cominius, |
Droop not; adieu. Farewell, my wife! my mother! |
I'll do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius, |
Thy tears are salter than a younger man's. |
And venomous to thine eyes. My sometime general, |
I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld |
Heart-hardening spectacles; tell these sad women |
'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes |
As 'tis to laugh at them. My mother, you wot well |
My hazards still have been your solace; and |
Believe 't not lightly,—though I go alone |
Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen |
Makes fear'd and talk'd of more than seen,—your son |
Will or exceed the common or be caught |
With cautelous baits and practice. |
Vol. My first son, |
Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius |
With thee awhile: determine on some course, |
More than a wild exposture to each chance |
That starts i' the way before thee. |
Cor. O the gods! |
Com. I'll follow thee a month, devise with thee |
Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us, |
And we of thee: so, if the time thrust forth |
A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send |
O'er the vast world to seek a single man, |
And lose advantage, which doth ever cool |
I' the absence of the needer. |
Cor. Fare ye well: |
Thou hast years upon thee; and thou art too full |
Of the wars' surfeits, to go rove with one |
That's yet unbruis'd: bring me but out at gate. |
Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and |
My friends of noble touch, when I am forth, |
Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come. |
While I remain above the ground you shall |
Hear from me still; and never of me aught |
But what is like me formerly. |
Men. That's worthily |
As any ear can hear. Come, let's not weep. |
If I could shake off but one seven years |
From these old arms and legs, by the good gods, |
I'd with thee every foot. |
Cor. Give me thy hand: |
Come. [Exeunt. |
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