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    Act 1. Scene III

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    SCENE III. Rome. A room in Marcius' house.

    Enter VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA they set them down on two low stools, and sew
    VOLUMNIA
    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 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.

    VIRGILIA
    But had he died in the business, madam; how then?

    VOLUMNIA
    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

    Gentlewoman
    Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you.

    VIRGILIA
    Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.

    VOLUMNIA
    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 task'd to mow
    Or all or lose his hire.

    VIRGILIA
    His bloody brow! O Jupiter, no blood!

    VOLUMNIA
    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
    Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood
    At Grecian sword, contemning. Tell Valeria,
    We are fit to bid her welcome.

    Exit Gentlewoman

    VIRGILIA
    Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!


    VOLUMNIA
    He'll beat Aufidius 'head below his knee
    And tread upon his neck.

    Enter VALERIA, with an Usher and Gentlewoman

    VALERIA
    My ladies both, good day to you.

    VOLUMNIA
    Sweet madam.

    VIRGILIA
    I am glad to see your ladyship.
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