Part 69

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 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 breast of Hecuba, When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier Than Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood At Grecian swords contending. Tell Valeria We are fit to bid her welcome. [Exit Gent.

VIRGILIA.

Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!

VOLUMNIA.

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

This distinction between the two females is as interesting and beautiful as it is well sustained. Thus when the victory of Coriolanus is proclaimed, Menenius asks, "Is he wounded?"

VIRGILIA.

O no, no, no!

VOLUMNIA.

Yes, he is wounded--I thank the gods for it!

And when he returns victorious from the wars, his high-spirited mother receives him with blessings and applause--his gentle wife with "gracious silence" and with tears.

The resemblance of temper in the mother and the son, modified as it is by the difference of sex, and by her greater age and experience, is exhibited with admirable truth. Volumnia, with all her pride and spirit, has some prudence and self-command; in her language and deportment all is matured and matronly. The dignified tone of authority she assumes towards her son, when checking his headlong impetuosity, her respect and admiration for his noble qualities, and her strong sympathy even with the feelings she combats, are all displayed in the scene in which she prevails on him to soothe the incensed plebeians.

VOLUMNIA.

Pray be counsell'd: I have a heart as little apt as yours, But yet a brain that leads my use of anger To better vantage.

MENENIUS.

Well said, noble woman: Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but that The violent fit o' the time craves it as physic For the whole state, I would put mine armour on, Which I can scarcely bear.

CORIOLANUS.

What must I do?

MENENIUS.

Return to the tribunes.

CORIOLANUS.

Well. What then? what then?

MENENIUS.

Repent what you have spoke.