Vol. Look! Here's a letter from him; the state hath another, his wife another, and I think there's one at home for you.
Men. I will make my very house reel to night:—A letter for me?
The Wife. Yes, certainly, there a letter for you; I saw it.
Men. A letter for me! It gives me an estate of seven years' health; in which time I will make a lip at the physician … Is he not wounded? He was wont to come home wounded.
The Wife. Oh, no, no, no!
The Mother. Oh, he is wounded. I thank the gods for 't.
Men. So do I, too, if it be not too much:—Brings a victory in his pocket: The wounds become him.
Vol. On's brow, Menenius: he comes the third time home with the oaken garland.
Men…. Is the senate possessed of this?
Vol. Good ladies, let's go! Yes, yes, yes: the senate has letters from the general, wherein he gives my son the whole name of the war.