ALL.
Farewell.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. Rome. An apartment in Martius’ house
Enter Volumnia and Virgilia, mother and wife to Martius. 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 th’ 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 Martius, 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.