VOLUMNIA.
Indeed you shall not.
Methinks I hear hither your husband’s drum,
See him pluck Aufidius down by th’ 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 mailed hand then wiping, forth he goes
Like to a harvestman that’s tasked 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, looked 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 a Gentlewoman.
VALERIA.
My ladies both, good day to you.
VOLUMNIA.
Sweet madam.
VIRGILIA.
I am glad to see your Ladyship.