BRUTUS.
They have ta’en note of us. Keep on your way.
VOLUMNIA.
O, you’re well met. The hoarded plague o’ th’ gods
Requite your love!
MENENIUS.
Peace, peace! Be not so loud.
VOLUMNIA.
If that I could for weeping, you should hear—
Nay, and you shall hear some. [To Sicinius.] Will you be gone?
VIRGILIA.
[To Brutus.] You shall stay too. I would I had the power
To say so to my husband.
SICINIUS.
Are you mankind?
VOLUMNIA.
Ay, fool, is that a shame? Note but this, fool.
Was not a man my father? Hadst thou foxship
To banish him that struck more blows for Rome
Than thou hast spoken words?
SICINIUS.
O blessed heavens!
VOLUMNIA.
More noble blows than ever thou wise words,
And for Rome’s good. I’ll tell thee what—yet go.
Nay, but thou shalt stay too. I would my son
Were in Arabia and thy tribe before him,
His good sword in his hand.
SICINIUS.
What then?