Vir. O heavens! O heavens!
Cor. Nay, I prithee, woman,—[3421]
Vol. Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome,
And occupations perish!
Cor. What, what, what!
I shall be loved when I am lack'd. Nay, mother, 15
Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say,
If you had been the wife of Hercules,
Six of his labours you'ld have done, and saved
Your husband so much sweat. Cominius,
Droop not; adieu. Farewell, my wife, my mother: 20
I'll do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius,
Thy tears are salter than a younger man's,
And venomous to thine eyes. My sometime general,
I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld[3422]
Heart-hardening spectacles; tell these sad women, 25
'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes,
As 'tis to laugh at 'em. My mother, you wot well[3423]
My hazards still have been your solace: and
Believe 't not lightly—though I go alone,
Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen[3424] 30
Makes fear'd and talk'd of more than seen—your son
Will or exceed the common, or be caught[3425]
With cautelous baits and practice.
Vol. My first son,[3426]
Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius[3427]
With thee awhile: determine on some course,[3428] 35
More than a wild exposture to each chance[3429]
That starts i' the way before thee.
Cor. O the gods![3430]
Com. I'll follow thee a month, devise with thee
Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us
And we of thee: so, if the time thrust forth 40
A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send
O'er the vast world to seek a single man,
And lose advantage, which doth ever cool
I' the absence of the needer.[3431]
Cor. Fare ye well:
Thou hast years upon thee; and thou art too full[3432] 45
Of the wars' surfeits, to go rove with one[3433]
That's yet unbruised: bring me but out at gate.
Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and
My friends of noble touch, when I am forth,
Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come. 50
While I remain above the ground, you shall
Hear from me still, and never of me aught
But what is like me formerly.
Men. That's worthily
As any ear can hear. Come, let's not weep.
If I could shake off but one seven years 55
From these old arms and legs, by the good gods,
I'ld with thee every foot.
Cor. Give me thy hand:
Come. [Exeunt.[3434]