Coriolanus

Please, my daughter-in-law, sing or express yourself more cheerfully. If my son were my husband, I would be happier with him away winning honors than lovingly embracing me in bed. Before he was full grown, when he was still my only child, when he was boyishly handsome and attracting much attention, when even if the king begged me I shouldn’t have let him out of my sight for an hour, I considered how honored he would become, and that unless he were inspired to make a name for himself, he would be no better than a picture hanging on the wall, so I happily let him face danger, because that’s how he was likely to find fame. I sent him to a cruel war from which he returned crowned with garlands of oak. I tell you, daughter-in-law, I jumped for joy more to see that he had proven himself as a man than I did when I first heard he was a boy child.

But if had he died in the war, madam, how would you feel then?

Then his noble deeds would have been my son—in them I would have found my legacy. Listen to me seriously: if I had a dozen sons and loved them equally, as much as I love our Martius, I would rather that eleven of them die nobly for their country than one choose the pleasures of making love over doing his duty.

(to Volumnia) Madam, the Lady Valeria has come to see you.

May I please be excused to have some time alone?

No, you may not. I think I hear your husband’s drum coming toward us. He must have plucked out all Aufidius’ hairs so the Volsces will avoid him the way children run from a bear. I think I see him stamping like this, and calling like this: “Come on, you cowards! You were born in fear even though you were born in Rome.” He’s wiping his bloody forehead with his armored hand. He’s unrelenting like a laborer who must harvest a whole field or not be paid at all.

His bloody forehead! Oh, Jupiter, king of the gods, not blood!

Don’t be foolish! Blood belongs on a man more than gold belongs on his trophy. When Hecuba suckled Hector, her breasts were no lovelier than Hector’s forehead when a Grecian sword struck it and it gushed furiously with blood. Tell Valeria that we welcome her in.

Heavens protect my husband from the deadly Aufidius!

He’ll beat Aufidius’ head down below his knees and then stand on his neck.

My ladies, good day to you both.

Sweet madam.

I’m glad to see you, your ladyship.

How are you both? You are remarkable house-keepers.

(to Volumnia) What are you sewing here? It looks like fine embroidery.

(to Virgilia) How is your little son?

Thank you, your ladyship. He’s fine, good madam.

He’d rather see the soldiers and hear a drum than do his schoolwork.

It’s true, he’s his father’s son. He’s a very good-looking boy. I spent half an hour with him on Wednesday. He is so determined. I saw him run after a golden butterfly, and when he caught it, he let it go and then went after it again. He fell down and got back up and again he caught the butterfly. I don’t know whether his fall enraged him or what, but he clenched his teeth and tore it. I tell you, he ripped it apart!

He has his father’s moods.

Indeed, dear, he’s a noble child.

He’s devilish, madam.

Set aside your stitching. Pretend to be an idle housewife with me this afternoon.

No, good madam. I can’t go out today.

Can’t go out?

She will, she will.

No. Please let me stay in. I won’t cross the threshold until my husband returns from the war.

You’re being unreasonable to confine yourself. Come, you must go visit our neighbor, who’s expecting a baby.

I wish her an easy birth and send her my prayers, but I can’t go see her.

Why not?

It’s not because I’m lazy or don’t care for her.

You’re like another Penelope, except they say that all the yarn she spun in Ulysses’ absence only filled Ithaca with moths. I wish your embroidery cloth were as sensitive as your finger, that way you might take pity on it and stop pricking it. Come with us.

No, good madam, please excuse me. I won’t go.

Truly, come with me, and I’ll tell you excellent news about your husband.

Oh, good madam, there can’t be good news yet.

I’m not kidding you. News came from him last night.

Really, madam?

Yes, it’s true. I heard a senator talking. He said Cominius the general is leading one part of our Roman army against the oncoming Volsces. Your husband and Titus Lartius are attacking their city Corioles. They have no doubt that they’ll win and that the battle won’t last long. On my honor, this news is true. Please come out with us.

Forgive me, good madam. I’ll do as you say from now on.

(to Valeria) Let her stay home, lady. The way she is now, she’ll only detract from our celebration.

I think you’re right—she will. Cheer up then, good sweet lady. Please, Virgilia, shake off your sad mood and come out with us.

No. In a word, madam, I simply can’t. I wish you much happiness.

Well then, goodbye.