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In supplication nod: and my young boy
Hath an aspect of intercession, which
Great nature cries, Deny not.-Let the Volces
Plough Rome, and harrow Italy; I'll never
Be such a gosling to obey instinct; but stand,
As if a man were author of himself,

And knew no other kin.

My lord and husband!

Virg. Cor. These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome. Virg. 64 The sorrow, that delivers us thus chang'd, Makes you think so.

Cor.

Like a dull actor now,
I have forgot my part, and I am out,
Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh,
Forgive my tyranny; but do not say,
For that, Forgive our Romans.—O, a kiss
Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge!
Now by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss
I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip
Hath virgin'd it e'er since.-You gods! I prate,
And the most noble mother of the world
Leave unsaluted: Sink, my knee, i'the earth;

Of thy deep duty more impression show
Than that of common sons.

Vol.

[kneels.

O, stand up bless'd!

Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint,

I kneel before thee; and unproperly

Show duty, as mistaken all this while

Between the child and parent.

[kneels.

Cor.

What is this?

Your knees to me? to your corrected son?
Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach
Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds
Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun;
Murd'ring impossibility, to make
What cannot be, slight work.

Vol.

Thou art my warrior;

I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady?
Cor. The noble sister of Publicola,

The moon of Rome; chaste as the icicle,
That's curded by the frost from purest snow,
And hangs on Dian's temple: Dear Valeria!
Vol. This a poor epitome of yours,

Which by the interpretation of full time
May show like all yourself.

Cor.

The god of soldiers,

With the consent of supreme Jove, inform

Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou may'st prove

To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' the wars

Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw 65,
And saving those that eye thee!

Vol.

Cor. That's my brave boy.

Your knee, sirrah.

Vol. Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself, Are suitors to you.

Cor.

I beseech you, peace:

Or, if you'd ask, remember this before;

The things, I have forsworn to grant, may never

Be held by you denials. Do not bid me

Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate

Again with Rome's mechanicks:-Tell me not
Wherein I seem unnatural: Desire not

To allay my rages and revenges, with
Your colder reasons.

Vol.

O, no more, no more!

You have said, you will not grant us any thing;
For we have nothing else to ask, but that
Which you deny already: Yet we will ask;
That, if you fail in our request, the blame
May hang upon your hardness: therefore hear us.
Cor. Aufidius, and you Volces, mark; for we'll
Hear nought from Rome in private.-Your request?
Vol. Should we be silent and not speak, our rai-

ment,

And state of bodies would bewray what life

We have led since thy exíle.

Think with thyself,

How more unfortunate than all living women

Are we come hither: since that thy sight, which

should

Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with com

forts,

Constrains them weep, and shake with fear and sor

row;

Making the mother, wife, and child, to see
The son, the husband, and the father, tearing
His country's bowels out. And to poor we,
Thine enmity's most capital: thou barr'st us
Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort
That all but we enjoy: For how can we,

Alas! how can we for our country pray,

Whereto we are bound; together with thy victory,
Whereto we are bound? Alack! or we must lose
The country, our dear nurse; or else thy person,
Our comfort in the country. We must find
An evident calamity, though we had

Our wish, which side should win: for either thou
Must, as a foreign recreant, be led

With manacles thorough our streets; or else
Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin;
And bear the palm, for having bravely shed
Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son,
I purpose not to wait on fortune, till

These wars determine: if I cannot persuade thee
Rather to show a noble grace to both parts,
Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner
March to assault thy country, than to tread
(Trust to't, thou shalt not,) on thy mother's womb,
That brought thee to this world.

Virg,
Ay, and on mine,
That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name
Living to time.

Boy,

He shall not tread on me;

I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I'll fight.

Cor. Not of a woman's tenderness to be, Requires nor child nor woman's face to see. I have sat too long.

[rising.

Vol.
Nay, go not from us thus,
If it were so, that our request did tend
To save the Romans, thereby to destroy

The Volces whom you serve, you might condemn us,
As poisonous of your honour: No; our suit
Is, that you reconcile them: while the Volces
May say, This mercy we have show'd; the Romans,
This we receiv'd; and each in either side
Give the all-hail to thee, and cry, Be bless'd
For making up this peace! Thou know'st, great son,
The end of war's uncertain; but this certain,
That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit
Which thou shalt thereby reap, is such a name,
Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses;
Whose chronicle thus writ,-The man was noble,
But with his last attempt he wip'd it out;
Destroy'd his country; and his name remains
To the ensuing age, abhorr'd. Speak to me, son:
Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour,
To imitate the graces of the gods;

To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' the air,
66 And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt
That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak?
Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man
Still to remember wrongs?-Daughter, speak you:
He cares not for your weeping.-Speak thou, boy;
Perhaps, thy childishness will move him more
Than can our reasons.-There is no man in the world
More bound to his mother; yet here he lets me prate,
Like one i' the stocks. Thou hast never in thy life
Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy;
When she, (poor hen !) fond of no second brood,
Has cluck'd thee to the wars, and safely home,

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