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Volumnia complete text
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| Volumnia. I pray you, daughter, sing; or express yourself in a | 1.3.1
| more comfortable sort: if my son were my husband, I | 1.3.2
| should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he | 1.3.3
| won honour than in the embracements of his bed where | 1.3.4
| he would show most love. When yet he was but | 1.3.5
| tender-bodied and the only son of my womb, when | 1.3.6
| youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way, when | 1.3.7
| for a day of kings' entreaties a mother should not | 1.3.8
| sell him an hour from her beholding, I, considering | 1.3.9
| how honour would become such a person. that it was | 1.3.10
| no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if | 1.3.11
| renown made it not stir, was pleased to let him seek | 1.3.12
| danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel | 1.3.13
| war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows | 1.3.14
| bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not | 1.3.15
| more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child | 1.3.16
| than now in first seeing he had proved himself a | 1.3.17
| man. | 1.3.18
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| Volumnia. These are the ushers of Marcius: before him he | 2.1.154
| carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears: | 2.1.155
| Death, that dark spirit, in 's nervy arm doth lie; | 2.1.156
| Which, being advanced, declines, and then men die. | 2.1.157
A sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter COMINIUS the general, and TITUS LARTIUS; between them, CORIOLANUS, crowned with an oaken garland; with Captains and Soldiers, and a Herald
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| Volumnia. Because that now it lies you on to speak | 3.2.67
| To the people; not by your own instruction, | 3.2.68
| Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you, | 3.2.69
| But with such words that are but rooted in | 3.2.70
| Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables | 3.2.71
| Of no allowance to your bosom's truth. | 3.2.72
| Now, this no more dishonours you at all | 3.2.73
| Than to take in a town with gentle words, | 3.2.74
| Which else would put you to your fortune and | 3.2.75
| The hazard of much blood. | 3.2.76
| I would dissemble with my nature where | 3.2.77
| My fortunes and my friends at stake required | 3.2.78
| I should do so in honour: I am in this, | 3.2.79
| Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles; | 3.2.80
| And you will rather show our general louts | 3.2.81
| How you can frown than spend a fawn upon 'em, | 3.2.82
| For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard | 3.2.83
| Of what that want might ruin. | 3.2.84
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| Volumnia. I prithee now, my son, | 3.2.89
| Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand; | 3.2.90
| And thus far having stretch'd it--here be with them-- | 3.2.91
| Thy knee bussing the stones--for in such business | 3.2.92
| Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant | 3.2.93
| More learned than the ears--waving thy head, | 3.2.94
| Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart, | 3.2.95
| Now humble as the ripest mulberry | 3.2.96
| That will not hold the handling: or say to them, | 3.2.97
| Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils | 3.2.98
| Hast not the soft way which, thou dost confess, | 3.2.99
| Were fit for thee to use as they to claim, | 3.2.100
| In asking their good loves, but thou wilt frame | 3.2.101
| Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far | 3.2.102
| As thou hast power and person. | 3.2.103
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| Volumnia. Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment | 5.3.105
| And state of bodies would bewray what life | 5.3.106
| We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself | 5.3.107
| How more unfortunate than all living women | 5.3.108
| Are we come hither: since that thy sight, | 5.3.109
| which should | 5.3.110
| Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance | 5.3.111
| with comforts, | 5.3.112
| Constrains them weep and shake with fear and sorrow; | 5.3.113
| Making the mother, wife and child to see | 5.3.114
| The son, the husband and the father tearing | 5.3.115
| His country's bowels out. And to poor we | 5.3.116
| Thine enmity's most capital: thou barr'st us | 5.3.117
| Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort | 5.3.118
| That all but we enjoy; for how can we, | 5.3.119
| Alas, how can we for our country pray. | 5.3.120
| Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory, | 5.3.121
| Whereto we are bound? alack, or we must lose | 5.3.122
| The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person, | 5.3.123
| Our comfort in the country. We must find | 5.3.124
| An evident calamity, though we had | 5.3.125
| Our wish, which side should win: for either thou | 5.3.126
| Must, as a foreign recreant, be led | 5.3.127
| With manacles thorough our streets, or else | 5.3.128
| triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin, | 5.3.129
| And bear the palm for having bravely shed | 5.3.130
| Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son, | 5.3.131
| I purpose not to wait on fortune till | 5.3.132
| These wars determine: if I cannot persuade thee | 5.3.133
| Rather to show a noble grace to both parts | 5.3.134
| Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner | 5.3.135
| March to assault thy country than to tread-- | 5.3.136
| Trust to't, thou shalt not--on thy mother's womb, | 5.3.137
| That brought thee to this world. | 5.3.138
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| Volumnia. Nay, go not from us thus. | 5.3.147
| If it were so that our request did tend | 5.3.148
| To save the Romans, thereby to destroy | 5.3.149
| The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us, | 5.3.150
| As poisonous of your honour: no; our suit | 5.3.151
| Is that you reconcile them: while the Volsces | 5.3.152
| May say 'This mercy we have show'd;' the Romans, | 5.3.153
| 'This we received;' and each in either side | 5.3.154
| Give the all-hail to thee and cry 'Be blest | 5.3.155
| For making up this peace!' Thou know'st, great son, | 5.3.156
| The end of war's uncertain, but this certain, | 5.3.157
| That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit | 5.3.158
| Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name, | 5.3.159
| Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses; | 5.3.160
| Whose chronicle thus writ: 'The man was noble, | 5.3.161
| But with his last attempt he wiped it out; | 5.3.162
| Destroy'd his country, and his name remains | 5.3.163
| To the ensuing age abhorr'd.' Speak to me, son: | 5.3.164
| Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour, | 5.3.165
| To imitate the graces of the gods; | 5.3.166
| To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' the air, | 5.3.167
| And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt | 5.3.168
| That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak? | 5.3.169
| Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man | 5.3.170
| Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speak you: | 5.3.171
| He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy: | 5.3.172
| Perhaps thy childishness will move him more | 5.3.173
| Than can our reasons. There's no man in the world | 5.3.174
| More bound to 's mother; yet here he lets me prate | 5.3.175
| Like one i' the stocks. Thou hast never in thy life | 5.3.176
| Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy, | 5.3.177
| When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood, | 5.3.178
| Has cluck'd thee to the wars and safely home, | 5.3.179
| Loaden with honour. Say my request's unjust, | 5.3.180
| And spurn me back: but if it be not so, | 5.3.181
| Thou art not honest; and the gods will plague thee, | 5.3.182
| That thou restrain'st from me the duty which | 5.3.183
| To a mother's part belongs. He turns away: | 5.3.184
| Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees. | 5.3.185
| To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride | 5.3.186
| Than pity to our prayers. Down: an end; | 5.3.187
| This is the last: so we will home to Rome, | 5.3.188
| And die among our neighbours. Nay, behold 's: | 5.3.189
| This boy, that cannot tell what he would have | 5.3.190
| But kneels and holds up bands for fellowship, | 5.3.191
| Does reason our petition with more strength | 5.3.192
| Than thou hast to deny 't. Come, let us go: | 5.3.193
| This fellow had a Volscian to his mother; | 5.3.194
| His wife is in Corioli and his child | 5.3.195
| Like him by chance. Yet give us our dispatch: | 5.3.196
| I am hush'd until our city be a-fire, | 5.3.197
| And then I'll speak a little. | 5.3.198
He holds her by the hand, silent
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