The Tragedy of Coriolanus. Уильям Шекспир

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      Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!

      He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee,

      And tread upon his neck.

      My ladies both, good-day to you.

      Sweet madam.

      I am glad to see your ladyship.

      VALERIA. How do you both? you are manifest housekeepers. What are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good faith. – How does your little son?

      I thank your ladyship; well, good madam.

      VOLUMNIA. He had rather see the swords and hear a drum than look upon his schoolmaster.

      VALERIA. O' my word, the father's son: I'll swear 'tis a very pretty boy. O' my troth, I looked upon him o' Wednesday, half an hour together: has such a confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded butterfly; and when he caught it he let it go again; and after it again; and over and over he comes, and up again; catched it again; or whether his fall enraged him, or how 'twas, he did so set his teeth and tear it; O, I warrant, how he mammocked it!

      One on's father's moods.

      Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child.

      A crack, madam.

      VALERIA. Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play the idle huswife with me this afternoon.

      No, good madam; I will not out of doors.

      Not out of doors!

      She shall, she shall.

      VIRGILIA. Indeed, no, by your patience; I'll not over the threshold till my lord return from the wars.

      VALERIA. Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably; come, you must go visit the good lady that lies in.

      VIRGILIA. I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with my prayers; but I cannot go thither.

      Why, I pray you?

      'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love.

      VALERIA. You would be another Penelope; yet they say all the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence did but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come; I would your cambric were sensible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity. – Come, you shall go with us.

      No, good madam, pardon me; indeed I will not forth.

      VALERIA. In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you excellent news of your husband.

      O, good madam, there can be none yet.

      VALERIA. Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from him last night.

      Indeed, madam?

      VALERIA. In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it. Thus it is: – the Volsces have an army forth; against whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of our Roman power: your lord and Titus Lartius are set down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief wars. This is true, on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us.

      VIRGILIA. Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in everything hereafter.

      VOLUMNIA. Let her alone, lady; as she is now, she will but disease our better mirth.

      VALERIA. In troth, I think she would. – Fare you well, then. – Come, good sweet lady. – Pr'ythee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o' door and go along with us.

      No, at a word, madam; indeed I must not. I wish you much mirth.

      Well then, farewell.

      Yonder comes news: – a wager they have met.

      My horse to yours, no.

      'Tis done.

      Agreed.

      Say, has our general met the enemy?

      They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet.

      So, the good horse is mine.

      I'll buy him of you.

      No, I'll nor sell nor give him: lend you him I will

      For half a hundred years. – Summon the town.

      How far off lie these armies?

      Within this mile and half.

      Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they ours. —

      Now, Mars, I pr'ythee, make us quick in work,

      That we with smoking swords may march from hence

      To help our fielded friends! – Come, blow thy blast.

      Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls?

      No, nor a man that fears you less than he,

      That's lesser than a little.

      Hark, our drums

      Are bringing forth our youth! we'll break our walls

      Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates,

      Which yet seem shut, we have but pinn'd with rushes;

      They'll open of themselves.

      Hark you far off!

      There is Aufidius; list what work he makes

      Amongst your cloven army.

      O, they are at it!

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