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Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood |
At Grecian sword, contemning. Tell Valeria, |
We are fit to bid her welcome. |
VIRGILIA: |
Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius! |
VOLUMNIA: |
He'll beat Aufidius 'head below his knee |
And tread upon his neck. |
VALERIA: |
My ladies both, good day to you. |
VOLUMNIA: |
Sweet madam. |
VIRGILIA: |
I am glad to see your ladyship. |
VALERIA: |
How do you both? you are manifest house-keepers. |
What are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good |
faith. How does your little son? |
VIRGILIA: |
I thank your ladyship; well, good madam. |
VOLUMNIA: |
He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, than |
look upon his school-master. |
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 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 it, how he mammocked |
it! |
VOLUMNIA: |
One on 's father's moods. |
VALERIA: |
Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child. |
VIRGILIA: |
A crack, madam. |
VALERIA: |
Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play |
the idle husewife with me this afternoon. |
VIRGILIA: |
No, good madam; I will not out of doors. |
VALERIA: |
Not out of doors! |
VOLUMNIA: |
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. |
VOLUMNIA: |
Why, I pray you? |
VIRGILIA: |
'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. |
VIRGILIA: |
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. |
VIRGILIA: |
O, good madam, there can be none yet. |