VOLUMNIA.

Away, you fool! it more becomes a man
Than gilt his trophy. The breast of Hecuba,
When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier
Than Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood
At Grecian swords contending. Tell Valeria
We are fit to bid her welcome. [_Exit Gent._

VIRGILIA.

Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!

VOLUMNIA.

He'll beat Aufidius's head below his knee.
And tread upon his neck.

This distinction between the two females is as interesting and beautiful
as it is well sustained. Thus when the victory of Coriolanus is
proclaimed, Menenius asks, "Is he wounded?"

VIRGILIA.

O no, no, no!

VOLUMNIA.

Yes, he is wounded--I thank the gods for it!

And when he returns victorious from the wars, his high-spirited mother
receives him with blessings and applause--his gentle wife with "gracious
silence" and with tears.

The resemblance of temper in the mother and the son, modified as it is
by the difference of sex, and by her greater age and experience, is
exhibited with admirable truth. Volumnia, with all her pride and spirit,
has some prudence and self-command; in her language and deportment all
is matured and matronly. The dignified tone of authority she assumes
towards her son, when checking his headlong impetuosity, her respect and
admiration for his noble qualities, and her strong sympathy even with
the feelings she combats, are all displayed in the scene in which she
prevails on him to soothe the incensed plebeians.

VOLUMNIA.

Pray be counsell'd:
I have a heart as little apt as yours,
But yet a brain that leads my use of anger
To better vantage.

MENENIUS.

Well said, noble woman:
Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but that
The violent fit o' the time craves it as physic
For the whole state, I would put mine armour on,
Which I can scarcely bear.

CORIOLANUS.

What must I do?

MENENIUS.

Return to the tribunes.

CORIOLANUS.

Well.
What then? what then?

MENENIUS.

Repent what you have spoke.