Loaden with honour. Say my request's unjust, 164
And spurn me back; but if it be not so,
Thou art not honest, and the gods will plague thee,
That thou restrain'st from me the duty which
To a mother's part belongs. He turns away: 168
Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees.
To his surname Coriolanus longs more pride
Than pity to our prayers. Down: an end;
This is the last; so we will home to Rome, 172
And die among our neighbours. Nay, behold 's,
This boy, that cannot tell what he would have,
But kneels and holds up hands for fellowship,
Does reason our petition with more strength 176
Than thou hast to deny 't. Come, let us go:
This fellow had a Volscian to his mother;
His wife is in Corioli, and his child
Like him by chance. Yet give us our dispatch: 180
I am hush'd until our city be a-fire,
And then I'll speak a little.
Cor. O, mother, mother!
Holds her by the hand silent.
What have you done? Behold! the heavens do ope,
The gods look down, and this unnatural scene 184
They laugh at. O my mother! mother! O!
You have won a happy victory to Rome;
But, for your son, believe it, O believe it,
Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd, 188
If not most mortal to him. But let it come.
Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars,
I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius,
166 honest: honorable
170 longs: belongs
175 for fellowship: to keep us company
176 Does . . . strength: has stronger arguments in favor of our petition
181 hush'd: silent
189 most mortal: with most mortal results
191 convenient: a fitting
