Caius Marcius Coriolanus

Plutarch

Plutarch. Plutarch's Lives, Vol. IV. Perrin, Bernadotte, translator. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press; London: William Heinemann Ltd., 1916.

Arise, come with us to Marcius, and join with us in supplicating him, bearing this just and true testimony in behalf of your country, that, although she has suffered much wrong at his hands, she has neither done nor thought of doing harm to you, in her auger, but restores you to him, even though she is destined to obtain no equitable treatment at his hands.

These words of Valeria were seconded by the cries of the other women with her, and Volumnia gave them this answer:— O women, not only have we an equal share with you in the common calamities, but we have an additional misery of our own, in that we have lost the fame and virtue of Marcius, and see his person protected in command, rather than preserved from death, by the arms of our enemies. And yet it is the greatest of our misfortunes that our native city is become so utterly weak as to place her hopes in us.

For I know not whether the man will have any regard for us, since he has none for his country, which he once set before mother and wife and children. However, take us and use us and bring us to him; if we can do nothing else, we can at least breathe out our lives in supplications for our country.

After this, she took the children and Vergilia and went with the other women to the camp of the Volscians. The sight of them, and the pitifulness of it, produced even in their enemies reverence and silence. Now it chanced that Marcius was seated on a tribunal with his chief officers.

When, accordingly, he saw the women approaching, he was amazed; and when he recognized his mother, who walked at their head, he would fain have persisted in his previous inflexible and implacable course, but, mastered by his feelings, and confounded at what he saw, he could not endure to remain seated while they approached him, but descended quickly from the tribunal and ran to meet them. He saluted his mother first, and held her a long time in his embrace, and then his wife and children, sparing now neither tears nor caresses, but suffering himself as it were to be borne away by a torrent of emotion.