介绍:
(Before him he carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears. Death, that dark spirit, in his nervy arm doth lie, which being advanced, declines, and then men die! )
No more of this, it dose offend my heart. Pray now, No more.
(Look, sir, your mother.)
You have, I know, petitions all the gods for my prosperity.
(Nay, my good soldier, up.)
My gracious siclence, hail. Wouldst thou have laughed had I come coffined home, that weep'st to see me triumph?
Ah, my dear, such eyes the widows in Corioles wear, and mothers that lack sons.
(Now, the gods crown thee.
)
And live you yet?
(Only there's one thing wanting, which I doubt not but that our Rome will cast upon thee.)
Know, good mother, I had rather be their servant in my way, than sway with them in theirs.
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