Cas. The morning comes upon 's: we'll leave you, And, friends, disperse yourselves; but all remember But bear it as our Roman actors do, [Exeunt all but BRUTUS. Boy! Lucius-Fast asleep? It is no matter; Por. Enter PORTIA. Brutus, my lord! Bru. Portia, what mean you? Wherefore rise you now? It is not for your health thus to commit Your weak condition to the raw cold morning. Por. Nor for yours neither. You have ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed: and yesternight, at supper, You suddenly arose, and walk'd about, Musing and sighing, with your arms across; I urg'd you farther; then, you scratch'd your head, But, with an angry wafture of your hand, Which seem'd too much enkindled; and, withal, VOL. VII. D Which sometime hath his hour with every man. Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all. Bru. Why, so I do.-Good Portia, go to bed. Bru. Kneel not, gentle Portia. Por. I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus. Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, Is it excepted, I should know no secrets To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed, And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs Of your good pleasure? If it be no more, Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife. Bru. You are my true and honourable wife; As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart. Por. If this were true, then should I know this secret. I grant, I am a woman; but, withal, A woman that lord Brutus took to wife: I grant, I am a woman; but, withal, Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose them. Giving myself a voluntary wound Here, in the thigh: can I bear that with patience, Bru. O ye gods! Render me worthy of this noble wife. [Knocking within. Hark, hark! one knocks. Portia, go in a while; And by and by thy bosom shall partake The secrets of my heart. All my engagements I will construe to thee, All the charactery of my sad brows. Leave me with haste. Enter LUCIUS and LIGARIUS. [Exit PORTIA. Lucius, who is that, knocks? Luc. Here is a sick man, that would speak with you. Bru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of. Boy, stand aside.-Caius Ligarius! how? Lig. Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue. Bru. O! what a time have you chose out, brave Caius, To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick! Lig. I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand Any exploit worthy the name of honour. Bru. Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius, Lig. By all the gods that Romans bow before, Yea, get the better of them. What's to do? Bru. A piece of work that will make sick men whole. Lig. But are not some whole that we must make sick? Bru. That must we also. Lig. What it is, my Caius, are going, Set on your foot, And with a heart new-fir'd I follow you, Bru. Follow me, then. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The Same. A Room in CESAR'S Palace. Thunder and Lightning. Enter CESAR, in his Nightgown. Cæs. Nor heaven, nor earth, have been at peace tonight: Thrice hath Calphurnia in her sleep cried out,. 66 Help, ho! They murder Cæsar!"-Who's within ? Serv. My lord. Enter a Servant. Cæs. Go bid the priests do present sacrifice, And bring me their opinions of success. Serv. I will, my lord. Enter CALPHURNIA. [Exit. Cal. What mean you, Cæsar? Think you to walk forth? You shall not stir out of your house to-day. Cæs. Cæsar shall forth: the things that threaten'd me, Ne'er look'd but on my back; when they shall see Cal. Cæsar, I never stood on ceremonies, And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead; The noise of battle hurtled in the air; And ghosts did shriek, and squeal about the streets. And I do fear them. Cæs. What can be avoided, Whose end is purpos'd by the mighty gods? Are to the world in general, as to Cæsar. Cal. When beggars die there are no comets seen; The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes. Cæs. Cowards die many times before their deaths, The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; |