He fays he does; being then moft flattered.
Leave me to work

For I can give his humcur the true bent ;.
And I will bring him to the Capitol,

Caf. Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him:
Bru. By the eighth hour, is that the uttermoft
Cin. Be that the uttermoit, and fail not then.
Met. Caius Ligarius doth bear Cafar hatred,
Who rated him for fpeaking well of Pompey;
I wonder none of you have thought of him.

Bru. Now, good Metellus, go along to him:
He loves me well; and I have giv'n him reafons
Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him.

Caf. The morning comes upon's; we'll leave you, Brutus And, friends difperfe your felves; but all remember What you have faid, and fhew your felves true Romans. Bru. Good Gentlemen, look fresh and merrily; Let not our looks put on our purposes, But bear it as our Roman actors do, With untir'd fpirits, and formal conftancy; And fo good-morrow to you every one.

Manet Brutus.

Boy! Lucius ? faft afleep it is no matter,
Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of flumber;
Thou haft no figures, nor no fantafies,

Which bufie care draws in the brains of men ;
Therefore thou fleep'ft fo found.

SCENE III. Enter Portia.

Per. Brutus, my Lord ?

[Exeunt.

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've ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed: and yesternight at supper

You fuddenly arose and walk'd about,
Mufing, and fighing, with your arms a-cross ;
And when I afk'd you what the matter was,
You ftar'd upon me with ungentle looks.

I urg'd you further, then you fcratch'd your head,
And too impatiently amp'd with your foot:

Yet I infifted, yet you answer'd not,
But with an angry wafture of your hand
Gave fign for me to leave you: fo I did,
Fearing to ftrengthen that impatience,

Which feem'd too much inkindled; and withal,
Hoping it was but an effect of humour,

Which fometime hath his hour with every man.
It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor fleep;
And could it work fo much upon your shape,
As it hath much prevail'd on your condition,
I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my Lord,
Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.

Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all. Por. Brutus is wife, and were he not in health; He would embrace the means to come by it.

Bru. Why, fo I do : good Portia, go to bed.
Por. Is Brutus fick, and is it physical
To walk unbraced, and fuck up the humours
Of the dank morning? what! is Brutus fick,
And will he fteal out of his wholesome bed,
To dare the vile contagion of the night,
And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air,
To add unto his fickness ? no, my Brutus;
You have fome fick offence within your mind,
Which, by the right and virtue of my place,
I ought to know of: and upon my knees,
I charge you, by my once-commended beauty;
By all your vows of love, and that great vow
Which did incorporate and make us one,
That you unfold to me, your self, your half,
Why you are heavy: and what men to-night
Have had refort to you: for here have been
Some fix or seven, who did hide their faces
Even from darkness.

Bru. Kneel not, gentle Portia.

Por. I fhould not need, if you were gentle Brutus, Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus,

Is it excepted, I fhould know no fecrets
That appertain to you? am I your self
But as it were in fort, or limitation ?

To keep with you at meals, confort your bed,
And talk to you? dwell I but in the fuburbs
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 vifit my fad heart.

Por. If this were true, then fhould I know this fecret. I grant I am a woman; but withal,

A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife:

I grant I am a woman; but withal,
A woman well reputed; Cato's daughter.
Think you, I am no ftronger than my fex,
Being fo father'd, and fo hufbanded ?

Tell me your counfels, I will not disclose them:
I have made ftrong proof of my conftancy,
Giving my felf a voluntary wound

Here, in the thigh: can I bear that with patience,
And not my husband's fecrets ?

Bru. O ye Gods!

Render me worthy of this noble wife.

Hark, hark, one knocks: Portia, go in a while,

And by and by thy bosom shall partake

The fecrets of my heart.

All my engagements I will conftrue to thee,

All the charactery of my fad brows.

Leave me with hafte.

Enter Lucius and Ligarius.

Lucius, who's there that knocks?

[Knock.

[Exit Portia.

Luc. Here is a fick man that would speak with you.
Bru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus fpake of.

Boy, ftand afide. Caius Ligarius! how?

Lig. Vouchfafe good-morrow from a feeble tongue. Bru. O what a time have you chofe out, brave Caius, To wear a kerchief? would you were not fick ! Lig. I am not fick, if Brutus have in hand

Any exploit worthy the name of honour.

Bru. Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius,

Had you an healthful ear to hear of it.

Lig. By all the Gods the Romans bow before,

here difcard my fickness. Soul of Rome, Brave fon deriv'd from honourable loins, Thou like an exorcift haft conjur'd up

My mortified fpirit.

Now bid me run,

And I will ftrive with things impoffible;

Yea, get the better of them. What's to do?

Bru. A piece of work, that will make fick men wholer
Lig. But are not fome whole that we must make fick ?
Bra. That muft we alfo. What it is, my Caius,

I fhall unfold to thee, as we are going,

To whom it must be done.

Lig. Set on your foot,

And with a heart new-fir'd I follow you;
To do I know not what: but it fufficeth
That Brutus leads me on.

Bru. Follow me then.

[Exeant

SCENE IV. Cæfar's Palace.
Thunder and Lightning. Enter Julius Cæfar.
Caf. Nor heav'n, nor earth, have been at peace to-night
Thrice hath Calpburnia in her fleep cry'd out,
Help, bo; they murder Cefar. Who's within?
Enter a Servant.

Ser. My Lord.

Caf. Go bid the Priefts do prefent facrifice,

And bring me their opinions of fuccefs.

Ser. I will, my Lord.

Enter Calphurnia.

[Exit.

Calp. What mean you, Cæfar? think you to walk forth?
You shall not ftir out of your house to-day.

Caf. Cafar fhall forth; the things that threatned me,
Ne'er lookt but on my back: when they fhall fee
The face of Cæfar, they are vanished.

Calp. Cæfar, I never food on ceremonies,
Yet now they fright me: there is one within,
(Befides the things that we have heard and seen)
Recounts moft horrid fights feen by the watch.
A lionefs hath whelped in the ftreets,

And graves have yawn'd and yielded up their dead;
Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds,
In ranks and fquadrons and right form of war,

Which

Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol :
The noise of battel hurtled in the air,
Horfes did neigh, and dying men did groan,
And ghofts did fhriek and fqueal about the streets.
O Cafar! these things are beyond all use,
And I do fear them.

Caf. What can be avoided,

Whofe end is purpos'd by the mighty Gods?
Yet Cafar fhall go forth: for thefe predictions
Are to the world in general, as to Cæfar.

Calp. When beggars die, there are no comets feen,
The heav'ns themselves blaze forth the death of Princes,
Caf. 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 feems to me moft ftrange that men fhould fear :
Seeing that death, a pecessary end,

Will come, when it will come.

Enter a Servant.

What fay the Augurs ?

Ser. They would not have you to ftir forth to-day.
Plucking the entrails of an offering forth,
They could not find a heart within the beaft.
Caf. The Gods do this in fhame of cowardife:
Cæfar fhould be a beaft without a heart,

If he fhould ftay at home to-day for fear.*
Calp. Alas, my Lord,

Your wifdom is confum'd in confidence :

Do not go forth to-day; call it my fear,

That keeps you in the house, and not your own.
We'll fend Mark Antony to the Senate-house,
And he will fay you are not well to-day:
Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this.
Caf. Mark Antony shall say I am not well,

to day for fear:

No, Cafar fhall not; Danger knows full well,
That Cafar is more dangerous than he.

We were two lions litter'd in one day,

And I the elder and more terrible;
And Cafar fhail go forth.-

Calp. Alas, I.