192. Cas. The clock hath stricken three. Treb. 'Tis time to part. 194. Cas. But it is doubtful yet 195. Whether Cæsar will come forth to-day or no: Dec. Never fear that. If he be so resolved, For I can give his humour the true bent; Cas. Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him. 200. 201. I wonder none of you have thought of him. Cas. The morning comes upon us: we'll leave you, And, friends, disperse yourselves: but all remember With untired spirits, and formal constancy: [Exeunt all but BRUTUS. Boy! Lucius! - Fast asleep? It is no matter; Enjoy the heavy honey-dew of slumber : Enter PORTIA. Por. 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. 205. Por. Nor for yours neither. You've ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed: and yesternight, at supper, You suddenly arose, and walked about, I urged you further; then you scratched your head, But, with an angry wafture of your hand, Which seemed too much enkindled; and, withal, Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all. Bru. Why, so I do.-Good Portia, go to bed. 209. Por. Is Brutus sick? and is it physical To walk unbraced, and suck up the humours 211. To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus; Bru. Kneel not, gentle Portia. Por. I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus. Is it excepted, I should know no secrets That appertain to you? Am I yourself To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed, And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife. Bru. You are my true and honorable wife; As dear to me as are the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart. 213. 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 : Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose 'em : I have made strong proof of my constancy, Giving myself a voluntary wound Here, in the thigh: can I bear that with patience, And not my husband's secrets? 214. Bru. O ye gods, Render me worthy of this noble wife! [Knocking within. Hark, hark! one knocks. Portia, go in awhile; And by and by thy bosom shall partake The secrets of my heart. All my engagements I will construe to thee, Leave me with haste. Enter LUCIUS and LIGARIUS. Lucius, who's that, knocks? [Exit PORTIA. Luc. Here is a sick man that would speak with you. Bru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of. Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius! how? 17. Lig. Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue. 218. Bru. O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius, To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick! 221. Lig. I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand Bru. Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius, Lig. By all the gods that Romans bow before, Bru. A piece of work that will make sick men whole. To whom it must be done. 225. Lig. Set on your foot; And, with a heart new-fired, I follow you, To do I know not what: but it sufficeth, Bru. Follow me then. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The same. A Room in CÆSAR'S Palace. Thunder and lightning. Enter CÆSAR in his night-gown. 227. Cæs. Nor heaven, nor earth, have been at peace to night: Thrice hath Calphurnia in her sleep cried out, Help, ho! they murder Cæsar! - Who's within? Enter a SERVANT. Serv. My lord? 229. Cæs. Go bid the priests do present sacrifice, 233. 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 threatened me Ne'er looked but on my back; when they shall see Cal. Cæsar, I never stood on ceremonies, And graves have yawned, and yielded up their dead · In ranks and squadrons, and right form of war, The noise of battle hurtled in the air, Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan; And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets. And I do fear them. 234. Cæs. What can be avoided, Whose end is purposed 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. 236. 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; Will come, when it will come. |