Stole from my bed: And yesternight, at supper, I urg'd you further; then you scratch'd your head, But, with an angry wafture of your hand, Gave sign for me to leave you: So I did; Fearing to strengthen that impatience, Which seem'd too much enkindled; and, withal, Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all. Por. Brutus is wise, and were he not in health, He would embrace the means to come by it. Bru. Why, so I do :-Good Portia, go to bed. (1) Temper. (2) Damp. (3) Moisture Have had resort to you: for here have been Bru. Kneel not, gentle Portia. Por. I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus. Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, Of your good pleasure? If it be no more, Bru. You are my true and honourable wife; 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 : Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose them: Here, in the thigh: Can I bear that with patience, And not my husband's secrets? Bru. Render me worthy of this noble wife! O ye gods, [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, (1) The residence of harlots. [Exit Portia. All the charactery1 of my sad brows:- Enter Lucius and Ligarius. 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, Had you a healthful ear to hear of it. Lig. By all the gods that Romans bow before, I here discard my sickness. Soul of Rome! Brave son, deriv'd from honourable loins! Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjur'd up My mortified spirit. Now bid me run, And I will strive with things impossible; 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. What it is, my Caius, I shall unfold to thee, as we are going To whom it must be done. Lig. Set on your foot; Bru. Follow me then. [Exeunt. (1) All that is charactered on. SCENE II.-The same. A room in Cæsar's palace. Thunder and lightning. Enter Cæsar, in his night-gown. Cæs. Nor heaven, nor earth, have been at peace to-night: Thrice hath Calphurnia in her sleep cried out, Help, ho! they murder Casar! Who's within? Enter a Servant. Serv. My lord? 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. Caes. Cæsar shall forth: The things that threat en'd me, Ne'er look'd but on my back; when they shall see The face of Cæsar, they are vanished. Cal. Cæsar, I never stood on ceremonies,1 Yet now they fright me. There is one within, Besides the things that we have heard and seen, Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch. A lioness hath whelped in the streets; And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead; (1) Never paid a regard to prodigies or omens. (2) Encountered. (3) Cry with pain. Cres. What can be avoided, Whose end is purpos'd by the mighty gods? 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; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come, when it will come. Re-enter a Servant. What say the augurers? Serv. They would not have you to stir forth to-day. Plucking the entrails of an offering forth, They could not find a heart within the beast. If he should stay at home to-day for fear. We were two lions litter'd in one day, Cal. Alas, my lord, Your wisdom is consum'd in confidence. Do not go forth to-day: Call it my fear, That keeps you in the house, and not your own. Cæs. Mark Antony shall say, I am not well; And, for thy humour, I will stay at home. Here's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so. Dec. Cæsar, all hail! Good morrow, worthy |