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Which busy care draws in the brains of men ;
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 signing, with your arms across: And when I ask'd you what the matter was, You star'd upon me with ungentle looks: I urg'd you further; then you scratch'd your head, And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot : Yet I insisted, yet you auswer'd not; 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, Hoping it was but an effect of humour, Which sometime hath his hour with every mao. It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep; And, could it work so 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 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.
Por. Is Brutus sick ? and is it physical
And will he steal out of his wholesome bed,
Kneel not, gentle Portia. Por. I should not need, if you were gentle Bru
tus. Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, Is it excepted, I should know no secrets That appertain to you? Am I yourself, But, as it were, in sort, or limitation; To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed, And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the
suburbst of your good pleasure? If it be no more, Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife.
Bru. You are my true and honourable wife;
The residence of harlots.
Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose them :
(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 characterye of my sad brows; Leave me with baste.
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 topgue.
Lig. I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand
Bru. Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius, Had you a healthful ear to hear of it.
Lig. By all the gods that Komans 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?
* All that is charactered on.
Bru. A piece of work, that will make sick men
whole. Lig. But are not some whole, that we must make
Set on your foot;
Follow me then.
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 Cesar! Who's within ?
Enter a Servant.
Cæs. Go bid the priests do present sacrifice,
Enter Calphurnia. 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 threat
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,
What can be avoided,
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 ; Secing that death, a necessary end, Will come, when it will come.
Re-enter a Servant.
What say the augurers? Sero. 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.
Ces. The gods do this in shame of cowardice: Cæsar should be a beast without a heart,
• Never paid a regard to prodigies or omens. Encountered. Cry with pain.