Bru. Portia, what mean you? Wherefore rise It is not for your health, thus to commit Stole from my bed: And yesternight, at supper, Musing, and sighing, with your arms across: I urg'd you further; then you scratch'd your head, Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not; But, with an angry wafture of your hand, Gave sign for me to leave you: So I did; 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. And will he steal out of his wholesome bed, Bru. Kneel not, gentle Portia. Por. I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus. Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, 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, 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, All the charactery of my sad brows: Leave me with haste. [Exit Portia. Lucius, who's that, knocks? Enter Lucius and Ligarius. 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. To wear a kerchief? 'Would you were not sick! D 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. 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; And, with a heart new-fir'd, I follow you, Bru. Follow me then. [Exeunt. 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, Serv. My lord? Enter a Servant. Caes. Go bid the priests do present sacrifice, 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: Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds, 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. O Cæsar! these things are beyond all use, And I do fear them. |