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, Musing, and sighing, with your arms across : 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 5 6 To walk unbraced, and suck up the humours 4 Temper. s Damp. 6 Moist. I charm you, by my once commended beauty, Bru. Kneel not, gentle Portia. Por. I should not need, if you were gentle Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, Of your good pleasure? If it be no more, Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife. 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: 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 Bru. O ye gods, Render me worthy of this noble wife! [Knocking within. Hark, hark! one knocks: Portia, go in a while; The secrets of my heart. All my engagements I will construe to thee, Leave me with haste. [Exit PORTIA. 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. I shall unfold to thee, as we To whom it must be done. Lig. What it is, my Caius, are going Set on your foot; And, with a heart new-fir'd, I follow you, To do I know not what: but it sufficeth, Thunder and Lightning. Enter CESAR, in his Night-gown. Cas. 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? Serv. My lord? Enter a Servant. 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. Cæs. Cæsar shall forth: The things that threaten'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", Yet now they fright me. There is one within, 7 Never paid a regard to prodigies or omens. Besides the things that we have heard and seen, And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead: In ranks, and squadrons, and right form of war, And ghosts did shriek, and squeal about the streets. And I do fear them. Cæs. What can be avoided, Whose end is purpos'd by the mighty gods? Yet Cæsar shall go forth: for these predictions 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. Cæs. Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. 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, Caes. The gods do this in shame of cowardice: Cæsar should be a beast without a heart, 8 Encountered. |