Caf. The morning comes upon us: We'll leave Brutus: you, And, friends, difperfe yourselves: but all remember What you have faid, and fhew yourfelves true Romans. Bru. Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily; Let not our looks put on our purposes; But bear it as our Roman actors do, With untir'd fpirits, and formal constancy : Manet BRUTUS. [Exeunt. Boy! Lucius!-Faft afleep? It is no matter; Enter PORTIA. Por. Brutus, my lord! Bru. Portia, what mean you? Wherefore rife It is not for your health, thus to commit you [now? Your weak condition to the raw cold morning. Stole from my bed: And yefternight, at fupper, I urg'd you further; then you fcratch'd your head, But with an angry wafture of your hand, Fearing Fearing to ftrengthen that impatience, Which feem'd too much enkindled; and withal, Which fometime hath his hour with every man. Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all. Por. Brutus is wife, and, were he not in health, He would embrace the means to come by it. Bru. Why, fo I do :-Good Portia, go to bed, Por. Is Brutus fick ? and is it phyfical To walk unbraced, and fuck up the humours Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus fick; And will he steal out of his wholesome bed, To dare the vile contagion of the night? And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air To add unto his ficknefs? No, my Brutus; You have fome fick offence within your mind, Which, by the right and virtue of my place, I ought to know of: And, upon my knees, I charm you, by my once commended beauty, By all your vows of love, and that great vow Which did incorporate and make us one, That you unfold to me, yourself, your half, Why you are heavy: and what men to-night Have had refort to you: for there have been Some fix or feven, who did hide their faces Even from darknefs. Bru. Kneel not, gentle Portia. Por. I fhould not need, if you were gentle Brutus, Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, Is it excepted, I fhould know no fecrets your bed, And talk to you fometimes? Dwell I but in the fuburbs 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 vifit my fad heart. Por. If this were true, then fhould I know this I grant, I am a woman; but, withal, A woman that lord Brutus took to wife: [fecret. Tell me your counfels, 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! [Knock. Hark, hark! one knocks: Portia, go in a while; And by and by thy bosom shall partake The fecrets of my heart. All my engagements I will conftrue to thee, All the charactery of my fad brows: Leave me with haste. Lucius, who is that knocks? [Exit PORTIA. Enter LUCIUS, and LIGARIUS. Luc. Here is a fick man, that would speak with you. Bru. Bru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spoke of.Boy, ftand afide.-Caius Ligarius! how? Lig. Vouchfafe good-morrow from a feeble tongue. Bru. O, what a time have you chofe out, brave Caius, To wear a kerchief? 'Would you were not fick ! Lig. I am not fick, 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, Bru. A piece of work, that will make fick men whole. Lig. But are not fome whole, that we must make fick? Bru. That must we also. What it is, my Caius, I fhall 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, To do I know not what: but it fufficeth, That Brutus leads me on. Bru. Follow me then. [Exeunt. SCENE II. CESAR's palace. Thunder and lightning. Enter CESAR, in his night-gown. Caf. Nor heaven, nor earth, have been at peace to-night: Thrice hath Calphurnia in her fleep cry'd out, Help. Help, bo! They murder Cafar. Who's within? Serv. My lord? Enter a Servant. Caf. Go bid the priest do present facrifice, And bring me their opinions of fuccefs. Serv. I will, my lord. Enter CALPHURNIA. Cal. What mean you, Cæfar? Think forth? [Exit. you to walk You fhall not ftir out of your house to-day. Caf.Cæfar fhall forth: The things, that threaten'd me, Ne'er look'd but on my back; when they shall fee The face of Cæfar, they are vanished. Cal. Cæfar, I never stood on ceremonies, And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead: In ranks, and fquadrons, and right form of war, The noise of battle hurtled in the air, Caf. What can be avoided, Whofe end is purpos'd by the mighty gods? Cal. When beggars die, there are no comets feen; The |