Like wrath in death, and envy afterwards:
For Antony is but a limb of Cæfar.

Let us be facrificers, but not butchers, Caius.
We all stand up against the spirit of Cæfar;
And in the fpirit of men there is no blood:
O, that we then could come by Cæfar's fpirit,
And not difmember Cæfar! But, alas,
Cæfar must bleed for it! And, gentle friends,
Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully;
Let's carve him as a difh fit for the gods,
Not hew him as a carcafe fit for hounds:
And let our hearts, as fubtle masters do,

Stir up

their fervants to an act of rage,
And after feem to chide them. This fhall make
Our purpofe neceffary, and not envious:
Which fo appearing to the common eyes,
We shall be call'd purgers, not murderers.
And for Mark Antony, think not of him;
For he can do no more than Cæfar's arm,
When Cæfar's head is off.

CAS. Yet I do fear him:

For in the ingrafted love he bears to Cæfar,-
BRU. Alas, good Caffius, do not think of him:
If he love Cæfar, all that he can do

Is to himself; take thought, and die for Cæfar:
And that were much he fhould; for he is given
To fports, to wildness, and much company.

TREB. There is no fear in him; let him not die; For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter. [Clock strikes, BRU. Peace, count the clock.

CAS. The clock hath ftricken three.

TREB. 'Tis time to part.

CAS. But it is doubtful yet,

Whe'r Cæfar will come forth to-day, or no :
For he is fuperftitious grown of late;
Quite from the main opinion he held once
Of fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies:
It may be, thefe apparent prodigies,
The unaccustom'd terror of this night,
And the perfuafion of his augurers,
May hold him from the Capitol to-day.
DEC. Never fear that: if he be fo refolv'd,
I can o'erfway him: for he loves to hear,
That unicorns may be betray'd with trees,
And bears with glaffes, elephants with holes,
Lions with toils, and men with flatterers:

But, when I tell him, he hates flatterers,
He fays, he does; being then most flattered.
Let me work :

For I can give his humour the true bent;
And I will bring him to the Capitol.

CAS. Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.
BRU. By the eighth hour: Is that the uttermost?
CIN. Be that the uttermoft, and fail not then.
MET. Caius Ligarius doth bear Cæfar hard,
Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey;
I wonder, none of you have thought of him.

BRU. Now, good Metellus, go along by him:
He loves me well, and I have given him reasons ;
Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him. [Brutus :—
CAS. The morning comes upon us: We'll leave you,
And, friends, difperfe yourselves: but all remember
What you have faid, and fhow yourselves 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 :
And fo, good-morrow to you every one.

[Exeunt all but BRUTUS.

Boy! Lucius!-Faft afleep? It is no matter;
Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of flumber :
Thou haft no figures, nor no fantasies,

Which bufy care draws in the brains of men ;
Therefore thou fleep'ft fo found.

Enter PORTIA.

POR. 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.

foot:

POR. Nor for yours neither. You have ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed: And yesternight, at fupper, You fuddenly arofe, and walk'd about, Mufing, and fighing, with your arms across : And when I afk'd you what the matter was, You ftar'd upon me with ungentle looks: I urg'd you further; then you fcratch'd your head, And too impatiently stamp'd with your Yet I infifted, yet you answer'd not; But, with an angry wafture of your hand, Gave fign for me to leave you: So I did; Fearing to ftrengthen that impatience, Which feem'd too much enkindled; and, withal, Hoping it was but an effect of humour, Which sometime hath his hour with every man. It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor fleep; And, could it work fo 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 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 physical
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 fickness? 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 resort to you: for here have been
Some fix or feven, who did hide their faces
Even from darkness.

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
That appertain to you? Am I yourself,
But, as it were, in fort, or limitation;

To keep with you at meals, comfort 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 fecret.

I grant, I am a woman; but, withal,

A woman that lord Brutus took to wife :

I grant, I am a woman; but, withal,
A woman well-reputed; Cato's daughter.
Think you,
I am no stronger than my fex,
Being fo father'd, and fo husbanded?

Tell me your counfels, I will not difclofe them:

I have made strong proof of my constancy,

Giving myself a voluntary wound

Here, in the thigh: Can I bear that with patience,

And not my husband's fecrets?

BRU. O ye gods,

Render me worthy of this noble wife! [Knocking within. Hark, hark! one knocks: Portia, go in a while;

And by and by thy bofom fhall partake

The fecrets of my heart.

All

my engagements I will conftrue to thee, All the charactery of my fad brows :—

Leave me with hafte.

Enter LUCIUS and LIGARIUS.

Lucius, who's that, knocks?

[Exit PORTIA.

Luc. Here is a fick man, that would fpeak with you. BRU. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake 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,