Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him.

Caf. The morning comes upon's; we'll leave you,
Brutus ;

And, friends! disperse your selves; but all remember
What you have said, and fhew your felves 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 conftancy;
And fo, good morrow to you every one.
Manet Brutus.

[Exeunt.

Boy! Lucias! faft afleep? it is no matter,
Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of Slumber:
Thou haft no figures, nor no fantafies,
Which bufie care draws in the brains of men;
Therefore thou sleep'st so found.

Enter Porcia.

Por. Brutus, my lord!

Bru. Porcia, what mean you? wherefore rife 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've ungently,
Brutus,

Stole from my bed; and, yefternight at fupper,
You fuddenly arofe and walk'd about,

Mufing and fighing, with your arms a-cross:
And, when I ask'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 ftamp'd with your foot:
Yet I infifted, yet you anfwer'd not;
But with an angry wafture of your hand,
Gave fign for me to leave you: fo I did,
Fearing to strengthen that impatience,

Which feem'd too much inkindled; and, withal,
Hoping it was but an effect of humour;

Which fometime 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 Porcia, 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 fteal out of his wholfom 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, (13)
By all your vows of love, and that great vow
Which did incorporate and make us one,

That you
unfold to me, your felf, your half,
Why you are heavy: and what men to night
Have had refort to you: for here have been
Some fix or seven, who did hide their faces
Even from darkness.

Bru. Kneel not, gentle Porcia.

Per. 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 your felf, But, as it were, in fort or limitation?

To keep with you at meals, confort your bed, (14)

And

(13) I charge you.] Thus Mr. Pope has corrected, in both his Editions; but I have reitor'd the Reading of the Old Books, I charm you, i. e. I conjure you by the Magick of, &c.

(14)

comfort your Bed,

And talk to you fometimes? dwell I but in the fuburbs Of your good pleafure? if it be no more,

Porcia 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 should I know this fe

cret.

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 disclose them:
I have made strong proof of my conftancy,
Giving my felf 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.

Hark, hark, one knocks: Porcia, 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.

[Knock.

[Exit Portia.

This is but an odd Phrase, and gives as odd an Idea. The Word, I have fubftituted, feems much more proper; and is one of our Poet's own Ufage; which makes me fufpect, he employ'd it here. So in his Comedy of Errors;

And, afterwards, confort you till Bed-time:

And fo in his Poem, call'd Venus and Adonis ;

Who bids them fill confort with ugly Night;

And fo afterwards, again, in the fifth Act of this Play.
Two mighty Eagles fell; and there they perch'd;
Garging and feeding from our Soldiers hands,
Who to Philippi here conforted us.

And, in Midfummer Night's Dream;

And muft for aye confort with black brow'd Night.

Enter

Enter Lucius and Ligarius.

Lucius, who's there that knocks?

Luc. Here is a fick man, that would fpeak with you. Bru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of. Boy, ftand aside. Caius Ligarius! how?

Cai. 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! Cai. 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 an healthful ear to hear of it.

Cai. By all the Gods the Romans bow before, I here difcard my fickness. Soul of Rome! Brave fon, deriv'd from honourable loins! Thou, like an Exorcift, haft conjur'd up My mortified fpirit. Now bid me run, And I will ftrive with things impoffible; Yea, get the better of them. What's to do? Bru. A piece of work, that will make fick men whole.

Cai. But are not some whole, that we must make fick?

Bru. That muft we alfo. What it is, my Caius, I fhall unfold to thee, as we are going, To whom it must be done.

Cai. 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.

Caf.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Cæfar's Palace.

Thunder and Lightning. Enter Julius Cæfar.

NOR

OR heav'n, nor earth, have been at peace
to night;

Thrice hath Calphurnia in her fleep cry'd out,
"Help, ho; they murder Cafar." Who's within?

Enter

Ser. My lord?

Enter a Servant,

Caf. Go bid the priests do prefent facrifice, And bring me their opinions of fuccefs.

Ser. I will, my

lord.

Enter Calphurnia.

[Exit

Cal. What mean you, Cafar? think you to walk forth?

You shall not ftir out of your house to day.

Caf. Cæfar fhall forth; the things, that threatned me,
Ne'er lookt but on my back: when they shall fee
The face of Cæfar, they are vanished.

Cal. Cæfar, I never ftood on ceremonies,
Yet now they fright me: there is one within,
(Befides the things that we have heard and feen)
Recounts most horrid fights feen by the Watch.
A lionefs hath whelped in the streets,

And Graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead;
Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds,
In ranks and fquadrons and right form of war,
Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol:

The noise of battle hurtled in the air;
Horfes did neigh, and dying men did groan;
And Ghosts did thriek, and fqueal about the streets.
O Cafar! these things are beyond all ufe,
And I do fear them.

Caf. What can be avoided,

Whofe end is purpos'd by the mighty Gods?
Yet Cæfar fhall go forth: for thefe predictions
Are to the world in general, as to Cæfar."

Cal. When Beggars die, there are no comets feen; The heav'ns themselves blaze forth the death of Princes, Caf. Cowards die many times before their deaths, The valiant never tafte of death but once :

Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,

It seems to me moft ftrange, that men fhould fear:
Seeing that death, a neceffary end,

Will come, when it will come.

Enter