Caf. Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.
Bru. By the eighth hour, is that the uttermofl?
Cin. Be that the uttermott, and fail not then.
Met. Caius Ligarius doth bear Cafar hatred,
Who rated him for fpeaking well of Pompey;
I wonder none of you have thought of him.
Bru. Now good Mettellus go along by him:
He loves me well; and I have giv'n him Realons,
Send him but hither, and I il fashion him.

Caf. The Morning comes upon's; we'll leave you, Brutus, And Friends difperie your felves; but all remember, What you have faid, and thew 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 Spirits, and formal Conftancy; And fo good Morrow to you every one.

Manet Brutus.

Boy! Lucius! faft aflcep? It is no matter,
Enjoy they Honey-heavy-dew of Slumber:
Thou haft no Figures, nor no Fantafies,
Which bufie Care draws in the Brains of Men;
Therefore thou fleep'ft fo found..

Enter Portia.

Por. Brutus, my Lord!

[Exeunt.

Bru. Portia, 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 Supper
You fuddenly arofe, and walk'd about,

Mufing, and fighing, with your Arms a-crofs:
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: So I did,
Fearing to ftrengthen that Impatience,
Which feem'd too much inkindled; and withal,

12

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, Bruins. Dear, my Lord,
Make me acquainted with your caufe 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 Phyfical
To walk unbraced, and fuck up the Humours
Of the dark Morning? What, is Brutus lick?
And will he steal out of his wholfom Bed,..
To dare the vile Contagion of the Night?
And tempt the Rheumy and unpurged Air,
To add unto his Sicknefs? No, my Brutus,&
You have fome fick Offence within your Mind,
Which, by the Right and Vertue 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, your felf, your half;
Why you are heavy, and whit Men, to Night,
Have had refort 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 Secrets

That appertain to you? Am I your felf, **s.
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 Suburbs Of your good Pleafure? 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.

Per. If this were true, then should I know this Sercet. 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 ftronger than my Sex,
Being fo father'd, and fo husbanded?

Tell me your Counfels, I will not difclofe them:
I have made ftrong 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 Secrets?

Bru. O ye Gods!

Render me worthy of this Noble Wife.

Hark, hark, one knocks: Portia, go in a while,
And, by and by, thy Bofom fhall partake
The Secrets of my Heart.

All my Engagements I will conftrue to thee,
All the Chara&tery of my fad Brows:

Leave me with hafte.

Enter Lucius and Ligarius. Lucius, who's that knocks?

[Knocks

Exit Portia.

Luc. Here is a fick Man that would fpeak with you.
Bru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus fpake of.

Boy, ftand afide. 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, Ligarins,

Had you an healthful Ear to hear of it.

Cai. By all the Gods the Romans bow before,
I here difcard my Sickness. Soul of Rome,
Brave Son, deriv'd from honourable Loins,
Thou like an Exorcift, haft conjur'd up
My mortified Spirit. Now bid me run,
And I will ftrive with things impoffible,
Yet get the better of them. What's to do?

Bru

Bru. A piece of work, that will make fick Men whole. Cai. But are not fome 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.

SCENE II.

Cæfar's Palace.

Thunder and Lightning. Enter Julius Cæfar in his Night

Gown.

Caf. Nor Heav'n, nor Earth, have been at Peace to Night; Thrice hath Calphurnia in her Sleep cry'd out; Help, ho; they murder Cafar. Who's within? Enter a Servant.

Ser. My Lord.

Caf. Go, bid the Priefts do prefent Sacrifice, And bring me their Opinions of Succefs.

Ser. I will my Lord.

Enter Calphurdia.

[Exit.

Cal. What mean you, Cafar? Think you to walk forth? You fhall not frir out of your Houfe to Day.

Caf Cafar fhall forth; the things that threatned me,
Ne'er lookt but on my Back: When they fhall fee
The Face of Cafar, they are vanished,

Cal. Cafar, I never flood on Ceremonies,
Yet now they fright me: There is one within,
Befides the things that we have heard and feen,
Recounts moft horrid fights feen by the Watch.
A Lioness 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 Squadrons, and right form of War,
Which drizzled Blood upon the Capitol:

The noife of Battel hurried in the Air,
Horfes did neigh, and dying Men did groan,
And Ghofts did fhriek and fqueal about the Streets.

N 3

O Cafar! thefe things are beyond all ufe,
And I do fear them.

Caf. What can be avoided,

Whote end is purpos'd by the mighty Gods?
Yet Cafar fhall go forth: For thefe Predictions
Are to the World in general, as to Cafar.

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 a Servant.

What fay the Augurers?

Ser. They would not have you to ftir forth to Day.
Plucking the Entrails of an Offering forth,
They could not find a Heart within the Beast.
Caf. The Gods do this in fhame of Cowardife:
Cafar fhould be a Beaft without a Heart,
If he should stay at home to Day for fear:
No, Cafar fhall not; Danger knows full well,
That Cafar is more dangerous than he.
We heard two Lions litter'd in one Day,
And I the elder and more terrible;
And Cafar fhall go forth.

Cal. Alas, my Lord,

Your Wifdom is confum'd in Confidence:
Do not go forth to Day; call it my Fear,

That keeps you in the House, and not your own.
We'll fend Mark Anthony to the Senate-houfe,
And he will fay you are not well to Day:
Let me, upon my Knee, prevail in this.

Caf. Mark Antony fhall fay I am not well,
And for thy Humour, I will ftay at home.
Enter Decius.

Here's Decius Brutus, he fhall tell them fo.
Dec. Cafar, all hail! Good Morrow, worthy Cafar,

I come to fetch you to the Senate-house.

Caf.