Within the bond of marriage, tell me Brutus, To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed, And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the Of your good pleasure? If it be no more, Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife. [suburbs Bru. You are my true and honourable wife; As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart. Por. If this were true, then should I know this 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. [secret. 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; And by and by thy bosom shall partake The secrets of my heart. All my engagenients I will construe to thee, All the charactery' of my sad brows: Leave me with haste. [Exit PORTIA. Lucius, who is that, knocks? Enter Lucius and LIGARIUs. Luc. Here is a sick man, that would speak with you. [J. CAS. 27] All that is charactered on, &c. Bru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of.- Lig. Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue. To wear a kerchief? 'Would you were not sick! Bru. Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius, Lig. By all the gods that Romans bow before, 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. What it is, my Caius, are going, Set on your foot; Lig. Bru. Follow me then. [Exeunt. SCENE II.—The same. A room in Cæsar's palace. Enter CESAR in his Thunder and lightning. Cas. Nor heaven, nor earth, have been at peace to-night: Thrice hath Calphurnia in her sleep cried out, Help, ho! They murder Cæsar! Who's within? [J. CES. 28] 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 You shall not stir out of your house to-day. [forth? 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, And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead: The noise of battle hurtled1 in the air, 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. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, 1 i. e. clashed. [J. Cæs. 29] 2 c It seems to me most strange that men should fear, Will come, when it will come. 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, They could not find a heart within the beast. Cæs. The gods do this in shame of cowardice: We were two lions litter'd in one day, Cal. Alas, my lord, Your wisdom is consum'd in confidence. Do not go forth to-day: Call it my fear, That keeps you in the house, and not your own. And he shall say, you are not well to-day : Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this. Cæs. Mark Antony shall say, I am not well; And, for thy humour, I will stay at home. Enter DECIUS. Here's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so. I come to fetch you to the senate-house. Cæs. And you are come in very happy time, To bear my greeting to the senators, And tell them, that I will not come to-day: Cæs. Shall Cæsar send a lie? Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far, [J. CAS. 30] To be afeard to tell grey-beards the truth? Dec. Most mighty Cæsar, let me know some cause, Lest I be laugh'd at, when I tell them so. Cæs. The cause is in my will, I will not come; Cas. And this way have you well expounded it. Break up Pardon me, Cæsar; for my dear, dear love Handkerchiefs, or other linen, tinged with blood. [J. CES. 31] 2c2 |