Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: John D. Cox
Peer Reviewed

Julius Caesar (Folio 1, 1623)


Enter Portia and Lucius.
1145Por. I prythee Boy, run to the Senate-house,
Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone.
Why doest thou stay?
Luc. To know my errand Madam.
Por. I would haue had thee there and heere agen
1150Ere I can tell thee what thou should'st do there:
O Constancie, be strong vpon my side,
Set a huge Mountaine 'tweene my Heart and Tongue:
I haue a mans minde, but a womans might:
How hard it is for women to keepe counsell.
1155Art thou heere yet?
Luc. Madam, what should I do?
Run to the Capitoll, and nothing else?
And so returne to you, and nothing else?
Por. Yes, bring me word Boy, if thy Lord look well,
1160For he went sickly forth: and take good note
What sar doth, what Sutors presse to him.
Hearke Boy, what noyse is that?
Luc. I heare none Madam.
Por. Prythee listen well:
1165I heard a bussling Rumor like a Fray,
And the winde brings it from the Capitoll.
Luc. Sooth Madam, I heare nothing.
Enter the Soothsayer.
Por. Come hither Fellow, which way hast thou bin?
1170Sooth. At mine owne house, good Lady.
Por. What is't a clocke?
Sooth. About the ninth houre Lady.
Por. Is sar yet gone to the Capitoll?
Sooth. Madam not yet, I go to take my stand,
1175To see him passe on to the Capitoll.
Por. Thou hast some suite to sar, hast thou not?
Sooth. That I haue Lady, if it will please sar
To be so good to sar, as to heare me:
I shall beseech him to befriend himselfe.
1180Por. Why know'st thou any harme's intended to-
wards him?
Sooth. None that I know will be,
Much that I feare may chance:
Good morrow to you: heere the street is narrow:
1185The throng that followes sar at the heeles,
Of Senators, of Praetors, common Sutors,
Will crowd a feeble man (almost) to death:
Ile get me to a place more voyd, and there
Speake to great sar as he comes along.
Exit
1190Por. I must go in:
Aye me! How weake a thing
The heart of woman is? O Brutus,
The Heauens speede thee in thine enterprize.
Sure the Boy heard me: Brutus hath a suite
1195That sar will not grant. O, I grow faint:
Run Lucius, and commend me to my Lord,
Say I am merry; Come to me againe,
And bring me word what he doth say to thee.
Exeunt