871Which busie care drawes, in the braines of men;

872Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.

874Por. Brutus, my Lord.

875Bru.Portia: What meane you? wherfore rise you now?

876It is not for your health, thus to commit

877Your weake condition, to the raw cold morning.

878Por. Nor for yours neither. Y'haue vngently Brutus

879Stole from my bed: and yesternight at Supper

880You sodainly arose, and walk'd about,

881Musing, and sighing, with your armes a-crosse:

882And when I ask'd you what the matter was,

883You star'd vpon me, with vngentle lookes.

884I vrg'd you further, then you scratch'd your head,

885And too impatiently stampt with your foote:

886Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not,

887But with an angry wafter of your hand

888Gaue signe for me to leaue you: So I did,

889Fearing to strengthen that impatience

890Which seem'd too much inkindled; and withall,

891Hoping it was but an effect of Humor,

892Which sometime hath his houre with euery man.

893It will not let you eate, nor talke, nor sleepe;

894And could it worke so much vpon your shape,

895As it hath much preuayl'd on your Condltion,

896I should not know you Brutus. Deare my Lord,

897Make me acquainted with your cause of greefe.

898Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all.

899Por. Brutus is wise, and were he not in health,

900He would embrace the meanes to come by it.

901Bru. Why so I do: good Portia go to bed.

902Por. Is Brutus sicke? And is it Physicall

903To walke vnbraced, and sucke vp the humours

904Of the danke Morning? What, is Brutus sicke?

905And will he steale out of his wholsome bed

906To dare the vile contagion of the Night?

907And tempt the Rhewmy, and vnpurged Ayre,

908To adde vnto hit sicknesse? No my Brutus,

909You haue some sicke Offence within your minde,

910Which by the Right and Vertue of my place

911I ought to know of: And vpon my knees,

912I charme you, by my once commended Beauty,

913By all your vowes of Loue, and that great Vow

914Which did incorporate and make vs one,

915That you vnfold to me, your selfe; your halfe

916Why you are heauy: and what men to night

917Haue had resort to you: for heere haue beene

918Some sixe or seuen, who did hide their faces

919Euen from darknesse.

920Bru. Kneele not gentle Portia.

921Por. I should not neede, if you were gentle Brutus.

922Within the Bond of Marriage, tell me Brutus,

923Is it excepted, I should know no Secrets

924That appertaine to you? Am I your Selfe,

925But as it were in sort, or limitation?

926To keepe with you at Meales, comfort your Bed,

927And talke to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the Suburbs

928Of your good pleasure? If it be no more,

929Portia is Brutus Harlot, not his Wife.

930Bru. You are my true and honourable Wife,

931As deere to me, as are the ruddy droppes

932That visit my sad heart.

933Por. If this were true, then should I know this secret.

934I graunt I am a Woman; but withall,

935A Woman that Lord Brutus tooke to Wife:

936I graunt I am a Woman; but withall,

937A Woman well reputed: Cato's Daughter.

938Thinke you, I am no stronger then my Sex

939Being so Father'd, and so Husbanded?

940Tell me your Counsels, I will not disclose 'em:

941I haue made strong proofe of my Constancie,

942Giuing my selfe a voluntary wound

943Heere, in the Thigh: Can I beare that with patience,

944And not my Husbands Secrets?

945Bru. O ye Gods!

946Render me worthy of this Noble Wife. Knocke.

947Harke, harke, one knockes: Portia go in a while,

948And by and by thy bosome shall partake

949The secrets of my Heart.

950All my engagements, I will construe to thee,

951All the Charractery of my sad browes:

952Leaue me with hast. Exit Portia.

954Lucius, who's that knockes.

955Luc. Heere is a sicke man that would speak with you.

956Bru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of.

957Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius, how?

958Cai. Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue.

959Bru. O what a time haue you chose out braue Caius

960To weare a Kerchiefe? Would you were not sicke.

961Cai. I am not sicke, if Brutus haue in hand

962Any exploit worthy the name of Honor.

963Bru. Such an exploit haue I in hand Ligarius,

964Had you a healthfull eare to heare of it.

965Cai. By all the Gods that Romans bow before,

966I heere discard my sicknesse. Soule of Rome,

967Braue Sonne, deriu'd from Honourable Loines,

968Thou like an Exorcist, hast coniur'd vp

969My mortified Spirit. Now bid me runne,

970And I will striue with things impossible,

971Yea get the better of them. What's to do?

972Bru. A peece of worke,

973That will make sicke men whole.

974Cai. But are not some whole, that we must make sicke?

975Bru. That must we also. What it is my Caius,

976I shall vnfold to thee, as we are going,

977To whom it must be done.

978Cai. Set on your foote,

979And with a heart new-fir'd, I follow you,

980To do I know not what: but it sufficeth

981That Brutus leads me on. Thunder

982Bru. Follow me then. Exeunt

985Caesar. Nor Heauen, nor Earth,

986Haue beene at peace to night:

987Thrice hath Calphurnia, in her sleepe cryed out,

988Helpe, ho: They murther Caesar. Who's within?

990Ser. My Lord.

991Caes. Go bid the Priests do present Sacrifice,

992And bring me their opinions of Successe.

993Ser. I will my Lord. Exit

995Cal. What mean you Caesar? Think you to walk forth?

996You shall not stirre out of your house to day.

997Caes. Caesar shall forth; the things that threaten'd me,

998Ne're look'd but on my backe: When they shall see

999The face of Caesar, they are vanished.