I think, he will stand very strong with us. Cin. No, by no means. Met. O let us have him, for his filver hairs And buy men's voices to commend our deeds: Bru. O, name him not: let us not break with him; For he will never follow any thing, That other men begin. Caf. Then leave him out. Cafca. Indeed he is not fit. Dec. Shall no man elfe be touch'd, but only Cæfar? Caf. Decius, well urg'd: I think, it is not meet, Mark Antony, fo well belov'd of Cæfar, Should out-live Cafar we fhall find of him : A fhrewd contriver. And you know, his means, Let Antony and Cæfar fall together. Bru. Our courfe will feem too bloody, Caius Caffius, Let us be facrificers, but not butchers, Caius ; B 2 We We shall be call'd Purgers, not Murderers. Caf. Yet I do fear him For in th' ingrafted love he bears to Cæfar Bru. Alas, good Caffius, do not think of him: Is to himself, take thought, and die for Cafar: Treb. There is no fear in him; let him not die; Bru. Peace, count the clock. Caf. But it is doubtful yet, [Clock ftrikes. If Cæfar will come forth to-day, or no: Dec. Never fear that; if he be fo refolv'd, For I can give his humour the true bent; Caf. Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him. Met. Caius Ligarius doth bear Cafar hard, Who Who rated him for fpeaking well of Pompey; : Caf. The morning comes upon's; we'll leave you Brutus; And, friends! difperfe yourselves; but all remember What you have faid, and fhew yourfelves 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. Boy! Lucius! fast asleep? it is no matter, Enter Portia, Por. Brutus, my Lord! [Exeunt. Bru. Partia, 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 stamp'd with your foot: Yet I infifted, yet you answer'd not; But with an angry wafture of your hand, Gave fign for me to leave you: fo I did, Fearing to ftrengthen that impatience, Which feem'd too much inkindled; and, withal, Hoping it was but an effect of humour; Bru. Why, fo I do good Porcia, go to bed. Bru. Kneel not, gentle Porcia. Por. I fhould not need, if you were gentle Brutus. That appertain to you? am I yourself, To keep with you at meals, confort your bed, (8) And talk to you ?---------] And This is but an odd Phrafe, and gives as odd an Idea. The Word, Word, And talk to you sometimes? 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 fhould I know this fecret. I grant, I am a woman; but withal, A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife: 1 grant, I am a woman; but withal, A woman well reputed; Cato's daughter. Tell me your counfels, I will not difclose them: Here, in the thigh: can I bear that with patience, Bru. O ye Gods! Render me worthy of this noble wife. [Knock. Hark, hark, one knocks: Porcia, go in a while; The fecrets of my heart, All my engagements I will conftrue to thee, Leave me with hafte. Enter Lucius and Ligarius. Lucius, who's there that knocks. [Exit Porcia. 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 ! I have fubftituted, feems much more proper; and is one of our Poet's own Ufage upon the like Occafions; which makes me fufpect, he employ'd it here. B 4 Cai. |