If he love Cæsar, all that he can do

Is to himself, take thought and die for Cæsar :
And that were much he should, for he is given
To sports, to wildness and much company.

Treb. There is no fear in him: let him not die ; 190 For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter.

Bru. Peace! count the clock.
Cas.

[Clock strikes.

The clock hath stricken three.

Treb. 'Tis time to part.

But it is doubtful yet

Cas.
Whether Cæsar will come forth to-day or no;
For he is superstitious grown of late,
Quite from the main opinion he held once
Of fantasy, of dreams and ceremonies:
It may be, these apparent prodigies,
The unaccustom'd terror of this night,
And the persuasion of his augurers,
May hold him from the Capitol to-day.

Dec. Never fear that: if he be so resolved,
I can o'ersway him; for he loves to hear
That unicorns may be betray'd with trees,
And bears with glasses, elephants with holes,

187. take thought, fall to melancholy (cf. modern 'take on').

188. And that were much he should, and that for him were much,

194. Whether (pronounced where').

196. from the main opinion, contrary to the dominant (i.e. assured) opinion.

197. ceremonies (any thing or observance held sacred; hence, here), signs, portents.

198. apparent, evident.

200. augurers, official diviners.

200

204. unicorns may be betray'd with trees. The classical procedure of the Lion when charged by the Unicorn was to stand against a tree and then slip aside so that his enemy plunged his horn into the trunk and was securely held fast.

205. bears were said to be taken by displaying mirrors which beguiled them with their own images.

205. elephants 'were seduced into pitfalls, lightly covered over with hurdles and turf, on which a proper bait to tempt them was exposed' (Steevens).

Lions with toils, and men with flatterers :
But when I tell him he hates flatterers,
He says he does, being then most flattered.
Let me work;

For I can give his humour the true bent,
And I will bring him to the Capitol.

Cas. Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.
Bru. By the eighth hour: is that the uttermost ?
Cin. Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.
Met. Caius Ligarius doth bear Cæsar hard,
Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey :
I wonder none of you have thought of him.

Bru. Now, good Metellus, go along by him : He loves me well, and I have given him reasons; Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him.

Cas. The morning comes upon's: we'll leave you, Brutus.

And, friends, disperse yourselves; but all remember What you have said, and show yourselves 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 untired spirits and formal constancy:
And so good morrow to you every one.

[Exeunt all but Brutus.

Boy! Lucius! Fast asleep? It is no matter;
Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber :

Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies,

Which busy care draws in the brains of men;
Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.

Por.

Enter PORTIA.

212. fetch, escort.
227. formal, grave, dignified.
230. honey-heavy, heavy with

Brutus, my lord!

210

220

230

honey, steeped in sweetness. 231. figures, idle but disquieting images.

Bru. Portia, what mean you? wherefore rise

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 yesternight, at supper,
You suddenly arose, and walk'd about,
Musing and sighing, with your arms across;
And when I ask'd you what the matter was,
You stared upon me with ungentle looks;

I urged you further; then you scratch'd your head,

And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot;

Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not,

But with an angry wafture of your hand

Gave sign for me to leave you: so I did;
Fearing to strengthen that impatience
Which seem'd too much enkindled, and withal
Hoping it was but an effect of humour,
Which sometime hath his hour with every man.
It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep,
And could it work so much upon your shape
As it hath much prevail'd on your condition,
I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord,
Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.
Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all.
Por. Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health,
He would embrace the means to come by it.
Bru. Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed.
Por. Is Brutus sick? and is it physical
To walk unbraced and suck up the humours
Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick,

And will he steal out of his wholesome bed,

250. humour, moody caprice.

254. condition, mental dis

position.

261. physical, wholesome.

240

250

260

To dare the vile contagion of the night
And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air
To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus ;
You have some sick offence within your mind,
Which, by the right and virtue 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, yourself, your half,
Why you are heavy, and what men to-night
Have had resort to you; for here have been
Some six or seven, who did hide their faces
Even from darkness.

Bru.

Kneel not, gentle Portia.

Por. I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus.
Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus,
Is it excepted I should know no secrets
That appertain to you? Am I yourself
But, as it were, in sort or limitation,

To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed,
And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the

suburbs

Of your good pleasure? 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 visit my sad heart.

Por. If this were true, then should I know

this secret.

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 stronger than my sex,
268. sick offence, hurtful distemper.

271. charm, conjure.

E

270

280

290

Being so father'd and so husbanded?

Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose 'em :
I have made strong proof of my constancy,
Giving myself a voluntary wound

Here, in the thigh: can I bear that with patience,
And not my husband's secrets?

Bru.

Render me worthy of this noble wife!

O ye gods,

[Knocking within.

Hark, hark! one knocks: Portia, go in awhile;

And by and by thy bosom shall partake

The secrets of my heart.

All my engagements I will construe to thee,

All the charactery of my sad brows:

Leave me with haste. [Exit Portia.] Lucius, who's that knocks?

Re-enter LUCIUS with LIGArius.

Luc. Here is a sick man that would speak

with you.

Bru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of. Boy, stand aside.

Caius Ligarius! how?

Lig. Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue.

Bru. O, what a time have you chose out,
brave Caius,

To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick!
Lig. I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand
Any exploit worthy the name of honour.

Bru. Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius,
Had you a healthful ear to hear of it.

Lig. By all the gods that Romans bow before,

I here discard my sickness!

Soul of Rome !

Brave son, derived from honourable loins!

Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjured up

300

308. charactery, writing (the signs of care graven in my brow).

310

320