Imatges de pÓgina
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And after feem to chide & 'em. This fhall make
Our purpofe neceffary, and not envious:
Which fo appearing to the common eyes,
We shall be call'd purgers, not murderers.
And for Mark Antony, think not of him;
For he can do no more than Cafar's arm,
When Cafar's head is off.
Caf. Yet I fear him:

For in the ingrafted love he bears to Cafar-
Bru. Alas, good Caffius, do not think of him:
If he love Cæfar, all that he can do

Is to himself; take thought, and die for Cæsar:
And that were much he fhould; for he is given

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To fports, to wildness, and much company.

Treb. There is no fear in him; let him not die;

For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter. [Clock ftrikes. Bru. Peace, count the clock.

Caf. The clock hath stricken three,

Treb. 'Tis time to part.

Caf. But it is doubtful yet,

Whether Cafar will come forth to-day, or no:

For he is fuperftitious grown of late,

Quite from the main opinion he held once
Of" fantafy, of dreams, and ceremonies :
It may be, these apparent prodigies,
The unaccuftom'd terror of this night,

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And the perfuafion of his augurers,
May hold him from the capitol to-day.
Dec. Never fear that: If he be fo refolv'd,
I can o'erfway him; for he loves to hear,
That unicorns may be betray'd with trees,
And bears with glaffes, elephants with holes,
Lions with toils, and men with flatterers.
But when I tell him, he hates flatterers,
He fays, he does; being then moft flattered,
• Let me work:

For I can give his humour the true bent;
And I will bring him to the capitol.

Caf. Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.
Bru. By the eighth hour; is that the uttermoft?
Cin. Be that the uttermoft, and fail not then.

Met. Caius Ligarius doth bear Cæfar ↑ hard, Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey; I wonder none of you have thought of him.

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

Caf. The morning comes upon's; we'll leave you, Brutus, And, friends, difperfe yourselves: but all remember What you have faid, and fhew yourselves true Ramans, Bru. Good gentlemen, look freth and merrily; Let not our looks put on our purposes;

P. alters this to, Leave me to work'; followed by the after-editors, except J. and C.

The three first fo's, eight,

The three last fo's, R. P. H. and G.

batred for bard.

The fo's and R. by for to. *C. up ́n us for ufen 's,

But

But bear it, as our Roman actors do,
With untir'd fpirits, and formal conftancy:
And fo, good morrow to you, every one.

[Exeunt all but Brutus.

Boy, Lucius! Fast asleep? It is no matter,
Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of flumber :
Thou haft no figures, nor no fantasies,
Which busy care draws in the brains of men;
Therefore thou fleep'st so found.

SCENE III.

Enter Portia.

Por. Brutus, my lord.

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 fupper,

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You fuddenly arose, and walk'd about,

Mufing, and fighing, with your arms across:
And when I afk'd you what the matter was,
You ftar'd upon me with ungentle looks:
I urg'd you further; then you scratch'd
your head,
And too impatiently ftamp'd with your foot:

The fo's, Y'bave for You've. "J. Stol'n.

w The two firft fo's, fodainly.

Yet

Yet I infifted; yet you anfwer'd not;

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But, with an angry wafture of your hand,
Gave fign for me to leave you: So I did,
Fearing to ftrengthen that impatience,
Which feem'd too much enkindled; and withal,
Hoping it was but an effect of humour,
Which fometime hath his hour with every man.
It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor fleep;
And could it work fo much upon your fhape,
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 wife; and were he not in health,
He would einbrace the means to come by it.

Bru. Why fo I do.

Por. Is Brutus fick;

Good Portia, go to bed.
and is it phyfical

To walk unbraced, and fuck up the humours

Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus fick;
And will he fteal out of his wholesome bed,
To dare the vile contagion of the night,

And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air

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To add unto his fick nefs? No, my Brutus;
You have fome fick offence within your mind,
Which, by the right and virtue of my place,
I ought to know of: And upon iny knees,

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I charm you, by my once commended beauty,
By all your vows of love, and that great vow

× The fo's, wafter for wafture.

y The three last fo's and R.'s octavo, dark for dank.

The firft f. bit for bis.

P. and H. charge for charm.

Which

Which did incorporate and make us one,
That you unfold to me, your felf, your half,
Why you are heavy; and what men to-night
Have had refort to you; for here have been

Some fix or feven, who did hide their faces
Even from darkness.

Bru. Kneel not, gentle Portia.

[ Raifing her.

Por. I fhould not need, if you were gentle Brutus.
Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus,

Is it excepted, I should know no fecrets
That appertain to you? Am I your felf,
But as it were in fort, or limitation?

To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed,

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And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the fuburbs Of your good pleafure? 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 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:

I grant I am a woman; but withal,
A woman well reputed, Cato's daughter:
Think you, I am no ftronger than my sex,
Being fo father'd, and fo hufbanded?

Tell me your counfels, I will not disclose f 'em :

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