For Antony is but a limb of Caesar.

Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius,
We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar;
And in the spirit of men there is no blood:
O, that we then could come by Caesar's spirit,
And not dismember Caesar! But, alas,
Caesar must bleed for it! And, gentle friends,
Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully;
Let's carve him as a dish fit for the Gods,
Not hew him as a carcase fit for hounds:
And led our hearts, as subtle masters do,
Stir up their servants to an act of rage,
And after seem to chide them. This shall make
Our purpose necessary, and not envious:
Which so 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 Caesar's arm,
When Caesar's head is off. oh erkaged

Cas. Yet I do fear himga rok

For in the ingrafted love he bears to Caesar,

t

Bru Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him:
If he love Caesar, 'all'
I that he can do

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

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

clock strikes.

Bru. Peace, count clock.
Bau: The che hath stricken three,

Treb. 'Tis time to part. Bo Juq &dnos
Cas. But it is doubtful yet,oží jen ta

J1 T690

Whe'r Caesar will come forth to-day, or no?
For he is superstitious grown of late;
Quite from the main opinion he held once

a

Of fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies
It may be, these apparent prodigies,

The unaccustom'd terror of this night, W And the persuasion of his augurers,

May hold him from the Capitol to-day.

Dec. Never fear that: If he be so resolv'd I can o'ersway him; for he loves to hear, That unicorns may be betray'd with trees, ad alt and bears with glasses, elephants with holes, as I Lions with toils, and men with flatterers:wed to 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 bentoqu 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 ? A Cin. Be that the uttermost, and fail not then Met. Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar 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;if

Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him

of al

Cas. The morning comes upon us; We'll leave A to four beyou, Brutus

And, friends, disperse yourselves; but all re devine gidi is member sit IIwad You What you have said, and show yourselves true Romans. sp jamon,steal and Bru. Good Gentlemen, look fresh and merrily Let not our looks put on our purposes;a:T' dost But bear it as our do di fi 38 201

With untir'd spirits to constancyse redw

And so, good-morrow to you every one, ai ed o two blod ad tok Exeunt all but Brotasi

Boy! Lucius!

Fast asleep? It is no matter;

Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber:
Thon hast no figures, nor no fantasies,
Which busy care draws in the brains of men;
Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.

Enter PORTIA.

Por. Brutus, my Lord!

Bru. Portia, what mean you? Wherefore rise you now? It is not for your health, thus to commit "weak condition to the raw-cold morning. Por. Nor for yours neither. You have ungently, Brutus,

Your

Stole from my bed: And yesternight, at supper,
You suddenly arose, and walk'd about,
Musing, and sighing, with your arins across:
And when Task'd you what the matter was,
You star'd upou me with ungentle looks:

I urg'd you further; then you scratch'd your head,
And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot:
Yet 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 seen 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.
Pro. 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, 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: Aud, 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 A Even from darkness.

Bru. Kneel not, gentle Portia. Por. I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus. Within the bond of marriage, tell ine, 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.

2

w

Bru. You are my true and honourable wife; A As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops

That visit my sad heart.

of I

Por. If this were true, then should I know this secret. 20) IN ...i I grant, I am a woman; but, withals blog sit

A woman that lord Brutus took to wife:
1 grant, I am a woman; but, withal,
A woman well-reputed; Cato's daughter.
Think you, I am no stronger than my sex,
Being so father'd, and so husbanded?

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

Here in the thigh: Can 1 bear that with patience, And not my husband's secrets?

Bru. O ye Gods,

Render me worthy of this noble wife!

[Knocking within. Hark, bark! one knocks: Portia, go in a while; 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.

Enter Lucius and LIGARIUS.

Lucius, who's that, knocks?

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 Brutns 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