The Same. Another Part of the same Street, before the House of BRUTUS. |
| |
Enter PORTIA and LUCIUS. |
| Por. I prithee, boy, run to the senate-house; |
| Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone. |
| Why dost thou stay? |
| Luc. To know my errand, madam. |
| Por. I would have had thee there, and here again, |
| Ere I can tell thee what thou shouldst do there. |
| O constancy! be strong upon my side; |
| Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue; |
| I have a man's mind, but a woman's might. |
| How hard it is for women to keep counsel! |
| Art thou here yet? |
| Luc. Madam, what shall I do? |
| Run to the Capitol, and nothing else? |
| And so return to you, and nothing else? |
| Por. Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord look well, |
| For he went sickly forth; and take good note |
| What Cæsar doth, what suitors press to him. |
| Hark, boy! what noise is that? |
| Luc. I hear none, madam. |
| Por. Prithee, listen well: |
| I heard a bustling rumour, like a fray, |
| And the wind brings it from the Capitol. |
| Luc. Sooth, madam, I hear nothing. |
| |
Enter the Soothsayer. |
| Por. Come hither, fellow: which way hast thou been? |
| Sooth. At mine own house, good lady. |
| Por. What is 't o'clock? |
| Sooth. About the ninth hour, lady. |
| Por. Is Cæsar yet gone to the Capitol? |
| Sooth. Madam, not yet: I go to take my stand, |
| To see him pass on to the Capitol. |
| Por. Thou hast some suit to Cæsar, hast thou not? |
| Sooth. That I have, lady: if it will please Cæsar |
| To be so good to Cæsar as to hear me, |
| I shall beseech him to befriend himself. |
| Por. Why, know'st thou any harm's intended towards him? |
| Sooth. None that I know will be, much that I fear may chance. |
| Good morrow to you. Here the street is narrow: |
| The throng that follows Cæsar at the heels, |
| Of senators, of prætors, common suitors, |
| Will crowd a feeble man almost to death: |
| I'll get me to a place more void, and there |
| Speak to great Cæsar as he comes along. [Exit. |
| Por. I must go in. Ay me! how weak a thing |
| The heart of woman is. O Brutus! |
| The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise. |
| Sure, the boy heard me: Brutus hath a suit |
| That Cæsar will not grant. O! I grow faint. |
| Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord; |
| Say I am merry: come to me again, |
| And bring me word what he doth say to thee. [Exeunt, severally. |
Design © 1995-2007 ZeFLIP.com All rights reserved.