The Same. Another Part of the same Street, before the House of BRUTUS. |
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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. |
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