Is guilty of a several bastardy If he do break the smallest particle Of any promise that hath pass'd from him. Cas. But what of Cicero? shall we sound him? Cin. No, by no means. And buy men's voices to commend our deeds: Bru. O, name him not: let us not break with him; For he will never follow anything That other men begin. Cas. Then leave him out. Casca. Indeed he is not fit. Dec. Shall no man else be touch'd but only Cæsar? Cas. Decius, well urg'd.-I think it is not meet Mark Antony, so well belov'd of Cæsar, Should outlive Cæsar: we shall find of him A shrewd contriver; and, you know, his means, If he improve them, may well stretch so far As to annoy us all: which to prevent, Let Antony and Cæsar fall together. Bru. Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius, To cut the head off and then hack the limbs, Like wrath in death and envy afterwards; For Antony is but a limb of Cæsar: Let's be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius. We all stand up against the spirit of Cæsar; And in the spirit of men there is no blood: O that we, then, could come by Cæsar's spirit, And not dismember Cæsar! But, alas, Cæsar 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 let our hearts, as subtle masters do, Stir up their servants to an act of rage, And after seem to chide 'em. 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 Cæsar's arm Cas. Yet I fear him; Is to himself, take thought and die for Cæsar: Treb. There is no fear in him; let him not die; For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter. [Clock strikes. Bru. Peace, count the clock. Cas. Treb. "Tis time to part. The clock hath stricken three. Cas. For I can give his humour the true bent, Cas. Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him. Cas. The morning comes upon 's: we'll leave you, Brutus: Let not our looks put on our purposes; [Exeunt all but BRUTUS. Boy! Lucius!-Fast asleep? it is no matter; Por. Enter PORTIA. 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 have ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed: and yesternight, at supper, You suddenly arose, and walk'd about, Musing and sighing, with your arms across; I urg'd you further; then you scratch'd your head, Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all. To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus; Bru. Kneel not, gentle Portia. 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. Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose 'em Here in the thigh: can I bear that with patience, Bru. O ye gods, [Knocking within. Render me worthy of this noble wife! Hark, hark! one knocks: Portia, go in awhile; The secrets of my heart: All my engagements I will construe to thee, VOL. V. [Exit PORTIA. Lucius, who's that knocks? N Enter LUCIS with LIGARIUS. Luc. Here is a sick man that would speak with you. Lig. Vouchsafe good-morrow from a feeble tongue. Bru. Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius, Lig. By all the gods that Romans bow before, Yea, get the better of them. What's to do? Bru. A piece of work that will make sick men whole. Lig. But are not some whole that we must make sick? Bru. That must we also. What it is, my Caius, I shall unfold to thee, as we are going To whom it must be done. Lig. Bru. SCENE II.-ROME. Thunder and lightning. Follow me, then. [Exeunt. A Room in CESAR's Palace. Enter CÆSAR in his night-gown. Caes. Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace to-night: Thrice hath Calphurnia in her sleep cried out, Help, ho! They murder Casar!-Who's within? Serv. My lord? Enter a Servant. Cas. Go bid the priests do present sacrifice, And bring me their opinions of success. Serv. I will, my lord. Enter CALPHURNIA. [Exit. Cal. What mean you, Cæsar? Think you to walk forth? You shall not stir out of your house to-day. |