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He says he does, being then most flattered.

Let me work;

For I can give his humor the true bent,

And I will bring him to the Capitol.

CASSIUS.

Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.

BRUTUS.

By the eighth hour. Is that the utter most?

CINNA.

Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.

METELLUS.

Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard,

Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey.

I wonder none of you have thought of him.

BRUTUS.

Now, good Metellus, go along by him.

He loves me well, and I have given him reasons;

Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him.

CASSIUS.

The morning comes upon 's. We'll leave you, Brutus,

And, friends, disperse yourselves, but all remember

What you have said and show yourselves true Romans.

BRUTUS.

Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily;

Let not our looks put on our purposes,

But bear it as our Roman actors do,

With untired spirits and formal constancy.

And so, good morrow to you every one.

Exeunt all but Brutus.

Boy! Lucius! Fast asleep? It is no matter.

Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber;

Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies,

Which busy care draws in the brains of men;

Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.

Enter Portia.

PORTIA. Brutus, my lord!

BRUTUS.

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.

PORTIA.

Nor for yours neither. 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;

And when I ask'd you what the matter was,

You stared upon me with ungentle looks.

I urged you further; then you scratch'd your head,

And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot.

Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not,

But with an angry waiter of your hand

Gave sign for me to leave you. So I did,

Fearing to strengthen that impatience

Which seem'd too much enkindled, and withal

Hoping it was but an effect of humor,

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.

BRUTUS.

I am not well in health, and that is all.

PORTIA.

Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health,

He would embrace the means to come by it.

BRUTUS.

Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed.

PORTIA.

Is Brutus sick, and is it physical

To walk unbraced and suck up the humors

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 offense within your mind,

Which by the right and virtue of my place

I ought to know of; and, 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 tonight

Have had resort to you; for here have been

Some six or seven, who did hide their faces

Even from darkness.

BRUTUS.

Kneel not, gentle Portia.

PORTIA.

I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus.

Within the bond of marriage, tell me, 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.

BRUTUS.

You are my true and honorable wife,

As dear to me as are the ruddy drops

That visit my sad heart.

PORTIA.

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.

Think you I am no stronger than my sex,

Being so father'd and so husbanded?

Tell me your counsels,