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From “Julius Cæsar,” Act II. Sc. 1. Enter P ORTIA. | |
| 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. You ’ve ungently, Brutus, | 5 |
| Stole from my bed; and yesternight, at supper, | |
| You suddenly arose and walked about, | |
| Musing and sighing, with your arms across; | |
| And, when I asked you what the matter was, | |
| You stared upon me with ungentle looks. | 10 |
| I urged you further; then you scratched your head, | |
| And too impatiently stamped with your foot. | |
| Yet I insisted, yet you answered not, | |
| But with an angry wafture of your hand | |
| Gave sign for me to leave you. So I did; | 15 |
| Fearing to strengthen that impatience | |
| Which seemed 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, | 20 |
| And, could it work so much upon your shape | |
| As it hath much prevailed 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. | 25 |
| 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 | 30 |
| 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 unpurgèd air | |
| To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus; | 35 |
| You have some sick offence 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 | 40 |
| 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 | 45 |
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 | 50 |
| But, as it were, in sort of 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. | 55 |
| 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 | 60 |
| 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 fathered and so husbanded? | 65 |
| Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose ’em: | |
| I have made strong proof of my constancy, | |
| Giving myself a voluntary wound | |
| Here in the thigh; can I bear that with patience, | |
And not my husband’s secrets?
BRUTUS.— O, ye gods, | 70 |
| Render me worthy of this noble wife!— | |
(Knocking within.) Hark, hark! 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 cónstrue to thee, | 75 |
| All the charáctery of my sad brows. | |
| Leave me with haste.— (Exit PORTIA.) | |
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