ARKCODEX
Act II, Scene 4
1Another part of the same street, before the house of Brutus.
2Enter Portia and Lucius.
3PortiaI prithee, boy, run to the senate-house;
Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone:
Why dost thou stay?
4LuciusTo know my errand, madam.
5PortiaI 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?
6LuciusMadam, what should I do?
Run to the Capitol, and nothing else?
And so return to you, and nothing else?
7PortiaYes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord look well,
For he went sickly forth: and take good note
What Caesar doth, what suitors press to him.
Hark, boy! what noise is that?
8LuciusI hear none, madam.
9PortiaPrithee, listen well;
I heard a bustling rumour, like a fray,
And the wind brings it from the Capitol.
10LuciusSooth, madam, I hear nothing.
11Enter the Soothsayer.
12PortiaCome hither, fellow: which way hast thou been?
13SoothsayerAt mine own house, good lady.
14PortiaWhat is’t o’clock?
15SoothsayerAbout the ninth hour, lady.
16PortiaIs Caesar yet gone to the Capitol?
17SoothsayerMadam, not yet: I go to take my stand,
To see him pass on to the Capitol.
18PortiaThou hast some suit to Caesar, hast thou not?
19SoothsayerThat I have, lady: if it will please Caesar
To be so good to Caesar as to hear me,
I shall beseech him to befriend himself.
20PortiaWhy, know’st thou any harm’s intended towards him?
21SoothsayerNone that I know will be, much that I fear may chance.
Good morrow to you. Here the street is narrow:
The throng that follows Caesar at the heels,
Of senators, of praetors, common suitors,
Will crowd a feeble man almost to death:
I’ll get me to a place more void, and there
Speak to great Caesar as he comes along. Exit.
22PortiaI 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 Caesar 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.