Enter PORTIA and LUCIUS
- Portia. I prithee, boy, run to the senate-house;
Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone:
Why dost thou stay?
- Lucius. To know my errand, madam.
- Portia. 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?
- Lucius. Madam, what should I do?
Run to the Capitol, and nothing else?
And so return to you, and nothing else?
- Portia. Yes, 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?
- Lucius. I hear none, madam.
- Portia. Prithee, listen well;
I heard a bustling rumour, like a fray,
And the wind brings it from the Capitol.
- Lucius. Sooth, madam, I hear nothing.
Enter the Soothsayer
- Portia. Come hither, fellow: which way hast thou been?
- Soothsayer. At mine own house, good lady.
- Portia. What is't o'clock?
- Soothsayer. About the ninth hour, lady.
- Portia. Is Caesar yet gone to the Capitol?
- Soothsayer. Madam, not yet: I go to take my stand,
To see him pass on to the Capitol.
- Portia. Thou hast some suit to Caesar, hast thou not?
- Soothsayer. That 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.
- Portia. Why, know'st thou any harm's intended towards him?
- Soothsayer. 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 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.
- Portia. 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 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.