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Cap. Moft willing, Madam.
Cath. In which I have commended to his goodness,
To love her for her mother's fake, that lov'd him,
A right good husband; let him be a noble;
If Heaven had plots'd to've given me longer life,
These are the whole contents. And, good my Lord',,
Cap. By Heaven, I will;
Or let me lofe the fafhion of a man!
Cath. I thank you, honest Lord.
In all humility unto his Highness;
I was a chafte wife to my grave; embalm me,
Exeunt, leading Catharine.
No. XVII-JULIUS CAESAR.
Boy! Lucius!-Faft afleep. It is no matter;
Enjoy the honey heavy due of flumber.
Por. Brutus, my Lord!
Bru. Fortia, what mean you? Wherefore rife you now? It is not for your health, thus to commit Your weak condition to the raw cold morning.
For. Nor for your's neither. You've ungently, Brutus, Stol'n from my bed; and, yefternight at fupper, You fuddenly arose and walk'd about, Mufing and fighing with your arms across; And, when I afk'd you what the matter was, You ftar'd upon me with ungentle looks. I urged you further; then you fcratch'd your head, And too impatiently famp'd with your foot: Yet I infifted; yet you anfwer'd not; But with an angry wafture of your hand Gave fign for me to leave you; fo I did, Fearing to frengthen that impatience, Which feem'd too much inkindled; and, withal, Hoping it was but an effect of humour, Which fometimes hath his hour with every man. It will not let you cat, nor talk, nor Лleep; And could it work fo much upon your shape,
As it hath much prevail'd on your condition,
Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all.
Bru. Kneel not, gentle Portia.
Por. I fhould not need, if you were gentle, Brutus, Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, Is it excepted, I fhould know no fecrets That appertain to you? Am I yourself But, as it were, in fort or limitation, To keep with you at meals, confort your bed, And talk to you fometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs Of your good pleasure ? If it be no more,
Then am I Brutus' harlot, not his wife.
Bru. You are my true and honourable wife;
Por. If this were true, then should I know this fecret.] I grant, I am a woman; but, withal,
A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife;
I grant, I am a woman, but, withal,
Here, in the thigh: can I bear that with patience,
Bru. O ye Gods!
Render me worthy of this noble wife.
Hark, hark, one knocks! Portia, go in awhile;
All my engagements I will conftrue to thee,
No. XVII.-JULIUS CESAR.
ACT III. SCENE II. The Forum..
Enter Brutus, and mounts the Roftra; Caffius with the Plebeians.
E will be fatisfied.
Bru. Then follow me, and give me audience, friends. Caffius, go you into the other freet,
And part the numbers.
Let us be fatisfied..
Thofe that will hear me speak, let 'em ftay here;
Of Cafar's death.
1 Pleb. I will hear Brutus speak..
2 Pleb. I will hear Caffius, and compare their reafons, When feverally we hear them rendered.
[Exit Caffius, with fome of the Plebeians.. 3 Pleb. The noble Brutus is afcended. Silence!
Bru. Be patient till the last. ̈
Romans, Countrymen, and Lovers! hear me for my cause; and be filent, that you may hear. Believe me for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe. Cenfure me in your wisdom, and awake your fenfes, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this affembly, any dear friend of Cafar's, to him I fay, that Brutus's love to Cafar was no lefs than his. If then that friend demand, why Brutus rose against Cafar, this is my answer: Not that I loved Cafar lefs, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cafar were living, and die all flaves, than that Cæfar were dead, to live all free men? As Cafar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him; but as he was ambitious, I flew him. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honour for his valour, and death for his ambition.
Who is here fo base, that would be a bond-man?
Who is here fo rude, that would not be a Roman ?
If any, fpeak; for him have I offended.
Who is here fo vile, that will not love his country?
All. None, Brutus, none.
Bru. Then none have I offended.
I have done no more to Cæfar, than you fhall do to BruThe question of his death is inroll'd in the Capitol ; his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death.
Enter Mark Antony with Cæfar's body.
Here comes his body, mourn'd by Mark Antony, who, though he had no hand in his death, fhall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth; as which of you fhall not? With this I depart, that, as I flew my. beft lover for the good of Rome, I have the fame dagger for myfelf, when it fhall please my country to need my death.
All. Live, Brutus, live! live!
1 Pleb. Bring him with triumph home unto his house. 2 Pleb. Give him a statue with his ancestors.