| [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. |
| [Exit] | |
| 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. |
| [Exeunt severally] |