Act II, Scene iv:
Another part of the same street, before the house of

Brutus.

[Enter Portia and Lucius.]

PORTIA:

I pr'ythee, 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.—

[Aside.] 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:

Pr'ythee, 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 Artemidorus.]

PORTIA:

Come hither, fellow:

Which way hast thou been?

ARTEMIDORUS:

At mine own house, good lady.

PORTIA:

What is't o'clock?

ARTEMIDORUS:

About the ninth hour, lady.

PORTIA:

Is Caesar yet gone to the Capitol?

ARTEMIDORUS:

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?

ARTEMIDORUS:

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?

ARTEMIDORUS:

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.—[Aside.]Ah 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.]