William Shakespeare - Julius Caesar Act 2 Scene 4 lyrics

SCENE IV. Another part of the same street, before the house of BRUTUS. 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 pa** 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 d**h: 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