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.
[Aside.] 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.