The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (891 page)

We still don’t know if Caesar will show in the Capitol today. He has been very superstitious lately.

Decius Brutus

Never fear that: if he be so resolved,


I can o'ersway him, for he loves to hear


That unicorns may be betray'd with trees,


And bears with glasses, elephants with holes,


Lions with toils, and men with flatterers:


But when I tell him he hates flatterers,


He says he does, being then most flattered.


Let me work;


For I can give his humor the true bent,


And I will bring him to the Capitol.

Don’t worry. I can get him to the Capitol. He loves to hear flattery, so I will get him there by flattering him.

Cassius

Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.

No, we will all go to get him.

Brutus

By the eighth hour: is that the uttermost?

By eight o’clock. Is that the time?

Cinna

Be that the uttermost; and fail not then.

I think so.

Metellus Cimber

Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard,


Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey:


I wonder none of you have thought of him.

Caius Ligarius has reason to hate Caesar for berating him when he spoke well of Pompey. Have any of you thought about him?

Brutus

Now, good Metellus, go along by him:


He loves me well, and I have given him reason;


Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him.

Good, Metellus. Go get him. He loves me, as well he should. Send him here and I’ll convince him.

Cassius

The morning comes upon 's. We'll leave you, Brutus;--


And, friends, disperse yourselves, but all remember


What you have said, and show yourselves true Romans.

The morning is here. We’ll leave you, Brutus. Friends, let’s go our separate ways, but remember what you have said here, and show yourselves as true Romans.

Brutus

Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily;


Let not our looks put on our purposes,


But bear it as our Roman actors do,


With untired spirits and formal constancy:


And so, good morrow to you every one.--

Good gentlemen, you must look fresh and happy. You cannot let on our purpose with your appearances. Let’s be like Roman actors, tireless spirits and well-composed faces.

Exit all but Brutus.

Boy! Lucius!--Fast asleep? It is no matter;


Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber:


Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies,


Which busy care draws in the brains of men;


Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.

Boy! Lucius! Are you asleep? No matter. Enjoy the heavenly state of sleep. You have nothing to keep you from sleeping soundly.

Enter Portia

Portia

Brutus, my lord!

Brutus, my lord!

Brutus

Portia, what mean you? wherefore rise you now?


It is not for your health thus to commit


Your weak condition to the raw-cold morning.

Portia, what are you doing up? It’s not healthy for you to be up in the cold morning air in your weak condition.

Portia

Nor for yours neither. You've ungently, Brutus,


Stole from my bed: and yesternight, at supper,


You suddenly arose, and walk'd about,


Musing and sighing, with your arms across;


And, when I ask'd you what the matter was,


You stared upon me with ungentle looks:


I urged you further; then you scratch'd your head,


And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot:


Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not;


But, with an angry wafture of your hand,


Gave sign for me to leave you. So I did;


Fearing to strengthen that impatience


Which seem'd too much enkindled; and withal


Hoping it was but an effect of humour,


Which sometime hath his hour with every man.


It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep;


And, could it work so much upon your shape


As it hath much prevail'd on your condition,


I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord,


Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.

It’s not good for you, either. You urgently go up from bed, Brutus, and yesterday, at dinner, you suddenly got up and walked around thinking and sighing with your arms crossed. When I asked you what the matter was, you stared at me angrily. You stomped your foot when I inquired more. Then, you refused to answer me and waved me off. I don’t know what is wrong with you, but you can’t eat, or talk, or sleep. You’re just not yourself, Brutus. Please, tell me what’s wrong with you.

Brutus

I am not well in health, and that is all.

I just haven’t been feeling well, lately.

Portia

Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health,


He would embrace the means to come by it.

You are a smart man, and if your health were compromised, you would seek treatment.

Brutus

Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed.

I am. Now, go to bed, dear Portia.

Portia

Is Brutus sick? and is it physical


To walk unbraced and suck up the humours


Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick,


And will he steal out of his wholesome bed


To dare the vile contagion of the night,


And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air


To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus;


You have some sick offense within your mind,


Which, by the right and virtue of my place,


I ought to know of: and, upon my knees,


I charge you, by my once commended beauty,


By all your vows of love, and that great vow


Which did incorporate and make us one,


That you unfold to me, yourself, your half,


Why you are heavy, and what men to-night


Have had resort to you; for here have been


Some six or seven, who did hide their faces


Even from darkness.

Are you sick? It can’t be something physical, if you’re walking around in the damp morning. And, what makes you get out of bed to dare the germs that are in the night air. No, Brutus, you are not sick, unless it is in your mind. You are my husband, so I know. Now, tell me why you are so heavy-hearted. Who were the men you talking to?  I saw six or seven here in the dark.

Brutus

Kneel not, gentle Portia.

Don’t ask, Portia.

Portia

I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus.


Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus,


Is it excepted I should know no secrets


That appertain to you? Am I yourself


But, as it were, in sort or limitation,--


To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed,


And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs


Of your good pleasure? If it be no more,


Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife.

I wouldn’t have to if you were honest to your marriage vows. Tell me, Brutus. Am I not to know everything about my husband? Am I just supposed to spend time with you at meals and at bedtime? If so, I’m not your wife, I’m your whore.

Brutus

You are my true and honorable wife;


As dear to me as are the ruddy drops


That visit my sad heart.

You are my wonderful and honorable wife. You are so dear to me.

Portia

If this were true, then should I know this secret.


I grant I am a woman; but withal


A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife:


I grant I am a woman; but withal


A woman well reputed, Cato's daughter.


Think you I am no stronger than my sex,


Being so father'd and so husbanded?


Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose 'em.


I have made strong proof of my constancy,


Giving myself a voluntary wound


Here in the thigh: can I bear that with patience


And not my husband's secrets?

If this is true, then I should know this secret. Granted, I am just a woman, but I am the woman you chose to be your wife. I am the daughter of Cato, but you don’t think I am very strong. Tell me your secret and I will not tell a soul. I have proven my faithfulness, by giving myself a wound in my thigh. If I can bear that pain, then I can bear my husband’s secrets.

Brutus

O ye gods,


Render me worthy of this noble wife!

Oh, gods, make me worthy of this noble wife.

Knocking within.

Hark, hark, one knocks: Portia, go in awhile;


And by and by thy bosom shall partake


The secrets of my heart:


All my engagements I will construe to thee,


All the charactery of my sad brows.


Leave me with haste.

Hello! Someone is knocking, Portia. Please go in awhile, and I will come in and tell you what’s going on. Hurry and leave.

Exit Portia.

--Lucius, who's that knocks?

Lucius, who’s knocking?

Re-enter Lucius with Ligarius.

Lucius

Here is a sick man that would speak with you.

A sick man is here and he wants to speak with you.

Brutus

Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of.--


Boy, stand aside.--Caius Ligarius,--how?

Caius Ligarius, you are the one Metellus spoke of. Lucius, go away. How are you, Ligarius?

Ligarius

Vouchsafe good-morrow from a feeble tongue.

Good morning. I am not feeling well.

Brutus

O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius,


To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick!

What a time to be sick, brave Caius. You should cover your head and you would not be sick!

Ligarius

I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand


Any exploit worthy the name of honour.

I am not sick, if you have something worthy for me to do.

Brutus

Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius,


Had you a healthful ear to hear of it.

I do, if you are healthy enough to hear it.

Ligarius

By all the gods that Romans bow before,


I here discard my sickness. Soul of Rome!


Brave son, derived from honorable loins!


Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjured up


My mortified spirit. Now bid me run,


And I will strive with things impossible;


Yea, get the better of them. What's to do?