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Sooth. At mine own house, good lady.

Por. What is 't o'clock?

Sooth. About the ninth hour, lady.

Por. Is Cæsar yet gone to the Capitol?

Sooth. Madam, not yet: I go to take my stand, To see him pass on to the Capitol.

Por. Thou hast some suit to Cæsar, hast thou not?

Sooth. That I have, lady: if it will please Cæsar To be so good to Cæsar as to hear me, I shall beseech him to befriend himself.

Por. Why, know'st thou any harm's intended towards him?

Sooth. 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 Cæsar at the heels, Of senators, of prætors, common suitors, Will crowd a feeble man almost to death: I'll get me to a place more void, and there Speak to great Cæsar as he comes along.

Por. 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 Cæsar 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.  37 void: open