patience And not my husband’s secrets? 

BRUTUS. O ye gods, Render me worthy of this noble wife! 

 [Knock.]

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. 

 [Exit Portia.]

Portia

 Enter Lucius with Ligarius.

Lucius

Ligarius

Lucius, who’s that knocks?

LUCIUS. Here is a sick man that would speak with you. 

BRUTUS. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of. Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius, how? 

LIGARIUS. Vouchsafe good-morrow from a feeble tongue. 

BRUTUS. O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius, To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick! 

LIGARIUS. I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand Any exploit worthy the name of honour. 

BRUTUS. Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius, Had you a healthful ear to hear of it. 

LIGARIUS. By all the gods that Romans bow before, I here discard my sickness. Soul of Rome! Brave son, derived from honourable loins! Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjur’d 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? 

BRUTUS. A piece of work that will make sick men whole. 

LIGARIUS. But are not some whole that we must make sick? 

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