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  • Brutus, my lord.
  • It is not for your health thus to commit your weak condition to the cold morning.
  • Portia! What mean you?
  • Nor for yours neither.
  • Y'have ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed. 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 star'd upon me with ungentle looks. Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not,
  • I am not well in health, and that is all.
  • He doesn't trust me...
  • Brutus is wise, and were he not in health He wouldnembrace the means to come by it.
  • If I stab myself, I'll show him that I'm strong, and that he can trust me.
  • O ye gods, Render me worthy of this noble wife!
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