Front Page Titles (by Subject) Scene IV.—: The Same. Another Part of the same Street, before the House ofBrutus. - Julius Cæsar
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Scene IV.—: The Same. Another Part of the same Street, before the House ofBrutus. - William Shakespeare, Julius Cæsar 
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, ed. with a glossary by W.J. Craig M.A. (Oxford University Press, 1916).
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The Same. Another Part of the same Street, before the House ofBrutus.
I prithee, boy, run to the senate-house;
Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone.
Why dost thou stay?
To know my errand, madam.
I would have had thee there, and here again,
Ere I can tell thee what thou shouldst do there.
O constancy! be strong upon my side;
Set a huge mountain ’tween my heart and tongue;
I have a man’s mind, but a woman’s might.
How hard it is for women to keep counsel!
Art thou here yet?
Madam, what shall I do?
Run to the Capitol, and nothing else?
And so return to you, and nothing else?
Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord look well,
For he went sickly forth; and take good note
What Cæsar doth, what suitors press to him.
Hark, boy! what noise is that?
I hear none, madam.
Prithee, listen well:
I heard a bustling rumour, like a fray,
And the wind brings it from the Capitol.
Sooth, madam, I hear nothing.
Enter the Soothsayer.
Come hither, fellow: which way hast thou been?
At mine own house, good lady.
What is ’t o’clock?
About the ninth hour, lady.
Is Cæsar yet gone to the Capitol?
Madam, not yet: I go to take my stand,
To see him pass on to the Capitol.
Thou hast some suit to Cæsar, hast thou not?
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.
Why, know’st thou any harm’s intended towards him?
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.
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.