Page 2191 - Shakespeare - Vol. 2

I here discard my sickness.
[He throws off his kerchief.]
Soul of Rome,
Brave son, derived from honourable loins,

Thou like an exorcist hast conjured up
My mortifièd spirit. Now bid me run, [325]
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?

BRUTUS
That must we also. What it is, my Caius, [330]
I shall unfold to thee, as we are going,
To whom it must be done.

LIGARIUS
Set on your foot,

And with a heart new-fired I follow you,
To do I know not what; but it sufficeth
That Brutus leads me on.
Thunder.

BRUTUS

Follow me, then. [335]
Exeunt.

Scene II IT

Thunder and lightning. Enter Julius Caesar in his nightgown.

CAESAR

Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace tonight.