Read the excerpt from Julius Caesar, act 2, scene 1.PORTIA. Brutus, my lord.BRUTUS. Portia, what mean you? Wherefore rise you now?It is not for your health thus to commitYour weak condition to the raw cold morning.PORTIA. Nor for yours neither. You’ve ungently, Brutus,Stole from my bed; and yesternight at supperYou suddenly arose, and walked aboutMusing and sighing, with your arms across,And when I asked you what the matter was,You stared upon me with ungentle looks.I urged you further; then you scratched your head,And too impatiently stamped with your foot.Yet I insisted, yet you answered not,But with an angry wafture of your handGave sign for me to leave you. So I did,Fearing to strengthen that impatienceWhich seemed too much enkindled, and withalHoping it was but an effect of humour,Which sometime hath his hour with every man.It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep,And could it work so much upon your shapeAs it hath much prevailed on your condition,I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord,Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.BRUTUS. I am not well in health, and that is all.