wafture

Nor for yours neither . You’ve ungently , Brutus ,
Stole from my bed . And yesternight at supper
You suddenly arose and walked about ,
Musing 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 hand
Gave sign for me to leave you . So I did ,
Fearing to strengthen that impatience
Which seemed too much enkindled , and withal
Hoping it was but an effect of humor ,
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 shape
As it hath much prevailed on your condition ,
I should not know you Brutus . Dear my lord ,
Make me acquainted with your cause of grief .