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JULIUS CÆSAR.

.

А с т І. SCENE, a Street in ROME. Enter Flavius, (1) Marullus, and certain Commoners.

FL A V I US. *ENCE; home, you idle creatures, get you

home; H

Is this a holiday? what! know you not, *** Being mechanical, you ought not walk

Upon a labouring day, without the fign Of your profession? speak, what trade art thou ?

Car. Why, Sir, a carpenter.

Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule ?
What doft thou with thy best apparel on?
You, Sir, -What trade are you?

Cob. Truly, Sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobler.

Mar. But what trade art thou ? answer me directly.

Cob. A trade, Sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, Sir, a mender of badi foals.

(1) Murellus.] I have, upon the Authority of Plutarch, &c. given to this Tribune, his right Name, Marullus, A 1

Flav.

Flav. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?

Cob. Nay, I beseech you, Sir, be not out with me: yet if you be out, Sir, I can mend

you. (2) Flav. What mean't thou by that? mend me, thou saucy fellow?

Cob. Why, Sir, cobble' you.
Flav. Thou art a cobler, art thou ?

Cob. Truly, Sir, all, that I live by, is the awl: I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor woman's matters; but with all, I am, indeed, Sir, a furgeon to old fhoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neats-leather have gone upon my handy-work.

Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets ?

Cob. Truly, Sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, Sir, we make holiday to fee Cæfar, and to rejoice in his triumph. Mar. Wherefore rejoice !--what conquest brings he

home? What tributaries, follow him to Rome, To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels? You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things ! 0

you hard hearts ! you cruel men of Rome! Knew you not Pompey? many a time and oft Have

you

climb'd up to walls and battlements, To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops, Your infants in your arms; and there have fate 'The live-long day with patient expectation, To fee great Pompey pass the streets of Rome : And when

you

saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made an universal shout, That Tyber trembled underneath his banks To hear the replication of your sounds, Made in his concave shores ?

(2) Mar. What means tbou by that ] As the Cobler, in the preceding Speech, replies to Flavius, not to Marullus ; 'tis plain, I think, this Speech must be given to Flavius,

And

And do you now put on your best attire ?
And do you now cull out an holiday !
And do you now strew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood ?

Be gone

Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the Gods, to intermit the plague,
That needs must light on this ingratitude.

Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and for that fault Assemble all the

poor
men of

your fort;
Draw them to Tyber's bank, and weep your tears
Into the channel, 'till the lowest stream
Do kiss the moft exalted shores of all.

[Exeunt Commoners.
See, whe're their basest metal be not mov'd;
They vanish tongue-ty'd in their guiltiness.
Go you down that way tow'rds the Capitol,
This way will I ; disrobe the images,
If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies,

Mar. May we do fo?
You know, it is the feast of Lupercal.

Flav. It is no matter, let no images
Be hung with Cæsar's trophies; I'll about,
And drive away the vulgar from the streets :
So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
These growing feathers, pluckt from Cæsar's wing,
Will make him fly an ordinary pitch ;
Who else would foar above the view of men,
And keep us all in servile fearfulness. [Exeunt severally,

Enter Cæsar, Antony, for the Course, Calphurnia, Porcia,
Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Caffius, Casca, a Soothsayer,
Cæf. Calphurnia,
Casca. Peace, ho! Cæfar speaks.
Cef. Calphurnia,
Calp. Here, my Lord.

Cæs. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,
When he doth run his Course Antonius,
Ant. Cæfar, my Lord.

Caf,

A 4

Caf. Forget not in your speed, Antonius,
To touch Calphurnia; for our Elders say,
The barren, touched in this holy chase,
Shake off their steril curse.

Ant. I shall remember.
When Cæfar fays, do this; it is perform’d.

Caf. Set on, and leave no ceremony out.
Sooth. Cæfar,
Cæf. Ha! who calls ?
Casca. Bid every noise be ftill; peace yet again.

Cæs. Who is it in the Press, that calls on me
I hear a tongue, Thriller than all the musick,
Cry, Cæfar. Speak; Cefar is turn'd to hear.

Sootb. Beware the Ides of March.
Cæs. What man is that?
Bru. A footh-layer bids you beware the Ides of March.
Cæs. Set him before me, let me see his face.
Casca. Fellow, come from the throng, look upon Cæfar.
Cål. What fay!ft thou to me now speak once again.
Sooth. Beware the Ides of March.
Cæs. He is a dreamer, let us leave him ; pass.

-[Exeunt Cæfar and Train,
Manent Brutus and Caffius.
Caf. Will you go see the order of the Course ?
Bru. Not I.
Caf. I pray you, do.

Bru. I am not gamesome; I do lack some part
Of that quick spirit that is in Antony :
Let me not hinder, Casius, your desires ;
I'll leave you.

.Caf. Brutus, I do observe you now of late;
I have not from your eyes that gentleness
And shew of love, as I was wont to have;
You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand

friend that loves you.
Bru. Cassius,
Be not deceiv'd : if I have veil'd my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Meerly upon myself. Vexed I am,

Of

Over your

Of late, with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself;
Which give some foil, perhaps, to my behaviour :
But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd,
Among which number, Caffius, be you one ;
Nor construe any farther my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the shews of love to other men.

Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passions
By means whereof, this breast of mine hath buried
Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?

Bru. No, Caffius; for the eye fees not itself,
But by reflexion from some other things.

Cas. "Tis juit.
And it is very much lamented, Brutas,
That you have no such mirrors, as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
That you might fee your shadow.' I have heard,
Where

many

of the best respect in Rome, (Except immortal Cæfar) speaking of Brutus, And groaning underneath this age's yoke, Have wish'd, that noble Brutus had his eyes.

Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Cafius, That you would have me feek into myself, For that which is not in me?

Caf. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepard to hear ;
And since you know, you cannot see yourself
So well as by reflexion ; I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to yourself
That of yourself, which yet you know not of
And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus :
Were I a common laughter, or did use
To stale with ordinary oaths my

love
To every new próteftor; if you know,
That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
And after scandal them; or if you know,
That I profess myfelf in banqueting
To all the rout, then hold me. dangerous.

[Flourish and Mout. A 5

Bru..

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