JULIUS CESAR. ACT I. SCENE, a Street in ROME. Enter Flavius, (1) Marullus, and certain Commoners. H FLAVIU s. ENCE; home, you idle creatures, get you Is this a holiday? what! know you not, 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 refpect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would fay, a cobler. Mar. But what trade art thou? anfwer me directly. Cob. A trade, Sir, that, I hope, I may ufe with a fafe confcience; which is, indeed, Sir, a mender of bad foals. (1) Murellus.] I have, upon the Authority of Plutarch, &c. given to this Tribune, his right Name, Marullus. Flav. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade? Cob. Nay, I befeech 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 faucy 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 tradefman'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 fhop to-day? Why doft thou lead these men about the streets? Cob. Truly, Sir, to wear out their fhoes, to get myfelf into more work. But, indeed, Sir, we make holiday to fee Cafar, and to rejoice in his triumph. Mar. Wherefore rejoice!what conqueft brings he home? What tributaries.follow him to Rome, Το grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels? You blocks, you ftones, you worse than senseless things! you hard hearts! you cruel men of Rome! Knew you not Pompey? many a time and oft (2) Mar. What mean'ft thou 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 beft attire ? Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and for that fault Affemble all the poor men of your fort; Draw them to Tyber's bank, and weep your tears [Exeunt Commoners. If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies. You know, it is the feast of Lupercal. Flav. It is no matter, let no images Who else would foar above the view of men, And keep us all in fervile fearfulness. [Exeunt feverally. Enter Cæfar, Antony, for the Course, Calphurnia, Porcia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Caffius, Cafca, a Soothsayer. Caf. Calphurnia,— Cafca. Peace, ho! Cæfar fpeaks. Caf. Calpburnia, Calp. Here, my Lord. Caf. Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his Courfe -Antonius, Ant. Cæfar, my Lord. A 4 Caf. Caf. Forget not in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calpburnia; for our Elders fay, The barren, touched in this holy chase, Shake off their steril curfe. Ant. I fhall remember. When Cafar fays, do this; it is perform'd. Caf. Ha! who calls? Cafca. Bid every noise be ftill; peace yet again. Bru. A footh-fayer bids you beware the Ides of March. Cafca. Fellow, come from the throng, look upon Cæfar. Caf. What fay'ft thou to me now? fpeak once again. Sooth. Beware the Ides of March. Caf. 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 ? Caf. I pray you, do. Bru. I am not gamefome; I do lack some part Let me not hinder, Caffius, your defires; Caf. Brutus, I do obferve you now of late; your Bru. Caffius, Be not deceiv'd: if I have veil'd my look, Meerly upon my felf. Vexed I am, Of Of late, with paffions of fome difference, Which give fome foil, perhaps, to my behaviour: Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war, Caf. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your paffion And it is very much lamented, Brutus, That you might fee your fhadow. I have heard, Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Caffius, Caf. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear; And fince you know, you cannot see yourself So well as by reflexion; I, your glass, Will modeftly 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 A 5 [Flourish and fhout.. Bru.. |