Imatges de pÓgina

ACT 1.


A Street in Rome.

Enter Flavius, 'Marullus, and certain Commoners.


ENCE; home, you idle creatures, get you

Is this a holiday? What! know you not,
Being mechanical, you ought not walk
Upon a labouring day without the sign
Of your profesion?--Speak, what trade art thou ?

Car. Why, Sir, a carpenter.
Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule ?
What dost thou with thy best apparel on?
-You, Sir, what trade are you?

Cob. Truly, Sir, in respect of a fine workınan, I
am but, as you would say, a cobler.
Mar. But what trade art thou? Answer me di-

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

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Murellus.] I have, upon the authority of Plutarch, &c. given to this tribune, his right name Marulius.



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2 Mar. What meanest 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 surgeon to old shoes ; when they are in great danger, I re-cover 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 see Cæsar, 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 flones, you worse than fenseless

things !
O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,
Knew ye not Pompey ? Many a time and oft


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 see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome:
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal shout,

» Mar. What mean's 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. THEOBALD.

I have replaced Marullus, who might properly enough reply to a faucy sentence directed to his colleague, and to whom the speech was probably given, that he might not stand too long unemployed upon the stage.



That Tyber trembled underneath his banks
To hear the replication of your sounds,
Made in his concave shores?
And do you now put on your best attire?
And do you now cull out an holiday ?
And do you now strew Aowers 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 this

Assemble all the poor men of your sort ;
Draw them to Tyber's bank, and weep your tears
Into the channel, 'till the lowest stream
Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.

[Exeunt Commoners.
See whe'r their baseft metal be not mov'd ;
They vanish tongue-cy'd in their guiltiness.
Go you down that way towards the Capitol,
This way will I : Disrobe the images,
If you do find them 3 deck'd with ceremonies.

Mar. May we do so?
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.

3 - deck'd with ceremonies.] Ceremonies, for religious ornaments. Thus afterwards he explains them by Cafar's tropbies ; i. e. such as he had dedicated to the Gods.

WARBURTON. Cæsar's trophies, are I believe the crowns which were placed on his ftatues. So in Sir Tho. Norib's Translation. " There were set up images of Cæsar in the city with diadems on their heads like kings. Those the two tribunes went and pulled down,”


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These growing feathers pluckt from Cæsar's wing,
Will make him Ay an ordinary pitch ;
Who else would loar above the view of men,
And keep us all in servile fearfulness.

(Exeunt severally. S C Ε Ν Ε ΙΙ. Enter Casar ; Antony for the course; Calphurnia,

Portia, * Decills, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Casca,
a Soothsayer.
Ciff. Calphurnia,
Casca. Peace, ho! Czfar speaks.
Cef. Calphurnia,
Calp. Here, my Lord.

Caf. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,
When he doth run his Course. Antonius;

Ant. Cælar, My Lord.

Cæf. Forget not in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calphurnia: for our Elders say,

4 This person was not Decius, but Decimus Brutus. The poet (as ļoltaire has done înce) confounds the characters of Marcus and Decimus. Decimus Brutus was the most cherished by Cafar of all his friends, while Marcus kept aloof, and declined so large a share of his favours and honours as the other had constantly accepted. Velleius Paterculus, speaking of Decimus Brutus, says-ab iis quos miserat Antonius, jugulatus est, justissimasque optimè de le merito, C. Cæsari penas dedit, cujus cum primus omnium amicorum fuiffet, interfector fuit, et fortunæ ex qua fructum tulerat, invidiam in auctorem relegabat, cenfebatque æquum quæ acceperat a Cafare retinere, Cæsarem qui illa dederat periiffe. Lib. ii. c. 64.

Jungitur his Decimus notissimus inter amicos
Casaris, ingratus, cui trans- Alpina fuiflet
Gallia Cæsareo nuper commissa favore.
Non illum conjuncta fides, non nomen amici
Deterrere poteit.
Ante alios Decimus, cui fallere, nomen amici
Præcipue dederat, ductorem fæpe morantem
Incitat.-Suplem. Lucuni.



The barrén, touched in this holy chase,
Shake off their steril curse.

Ant. I shall remember:
When Cæsar says, do this, it is perform’d.

Caf. Set on; and leave no ceremony out.
Sooth. Cæsar,
Cef. Ha! who calls ?
Casca. Bid every noise be still:-Peace! Yet again?

C&f. Who is it in the press, that calls on me?
I hear a tongue, shriller than all the musick,
Cry, Cæsar. Speak; Cæsar is turn’d to hear.

Sootb. Beware the Ides of March.
Cæf. What man is that?
Bru. A foothsayer bids you beware the Ides of

Caf. Set him before me ; let me see his face.

Casca. Fellow, come from the throng. Look upon
Caf. What say'st thou to me now? Speak once

again. Sooth. Beware the Ides of March. Cæf. He is a dreamer ; let us leave him :-Pass.

[ Sennet. Exeunt Cæfar and Train.
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, Caflius, your desires;

I'll leave you.

s I have here inserted the word Sinnet, from the original edition, that I may have an opportunity of retracting a hatty conjecture in one of the marginal directions in Henry VIII. Sennt appears to be a particular tune or mode of martial musick. Johns.

I have been informed that Sennet is derived from Sennejte, an antiquated French tune formerly used in the army, but the Dictionaries which I have consulted exhibit no such word. STREVENS.


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