Imatges de pÓgina
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Octavius Cæfar,
M. Antony,

Triumvirs, after the Death of Julius

M. Æmilius Lepidus,

Conspirators againf Julius Cæfar.
Decius Brutus,
Metellus Cimber,
Popilius Læna,


Tribunes and Enemies to Cæfar.

Friends to Brutus and Caflius.
Artemidorus, a Sophift of Cnidos.
A Soothsayer.
Young Cato.
Cinna, a Poet.
Anorber Poet.
Lucilius, โ

Servants to Brutus.

. Pindarus, Servant of Caffsus.

Ghost of Julius Cæfar,
Orber Plebeians.

Calphurnia, Wife to Cæfar.
Porcia, Wife to Brutus.

Gwards and Attendants.

SCENE, for the three first Aets, at Rome: afterwards, at an INe near Mutina; at Sardis; and Philippi.



A Street in Rome.

Enter Flavius, Marullus, and certain Gommoners,

ENCE; home, you idle creatures, get

you home;

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

Upon a labouring day, without the sign OF

your profeffion? speak, what crade are thou? Car. Why, Sir, a carpenter. Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule? What doft thou with thy beft apparel on?

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, chat, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience ; which is, indeed, Sir, a mender

You, Sir,


of bad foals.

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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.

Flav. What mean'st 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 tradesmen's matters, nor woman's matters ; but with-all, I am, indeed, Sir, a furgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever


upon neatsleather have gone upon my handy-work.

Flav. But wherefore are 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 maké holiday to see 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 worle than senseless things! O 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 see 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 Thores?


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
Affemble 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 most exalted shores of all,

[Exeunt Commoners.
See, whe're their basest mettle 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; difrobe the images,
If you do find them * 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. 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 fervile fearfulness. [Exeunt severally.

. - deck'd with ceremonies.] Ceremonies, for religious orna. ments. Thus afterwards he explains them by Cæfar's trophies ; i. e, fuch as he had dedicated to the Gods.

-foar above she view of men,] Paterculus fays of this Cesar, animo fuper humanam & naturam & fidem evectus, which is finely expreised, if we understand it to fignify that he aspired to a power that was contrary to the rights of nature, and to the duty and good faisb he owed bis country.

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Enter Cæsar, Antony, for the Course, Calphurnia,

Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, a
Cæf. Calphurnia,
Casc. Peace, ho! Cæfar speaks.
Cés. Calphurnia,
Calp. Here, my lord

C&T. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,
When he doth run his Course Antonius,

Ant. Cæfar, my lord.

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

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

Cæf. Set on, and leave no ceremony out.
Sooth Cæfar,
Cef. Ha! who calls ?
Casc Bid every noise be still: peace yet again.

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

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

Caf. Set him before me, let me see his face.
Caf. Fellow, come from the throng, look upon Cæsar.
Cél. What lay'st thou to me now? speak once again.
Sootb. Beware the Ides of March.
Cæf. He is a dreamer, let us leave him; pass,

[Exeunt Cæsar and Train.


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