ACT I.

SCENE I.

Rome. A Street.

Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and a rabble of Citizens.]

Flav. HENCE home, you idle creatures, get

Is this a holiday? What! know you not,
Being mechanical, you ought not walk,
Upon a labouring day, without the fign
Of your profeffion?-Speak, what trade art thou?
1. Cit. Why, fir, a carpenter.

Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule?
What doft thou with thy beft apparel on ?—
You, fir; what trade are you?

2. Cit. Truly, fir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would fay, a cobler.

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

2. Cit. A trade, fir, that, I hope, I may use with a fafe conscience; which is, indeed, fir, a mender of bad foals. Mar. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave,

what trade?

2. Cit. Nay, I beseech you, fir, be not out with me: yet, if you be out, fir, I can mend you.

Mar. What meaneft thou by that? Mend me, thou faucy fellow ? *

2. Cit. Why, fir," cobble you.

Flav. Thou art a cobler, art thou?

2. Cit. Truly, fir, all that I live by is, with the awl: I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, fir, a furgeon to old fhoes; 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.

B 2

Fluv.

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

2. Cit. Truly, fir, to wear out their fhoes, to get my felf into more work. But, indeed, fir, we make holiday, to fee Cæfar, and to rejoice in his triumph.

Mar. Wherefore rejoice? What conqueft brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome,

To

grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?
You blocks, you ftones, you worse than fenfeless 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 fat
The live-long day, with patient expectation,
To fee great Pompey pass the streets of Rome:
And when you faw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an univerfal fhout,
That Tyber trembled underneath her banks,
'To hear the replication of your sounds,
Made in her concave fhores ?

And do you now put on your beft attire?
And do you now cull out a holiday?
And do you now ftrew 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 muft light on this ingratitude.

Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault, Affemble all the poor men of your fort;

[Exeunt Citizens.

Draw them to Tyber banks, and weep your tears
Into the channel, till the lowest stream
Do kifs the most exalted shores of all.
See, whe'r their baseft metal be not mov'd;
They vanish tongue-ty'd in their guiltinefs.
Go you down that way towards the Capitol;
This way will I: Difrobe the images,
If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies"

■ With honorary ornaments; tokens of respect,

Mar.

Mar. May we do fo?

You know, it is the feaft of Lupercal.
Flav. It is no matter; let no images
Be hung with Cæfar's trophies. I'll about,
And drive away the vulgar from the streets:
So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
Thefe growing feathers pluck'd from Cæfar's wing,
Will make him fly an ordinary pitch;

Who elfe would foar above the view of men,
And keep us all in fervile fearfulness.

SCENE IT.

The fame. A publick Place.

[Exeunt.

Enter, in proceffion, with mufick, CESAR; ANTONY, for the course; CALPHURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and CASCA, a great crowd following; among them a Soothfayer.

Caf Calphurnia,

Cafea. Peace, ho! Cæfar fpeaks.

Caf. Calphurnia,

Cal. Here, my lord.

Caf. Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his courfe.-Antonius. Ant. Cæfar, my lord.

Caf. Forget not, in your fpeed, Antonius, To touch Calphurnia: for our elders say, The barren, touched in this holy chase, Shake off their fteril curfe.

Ant. I fhall remember:

When Cæfar fays, Do this, it is perform'd.
Caf. Set on; and leave no ceremony out,

Sooth. Cæfar.

Caf. Ha! Who calls?

[Mufick ceafes.

[Mufick

Cafca. Bid every noise be still :-Peace yet again.

[Mufick ceafes.

Caf. Who is it in the press, that calls on me?

B 3

I hear

2 Cæfar's trophies, are, the crowns which were placed on his ftatues. This perfon was not Decius, but Decimus Brutus.

I hear a tongue, fhriller than all the mufick,
Cry, Cæfar: Speak; Cæfar is turn'd to hear.
Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

Caf. What man is that?

Pru. A foothfayer, bids you beware the ides of March. Caf. Set him before me, let me fee his face.

Caf. Fellow, come from the throng: Look upon Cæfar. Cal. What fay'ft thou to me now? Speak once again. Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

Caf. He is a dreamer; let us leave him ;-pafs.

[Sennet. Exeunt all but Brutus and Caffius. Caf. Will you go fee the order of the course ? Bru. Not 1.

Caf. I pray you, do.

Bru. I am not gamefome; I do lack fome part Of that quick fpirit that is in Antony.

Let me not hinder, Caffius, your defires;

I'll leave you.

Caf. Brutus, I do obferve you now of late a
I have not from your eyes that gentleness,
And fhew of love, as I was wont to have:
You bear too ftubborn and too strange a hand
Over your friend that loves you.

Bru. Caffius,

Be not deceiv'd: If I have veil'd my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself. Vexed I am,

Of late, with paffions of fome difference",
Conceptions only proper to myself,

Which give fome foil, perhaps, to my behaviours:
-But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd;
(Among which number, Caffius, be you one ;)
Nor conftrue any further my neglect,

Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the fhews of love to other men.

Caf.

Sennet] I have been informed that fennet is derived from fennefte, an antiquated French tune formerly used in the army; but the Dictiona ries which I have confulted exhibit no such word.

Sennet may be a corruption from fonata, Ital. STEEVENS.

5 Strange, is alien, unfamiliar, fuch as might become a flranger, • With a fluctuation of difcordant opinions and defires,

Caf. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your paffion;
By means whereof, this breast of mine hath bury'd
Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
Tell me, good Brutus, can you fee your face?
Bru. No, Caffius: for the eye fees not itself,
But by reflection, by fome other things.
Caf. 'Tis juft:

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no fuch mirrors, as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,

That you might fee your fhadow. 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 with'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Caffius,
That you would have me seek into myself

For that which is not in me?

Caf. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to heart
And, fince you know
you cannot fee yourself
So well as by reflection, I, your glass,

Will modeftly discover to yourself

That of yourself which you yet know not of
And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus :
Were I a common laugher, or did use
To ftale with ordinary oaths my love 7
To every new protefter; if you know
That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
And after scandal them; or if you know
That I profess myself in banqueting

To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

[Flourish, and bout.

Bru. What means this fhouting? I do fear, the people

Choose Cæfar for their king.

Caf. Ay, do you fear it?

Then muft I think you would not have it fo.

Bru. I would not, Caffius; yet I love him well :

B

7 To invite every new protefior to my affection by the fale or allure

ment of cuftomary oaths.