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Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and a rabble of Citizens.
Flav. LTENCE; 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 dost thou with thy best apparel on?
You, fir; what trade are you?
2. Cit. 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.
2. Cit. A trade, fir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe 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, sir, be not out with me: yet, if you be out, fir, I can mend you.
Mar. What meanest thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy 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 surgeon 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.
Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why do thou lead these men about the streets ?
2. Cit. Truly, fir, to wear out their fhoes, to get myself 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 stones, you worse than senseless things!
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 see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome:
faw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal fhout,
That Tyber trembled underneath her banks,
'To hear the replication of your sounds,
Made in her concave shores?
And do you now put on your best attire ?
And do you now cull out a holiday ?
And do you now ftrew flowers in his way,
That comes in triomph 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,
Assemble all the poor men of your sort ;
Draw them to Tyber banks, and weep your tears
Into the channel, till the lowest stream
Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. [Exeunt Citizens.
See, whe'r their baseft metal be not mov’d;
They vanish tongue-ty'd in their guiltiness.
Go you down that way towards the Capitol ;
This way will I : Difrobe the images,
If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies'
Mar. • With honorary ornaments; tokens of respect,
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 pluck'd 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.
The fame. A publick Place.. Enter, in proceffion, with musick, CÆSAR; ANTONY, for
the course; CALPHURNIA, PORTIA, Decius, CiceRO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and EASCA, a great crowd following ; among them a Soothsayer. Cæj. Calphurnia, Casca. Peace, ho! Cæsar speaks. [Mufick ceases. Ces: Calphurnia, Cal. Here, my lord, Cæfa Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his course. Antonius.
Ant. Cæsar, my lord.
Cæf. Forget not, in your speed, Antonius,
To touch Calphurnia : for our elders say,
The barren, touched in this holy chase,
Shake off their fteril curse.
Ant. I shall remember:
When Cæsar fays, Do this, it is perform’d.
Cæf, Set on; and.leave no ceremony out. [Mufick
Cæf. Ha! Who calls ?
Casca. Bid every noise be still :-Peace yet again. -
[Mufick ceases. Cas, Who is it in the press, that calls on me
2 Cæsar's tropbies, are, the crowns which were placed on his tatues. * This person was not Desius, but Decimuș Brutus.
I hear a tongue, sriller than all the musick, ,
Cry, Cæsar: Speak; Cæsar is turnưd to hear.
Sooth. Beware the ides of March.
Caf. What man is that?
Pru. A foothsayer, bids you beware the ides of March.
Cæf. Set him before me, let me see his face.
Caf. Fellow, come from the throng: Look upon Cæsar.
Cál. 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. 4 Exeunt all but Brutus and Caflius.
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 fpirit that is in Antony.
Let me not hinder, Caflius, your desires ;
I'll leave you.
Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late a
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 hands,
Over your friend that loves you.
Be not deceiv'd: If I have veil'd my look,
I turn the trouble of
Merely upon myself. Vexed I am,
Of late, with paffions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself,
Which çive some foil, perhaps, to my behaviours:
But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd;
(Among which number, Caflius, be you one ;)
Ncr construe any further my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Fargets the fhews of love to other men.
Cal. 4 Sennet] I have been informed that sennet is derived from senneste, an antiquated French tune formerly used in the army; but the Dictiona. ries which I have consulted exhibit no such word.
Sennet may be a corruption from fonata, Ital. STEEVENS.
5 Strange, is alien, unfamiliar, such as might become a stranger,
6 With a fluctuation of discordant opinions and desires,
Caf. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion; By means whereof, this breast of mine hath bury'd Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations. Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?
Bru. No, Cassius: for the eye fees not itself;
But by reflection, by some other things.
Caf. 'Tis juft:
And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no such mirrors, as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
That you might see your shadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome,
(Except immortal Cæsar,) 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, Caffias,
That you would have me feek into myself
For that which is not in me!
Caf. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to heart
And, since you know you cannot see 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?
To every new protester; if you
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 shout. Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear, the people Choose Cæsar for their king.
Caf. Ay, do you fear it ?
Then must I think you would not have it fo.
Rru, I would not, Cassius ; yet I love him well :-
But 9 To invite every se
pròteftor to my affection by the Bale or allure. meat of cuftomary oaths.