meddle with no man's matters, nor woman's matters; but withall, I am indeed, Sir, 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 handywork.
Flav, Bat wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why doft thou lead these men about the streets?
2 Pleb. Truly, Sir, to wear out their shoes, to get my felf 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 worfe 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 ftreets of Rome :
And when faw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an univerfal fhout,
That Tyber trembled underneath his banks
To hear the replication of your founds,
Made in his concave fhores? And do you
Put on your beft attire? and do you now
Cull out an holiday? and do you now
Strew flowers in his way, that comes to Rome
In triumph over Pompey's blood? Be gone,
Run to your houfes, 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,
Draw them to Tyber's bank, and weep your tears
Into the channel, 'till the lowest ftream
Do kifs the moft exalted fhores of all.
See whe'r their bafeft mettle be not mov'd;
They vanifh'd 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 fo?
You know it is the feast of Lupercal.
Flav. It is no matter; let no images
Be hung with Cafar'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 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.
Enter Cæfar, Antony for the Courfe, Calphurnia, Portia, Decimus, Cicero, Brutus, Caffius, Cafca, and a Soothsayer. Caf. Calphurnia!
Calp. Peace, ho! Cæfar speaks.
Caf. Calpburnia!
Calp. Here, my Lord.
Caf. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,
When he doth run his courfe
Ant. Cæfar, my Lord.
Caf. Forget not in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calphurnia; for our elders fay, The barren touched in this holy chase, Shake off their fteril courfe.
Ant. I fhali remember.
When Cafar fays, Do this; it is perform'd.
Caf. Set on, and leave no ceremony out.
Sooth. Cafar!
Caf. Ha! who calls?
Cafe. Bid every noife be ftill; peace yet again.
Caf. Who is in the prefs that calls on me?
I hear a tongue fhriller than all the mufick,
Cry, Caefar! fpeak; Cæfar is turn'd to hear.
Sooth. Beware the Ides of March.
Caf. What man is that?
Bru. A footh-fayer 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. 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. Manent Brutus and Caffius. SCENE III.
Caf. Will you go see the order of the course?
Bru. Not I.
Bru. I am not gamefome; I do lack some part
Of that quick spirit that is in Antony:
Let me not hinder, Caffius, your defires;
I'll leave you.
Caf. Brutus, I do observe you now of late;
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.
Be not deceiv'd: if I have veil'd my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Meerly upon my self.
Of late, with paffions of fome difference,
Conceptions only proper to my felf,
Which give fome foil, perhaps, to my behaviour:
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. Then, Brutus, I have much miftook your paffion,
By means whereof, this breaft of mine hath buried
Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
Tell me, good Brutus, can you fee your face?
Bru. No, Caffius; for the eye fees not it self,
But by reflexion from fome other things.
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 refpect in Rome,
(Except immortal Cefar) fpeaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoak,
Have wifh'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Caffius,
That you would have me feek into my felf,
For that which is not in me?
Caf. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear
And fince you know you cannot fee your felf
So well as by reflexion; I, your glass,
Will modeftly discover to your self
That of your felf, which yet you 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 proteftor; if you know
That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
And after scandal them; or if you know
That I profess my felf in banqueting
To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.
Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear, the people
Chufe Cafar for their King.
Caf. Ay, do you fear it
Then must I think you would not have it fo.
Bru. I would not, Caffius; yet I love him well:
But wherefore do you hold me here so long?
What is it that you would impart to me?
If it be ought toward the general good,
Set honour in one eye, and death i'th' other,
And I will look on death indifferently:
For let the Gods fo fpeed me, as I love
The name of honour, more than I fear death.
Caf. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward favour.
Well, honour is the fubject of my story:
I cannot tell, what you and other men
Think of this life; but for my fingle self,
I had as lief not be, as live to be
In awe of fuch a thing as I my felf.
I was born free as Cæfar, fo were you;
We both have fed as well, and we can both
Endure the winter's cold, as well as he.
For once, upon a raw and gufty day,
The troubled Tyber chafing with his fhores,
Cæfar fays to me, Dar'ft thou, Caffius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,
And frim* to yonder point? upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,
And bad him follow; fo indeed he did.
The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lufty finews, throwing it afide,
And stemming it with hearts of controverfie.
But ere we could arrive the point propos'd,
Cæfar cry'd, Help me, Caffius, or I fink.
I, as Æneas, our great ancestor,
Did from the flames of Troy upon his fhoulder
The old Anchifes bear, fo, from the waves of Tyber
Did I the tired Cæfar and this man
Is now become a God, and Caffius is
A wretched creature, and must bend his body,
If Cæfar carelefly but nod on him.
He had a feaver when he was in Spain,
And when the fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake: 'tis true, this God did shake;
His coward lips did from their colour fly,
And that fame eye, whofe bend doth awe the world,
Did lofe its luftre; I did hear him groan:
Ay, and that tongue of his that bad the Romans
Mark him, and write his fpeeches in their books,
Alas it cry'd, Give me fome drink, Titinius
As a fick girl. Ye Gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of fuch a feeble temper fhould
So get the ftart of the majestick world,
And bear the palm alone.
Bru. Another general fhout!
*Swimming was one of the generous exercises practifed at Rome, and learnt by all the youth of the best birth and quality as a necefsary qualification towards good foldiership.
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