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'ft 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 tradefmen's matters, nor woman's matters; but with-all, I am, indeed, Sir, a furgeon to old fhoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neatsleather have gone upon my handy-work. Flav. But wherefore are not in thy shop to day? Why doft thou lead these men about the streets? Cob. Truly, Sir, to wear out their fhoes, to get "myself 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, To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels? And And do you now put on your best attire? Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and for that fault Do kifs the most exalted fhores of all. [Exeunt Commoners. If you do find them * deck'd with ceremonies. You know it is the feaft 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. Thefe growing feathers, pluckt from Cafar'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 feverally. * -deck'd with ceremonies.] Ceremonies, for religious ornaments. Thus afterwards he explains them by Cafar's trophies; i. e. fuch as he had dedicated to the Gods. -foar above the view of men,] Paterculus fays of this Cafar, animo fuper humanam & naturam & fidem evectus, which is finely expreffed, if we understand it to fignity that he afpired to a power that was contrary to the rights of nature, and to the duty and good faith he owed his country. VO L. VII. B 3 SCENE S CE NE II. Enter Cæfar, Antony, for the Courfe, Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Caffius, Cafca, a Soothsayer. Caf. Calphurnia, Cafc. Peace, ho! Cæfar fpeaks. Caf. Calphurnia, Calp. Here, my lord. Caf. Stand you directly in Antonius' way, Caf. Forget not in your speed, Antonius, Ant. I fhall remember. When Cæfar fays, do this; it is perform'd. Caf. Ha! who calls? Cafc. Bid every noise be ftill: peace yet again. Caf. Who is it in the Prefs, that calls on me?. I hear a tongue, fhriller than all the mufick, Cry, Cafar. Speak; Cafar is turn'd to hear. Sooth. Beware the Ides of March. Cef. What man is that? Bru. 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. 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 Cæfar and Train. SCENE Caf. Will you go fee the order of the Course? Caf. I pray you, do. Bru. I am not gamefom; 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 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. Bru. Caffius, Be not deceiv'd: if I have veil'd my look, Of late, with paffions of fome difference, Which give fome foil, perhaps, to my behaviour: Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war, Caf. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your paffion; By means whereof, this breaft of mine hath buried B 4 Caf Caf. 'Tis juft. And it is very much lamented, Brutus, That you might fee your fhadow. I have heard, Caf. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear; Will modeftly discover to yourself That of yourself, which yet you know not of. And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus: To all the rout, then hold me dangerous. [Flourish and fhout. Bru. What means this fhouting? I do fear, the 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; And |