Breaking his oath and refolution like
A twift of rotten filk, never admitting
Counsel o'th' war; but at his nurse's tears
He whin'd and roar'd away your victory,
That pages blufh'd at him, and men of heart
Look'd wondring each at other.

Cor. Hear'ft thou, Mars ?

Auf Name not the God, thou boy of tears.
Cor. Ha!

Auf. No more.

Cor. Measureless liar, thou haft made my heart Too great for what contains it. Boy? O flave! Pardon me, Lords, 'tis the first time I ever

Was forc'd to fcold. Your judgments, my grave Lords,
Muft give this cur the lie; and his own notion,
Who wears my ftripes impreft upon him, that
Muft bear my beating to his grave, hall join
To thruft the lie unto him.

1 Lord. Peace both, and hear me speak.

Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volfcians, men and lads,
Stain all your edges in me. Boy? falle hound!
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
That like an eagle in a dove-coat, I
Flutter'd your Volfcians in Corioli.

Alone I did it. Boy?

Auf. Why, noble Lords,

Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your fhame, by this unholy braggart, 'Fore your own eyes and ears?

All Con. Let him die for't.

All Cit. Tear him to pieces, do it presently.

1 Cit. He kill'd my fon.

2 Cit. My daughter.
3 Cit. Kill'd my coufin.

4 Cit. He kill'd my father.

2 Lord. Peace-
-no outrage-

peace

The man is noble, and his fame folds in

This orb o'th' earth; his laft offences to us
Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius,
And trouble not the peace.

VOL. VII.

Р

Cor.

Cor. O that I had him,

With fix Aufidius's, or more; his tribe;
To ufe my lawful fword-
Auf. Infolent villain!

All Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.

[The Confpirators all draw, and kill Martius, who falls, and Aufidius ftands on him.

Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold.

Auf. My noble Lords, hear me fpeak. 1 Lord. O, Tullus

2 Lord. Thou haft done a deed, whereat Valour will weep.

3 Lord. Tread not upon him-mafters all, be quiet, Put up your fwords.

Auf. My Lords, when I fhall fhew (as in this rage
Provok'd by him, I cannot) the great danger
Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice
That he is thus cut off. Please it your Honours
To call me to your Senate, I'll deliver
My felf your loyal fervant, or endure
Your heavieft cenfure.

I Lord. Bear from hence his body,

And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded
As the most noble coarse, that ever herald
Did follow to his urn.

2 Lord. His own impatience

Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame :
Let's make the beft of it.

Auf. My rage is gone,

And I am ftruck with forrow: take him up :
Help three o'th' chiefeft foldiers; I'll be one.
Beat thou the drum that it speak mournfully:
Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he
Hath widowed and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail the injury;

Yet he fhall have a noble memory.

[Exeunt, bearing the body of Martius. A dead marcă founded,

JULIUS

CÆSAR.

P 2

MARULLUS, Tribunes, and Enemies to Cæfar.

MESSALA,

TITINIUS, Friends to Brutus and Caffius.

ARTEMIDORUS, A Sophift of Cnidos.
A "Soothsayer.
Young CATO.

CINNA, the Poet.

LUCILIUS,

LUCIUS,

PINDARUS, Servant to Caffius.

CALPHURNIA, Wife to Cæfar.
PORTIA, Wife to Brutus.

Plebeians, Guards and Attendants. SCENE for the three first Acts in Rome, for the begin ning of the fourth at an Ijland near Bononia, for the remainder of the fourth near Sardis, for the fifth in the Fields of Philippi.

JU.

JULIUS CÆSAR.

Flav,

ACT I. SCENE I.
A Street in Rome,

Enter Flavius, Marullus, and certain Plebeians.
ENCE; home, you idle creatures, get you
home;

H

Is this a holiday? what, know you not,

Being mechanical, you ought not walk

Upon a labouring day, without the fign

Of your profeffion? fpeak, what trade art thou?
Pleb. Why, Sir, a carpenter.

Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule?
What doft thou with thy best apparel on?

You, Sir, what trade are you?

2 Pleb. Truly, Sir, in refpect of a fine workman I am but as you would fay, a cobler.

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

2 Pleb. A trade, Sir, that I hope I may use with a fafe confcience, which is indeed, Sir, a mender of bad foals. Flaw. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?

2 Pleb. Nay, I befeech 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 Lawcy fellow?

2 Pleb. Why, Sir, cobble you.

Flav. Thou art a cobler, art thou?

2 Pleb. Truly, Sir, all that I live by, is the awl: I

P 3

meddle