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SCENE, during a great part of the play, at Rome; afterwards at Sardis; and near Philippi.
SCENE I-Rome. A Street.
Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and a Rabble of CITIZENS.
Flav. Hence; home, you idle creatures, get you home; Is this a holiday? What! know you not,
Being mechanical, you ought not walk,
Upon a labouring day, without the sign
Of your profession ?-Speak, what trade art thou? 1 Cit. Why, Sir, a carpenter.
Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on ?
You, Sir; what trade are you?
2 Cit. Truly, Sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.
Mar. But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.
2 Cit. A trade, Sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, Sir, a mender of bad soles.
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, Sir, I can mend you.
Mar. What meanest thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow ?
2 Cit. Why, Sir, cobble you.
Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thou?
2 Cit. Truly, Sir, 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, Sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neat's leather, have gone upon my handiwork.
Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day?
Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?
2 Cit. Truly, Sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, Sir, we make holiday to see Cæsar, and to rejoice in his triumph.
Mar. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest 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!
And do you now put on your best attire?
Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault,
You know, it is the feast of Lupercal.
Be hung with Cæsar's trophies. I'll about,
And drive away the vulgar from the streets:
Who else would soar above the view of men,
SCENE II.-The same. A Public Place.
Enter, in Procession with Music, CESAR; ANTONY, for the course; CALPHURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and CASCA, a great crowd following, among them a SOOTHSAYER.
Casca. Peace, ho!. Cæsar speaks.
Cal. Here, my lord.
Cæs. Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his course.*-Antonius. Ant. Cæsar, my lord.
Cæs. Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calphurnia: for our elders say, The barren, touched in this holy chase, Shake off their steril curse.
Ant. I shall remember:
When Cæsar says, Do this, it is perform'd.
Cæs. Ha! who calls?
Casca. Bid every noise be still :-Peace yet again.
Cas. Who is it in the press,† that calls on me?
I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,
Cas. What man is that!
Bru. A soothsayer, bids you beware the ides of March.
Cas. Fellow, come from the throng: Look upon Cæsar.
Cæs. He is a dreamer: let us leave him ;-pass.
[Sennet. Exeunt all but BRUTUS and CASSIUS. Cas. Will you go see the order of the course? Bru. Not İ.
Cas. I pray you do.
Bru. I am not gamesome: I do lack some part
Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.
Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires;
I'll leave you.
Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late:
*A ceremony observed at the feast of Lupercalia.
I have not from your eyes that gentleness,
Be not deceived: if I have veil'd my look,
Of late, with passions of some difference,
Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviours:
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the shows of love to other men.
Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion,†
By means whereof, this breast of mine hath buried
Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?
And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you might see your shadow. I have heard,
Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, That you would have me seek into myself
For that which is not in me?
Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear:
And, since you know you cannot see yourself
So well as by reflection, I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to yourself
That of yourself which you yet know not of.
And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus:
That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
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.
Cas. Ay, do you fear it?
Then must I think you would not have it so.
Bru. I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well :
Make stale, cheap.