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SCENE, a Street in ROME.
Enter Flavius, (1) Marullus, and certain Commoners.
ENCE; 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 fign. Of your profeffion? Speak, what trade art thou? Car. Why, Sir, a carpenter.
Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy ruler What doft thou with thy beft apparel on ?
You, Sir,-What trade are you?
Cob., Truly, Sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, you would fay, a cobler.
Mar. But what trade art thou? answer me directly. Cob. A trade, Sir, that, I hope, I may ufe with a fafe confcience; which is, indeed, Sir, a mender of bad foals.
(1) Murellus.] I have, upon the authority of Plutarch, &c. given to this Tribune, his right name, Marullus.
Flav. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?
Cab. Nay, I beseech you, Sir, be not out with me : if you be out, Sir, I can mend you.
(2) 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 tradefman'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 neats-leather have gone upon my handy-work.
Flav. But wherefore art not in thy fhop to-day? Why doft thou lead these men about the ftreets?
Cob. Truly, Sir, to wear out their fhoes, to get my-Telf 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?
And do you now put on your best attire ?
(2) Mar. What mean'ft thou by that ?] As the Cobler, in the preced1ng fpeech, replies to Flavius, not to Marullus; 'tis plain, I think, this fpeech must be given to Flavius.
And do you now call out an holiday?
Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Flav Go, go, good countrymen, and for this fault Affemble all the poor men of your Sort ;
Draw them to Tyber bank, and weep your tears
[Exeunt Commoners. See, whe're their baseft mettle be not mov'd; 'I hey vanish tongue-ty'd in their guiltinefs. 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
Who else would foar above the view of men,
And keep us all in fervile fearfulness.
Enter Cæfar, Antony for the Courf, Calphurnia, Porcia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Caffius, Cafca, a Soothsayer. Caf. Calpburnia,
Cafe. Peace, ho! Cafar fpeaks.
Calp. Here, my lord.
Caf. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,
When he doth run his Courfe
Ant. Cefar, my lord.
Caf. Forget not in your fpeed, Antonius, To touch Calpburnia; for our Elders fay,
The Barren, touched in this holy Chafe,
Ant. I fhall remember.
When Cafar fays, do this; it is perform'd.
Caf. Ha! who calls?
Cafe. Bid every noise be ftill; peace yet again.
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..
Cafc. Fellow, come from the throng, look upon Calar 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; pafs.
[Exeurt Cæfar and Train,
Manent Brutus and Caffius.
Caf. Will you go fee the order of the Course?
Bru. Not I.
Caf. I pray you, do.
Bru. I am not gamefome; I do lack fome part Of that quick spirit that is in Antony:
Let me not hinder, Caffius, your desires ;
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;
Be not deceiv'd: if I have veil'd my look,
Which give fome foil, perhaps, to my behaviour:
But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Caf. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your paffion;
And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you might fee your shadow. I have heard,,
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Caffius,
Caf. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear;, And fince you know, you cannot fee felf So well as by reflexion; I, your glafs,
Will modeftly discover to your
That of your felf, which yet you know not of.
[Flourish and fhout. Bru. What means this fhouting? I do fear, the People
Chufe Cafar for their King.
Caf, Ay, do you fear it ?