JULIUS CESAR.

A CT I.

SCENE, a Street in ROME.

Enter Flavius, (1) Marullus, and certain Commoners.

H

FLAVIUS.

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 rule? 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, as you would fay, a cobler.

Mar. But what trade art thou? anfwer me directly. Cob. A trade, Sir, that, I hope, I may use 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.

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Flav.

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.

(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: [: 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 streets?

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,

To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels?
You blocks, you stones, you worse 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 fate.
The live-long day with patient expectation,
To fee great Pompey pass the ftreets of Rome :
And when you 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 now put on your best attire ?

(2) Mar. What mean'ft thou by that ?] As the Cobler, in the preced-1ng fpeech, replies to Flavius, not to Marulus; 'tis plain, I think, this fpeech must be given to Flavins.

And

And do you now call out an holiday?
And do you now ftrew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Be gone-

Run to your houses, 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 Sort; Draw them to Tyber bank, and weep your tears Into the channel, 'till the lowest stream Do kifs the most exalted fhores of all..

[Exeunt Cammoners. See, whe're their baseft mettle be not mov'd; 'They 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 feaft of Lupercal.

Flav. It is no matter, let no images
Be hung with Cefar'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 Cæfar'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.

Enter Cæfar, Antony for the Courf, Calphurnia, Porcia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Caffius, Cafca, a Soothsayer.

Caf. Calphurnia,

Cafe. Peace, ho! Cafar fpeaks.

Caf. Calpurnia,

Calp. Here, my lord.

Caf. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,

When he doth run his Course

Ant. Cafar, my lord.

- Antonius,

Caf. Forget not in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calpburnia; for our Elders fay,

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The

Shake off their steril Curse.
Ant. I shall remember.

When Cafar says, do this; it is perform'd.
Caf. Set on, and leave no Ceremony out.
Sooth. Cafar,

Caf. Ha! who calls ?

Cafe. 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 musick,
Cry, Cafar. Speak; 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 see his face..

Cafc. Fellow, come from the throng, look upon Cafar. Caf. What say'st thou to me now? speak once again. Sooth. Beware the Ides of March.

Caf. He is a dreamer, let us leave him; pass.

[Exeurt Cæfar and Train..

Manent Brutus and Caffius.

Caf. Will you go see the order of the Course ?
Bru. Not 1.

Caf. 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, 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 shew 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,

I turn the trouble of my countenance
Meerly upon my self. Vexed I am,
Of late, with passions of fome difference,
Conceptions only proper to my self;

Which give some foil, perhaps, to my behaviour:

But

Sarck

alar gain.

raine

Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your paffion;
By means whereof, this breast 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 sees not it felf,

But by reflexion from some other things..
Cas. 'Tis just.

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no such mirrors, as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
That you might fee your shadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome,
(Except immortal Cafar) speaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoak,
Have wish'd, that noble Brutus had his eyes.

Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Gaffius,
That you would have me feek into my felf,
For that which is not in me?

Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear;
And fince you know, you cannot see your felf
So well as by reflexion; I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to your felf
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 protestor; 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 banquetting

: To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

[Flourish and shout.

Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear, the People

Chuse Cafar for their King.
Caf. Ay, do you fear it?

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Then