JULIUS CESAR. ACT I. SCENE I.-ROME. A Street. Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and a Rabble of CITIZENS. Flavius. Hence; home, you idle creatures, get you home; Is this a holiday? What! know you not, Of your profession?-Speak, what trade art thou? Marullus. Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on?You, sir; what trade are you? 2 Citizen. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler. Marullus. But what trade art thou? Answer me directly. 2 Citizen. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles. Marullus. What trade, thou knave; thou naughty knave, what trade? 2 Citizen. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you. Marullus. What meanest thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow! 2 Citizen. Why, sir, cobble you. Flavius. Thou art a cobbler, art thou? 2 Citizen. Truly, sir, all that I live by is, with the awl: I meddle with no tradesman'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 handy-work. Flavius. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets? 2 Citizen. 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. Marullus. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels? up 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, Flavius. Go, go, good countrymen, and for this fault, Assemble all the poor men of your sort;1 1 Rank. Draw them to Tyber banks, and weep your tears [Exeunt CITIZENS. See, whe'r their basest metal be not mov'd; If you do find thein deck'd with ceremonies. Marullus. May we do so? You know, it is the feast of Lupercal. Flavius. It is no matter; let no images Who else would soar above the view of men, SCENE II-A publick Place. [Exeunt. Enter, in Procession, with Musick, CÆSAR; ANTONY, for the Course; CALPHURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and CASCA; a great Crowd following, among them a SOOTHSAYER. Cesar. Calphurnia,— Casca. Peace, ho! Cæsar speaks, Cæsar. [Musick ceases. Calphurnia, Calphurnia. Here, my lord. Cæsar. Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his course.2-Antonius. Antony. Cæsar, my lord. Cæsar. Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calphurnia: for our elders say, 1 A ceremony observed at the feast of Lupercalia, Antony. I shall remember: When Cæsar says, Do this, it is perform❜d. Cæsar. Set on; and leave no ceremony out. [Musick. Soothsayer. Cæsar. Cæsar. Ha! who calls? Casca. Bid every noise be still:-Peace yet again. [Musick ceases. Cæsar. Who is it in the press,3 that calls on me? I hear a tongue, shriller than all the musick, Cry, Cæsar: Speak; Cæsar is turn'd to hear. Soothsayer. Beware the ides of March. Cæsar. What man is that? Brutus. A soothsayer, bids you beware the ides of March. Cæsar. Set him before me, let me see his face. Cassius. Fellow, come from the throng: Look upon Cæsar. Cæsar. What say'st thou to me now? Speak once again. Soothsayer. Beware the ides of March. 4 Cæsar. He is a dreamer; let us leave him ;-pass. Cassius. I pray you do. Brutus. 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. Cassius. Brutus, I do observe you now of late: Brutus. Cassius, Be not deceiv'd: if I have veil'd my look, 3.Crowd. 4 Flourish of instruments. Of late, with passions of some difference, Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviours: Thart that poor Brutus, with himself at war, Cassius. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion,5 By means whereof, this breast of mine hath buried And it is very much lamented, Brutus, That you might see your shadow. I have heard, Brutus. Into what dangers would you lead me,Cassius, That you would have me seek into myself For that which is not in me? Cassius. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd 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: 5 The nature of your feelings. 6 Make common. |