JULIUS CÆSAR. .

A C T I.

'home;

SCENE, a Street in ROME.
Enter Flavius, (1) Marullus, and certain Commoners.

FL À VIUs.
#ENCE; home, you idle creatures, get you
H

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?
Car. Why, Sir, a carpenter.

Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rulė?.
What dost thou with thy best apparel on?
You, Sir,—What trade are you?

Cobe, Truly, Sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobler.

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

Cob. A trade, Sir, that, I hope, I may use with a fafe conscience, which is, indeed, Sir, a mender of bad foals.

(1) Murellus.] I have, upon the authority of Plutarcb, &c. given to this Tribune, his right name, Marullus,

Flar.

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can mend

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, Sír, I

you. (2) Flav. What mean’ft thou by that ? mend me, thous 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: 1: meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor woman's matters; but with-all, I am, indeed, Sir, a furgeon to old shoes; 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 shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

Cot. Truly, Sir, to wear out their shoes, to get my.. Telf into more work. But, indeed, Sir, we make holic day to fee Cæfar, and to rejoice in his triumph. Mar. Wherefore rejoice !-what conqueft brings .

he home? What tributaries follow him to Romeo Τα grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels ? You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless 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 see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome :
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal shout,
That Tyber trembled underneath his banks
to hear the replication of your sounds,
Made in his concave shores?
And do you now put on your best attire ?

(2) Mar. Wbat mean's tbou by tbat ?] As the Cobler, in the preceda ing speech, replies to Flavius, not to Marubius; 'ois plain, I think, this speech must be given to Flavirso

And

And do you now callout an holiday?
And do you now strew Aowers 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, 7 hat needs muft light on this ingratitude.

Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and for this fault Assemble all the poor men of your Sort ; : Draw them to Tyber bank, and weep your tears Into the channel, 'till the lowest stream Do kiss the most exalted shores of all..

(Exeunt Commoners. See, whe're their baseft mettle be not mov'd; 'I hey vanish tongue-ty'd in their guiltiness. Go

you down that way tow'rds the Capitol,
7 his way will l; difrobe the images,
If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.

Mar. May we do so!
You know, it is the feast of Lufercal.

Flav. It is no matter, let no images
Be hung with Cæsar's trophies ; I'll about,
And drive away the Vulgar from the streets :
So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
These growing feathers, pluckt from Cæsar's wing,
Will make him fly an ordinary pitch;
Who else would foar above the view of men,
And keep us all in servile fearfulness.

[Exeunt severally.
Enter Cæsar, Antony for the Cours , Calphurnia, Porcia,
Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Caffius, Casca, a Soothsayer.
Caf. Calphurnia,
Casc. Peace, ho! Cafar speaks.
Cás. Calphurnia,
Calp. Here, my lord.

Caf. Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his Course Antonius,

Ant. Caefar, my lord.

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

Tlag

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The Barren, touched in this holy Chase,
Shake off their fteril Curse.

Ant. I shall remember.
When Cæfar fays, do this ; it is perform'd.

Caf. Set on, and leave no Ceremony out.
Soorb. Cafar,
Cæf. Ha! who calls ?
Casc. Bid every noise be ftill; peace yet again.

Cæs. Who is it in the Press, that calls on me
I hear a tongue, shriller than all the musick,
Cry, Ca far. 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..
Casc. Fellow, come from the throng, look upon

Celar.
Cæf. 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 Cæsar and Traine.
Manent Brutus ant Caffius,
Caf. Will you go see the order of the Course ?
Bru. Not I.
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, Cafhus, your desires ;
l'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 stubborn and too strange a hand,

friend that loves you.
Bru. Casius,
Pe
not deceiv’d: if I have veild

my

look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Meerly upon my self. Vexed I am,
Of late, with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to my self;
Which give some loil, perhaps, to my behaviour :

.

Over your

But

That you

But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd,
Among which number, Caffius, be you one ;
Nor conftrue any farther my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the Thews of Love to other men.

Caf. Then, Brutus, I have much-mistook your passion;
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,

have no such mirrors, as will turn ·
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
That you might see your shadow. I have heard,,
Where many

of the best respect in Rome,
(Except immortal Cæfar) speaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoak,
Fave wish'd, that noble Brutus had his eyes.

Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Galius, That you

would have me feek into my self, For that which is not in me?

Cal. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear ;) And since you know, you cannot see your

self
Se well as by reflexion ; 1, your glass,
Will modestly discover to your

self
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 stale 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 self in banquetting
: To all the rout, then hold.me dangerous,

[Flourish and hout.
Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear, the People
Chuse Cæfar for their King.
Caf. Ay, do you fear it

Then

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