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SCENE 1.-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?

i Cir. 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 Cir. Nay, I beseech you, sir, bė not out with me: yet if you be out, sir, I can mend you. Mar. What meanest thou by that? Mend me,


fellow? 2 Cir. 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 re-cover 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 ?

* MARULLUS, - ) A correction first made by Theobald, the old text having throughout, Murellus.

b - directly.] Explicitly, without ambiguity.

< What trade, thou knave? &c.] In the old copies this speech is erroneously assigned to Flavius.

d I mindle with no tradesman's matters, &c.] Farmer conjoctured that the true reading is, “I meddle with no trade, man's matters,” &c.; ard, substituting trades for trade, ve incline to his opinion.

Wherefore rejoice? &c.)." This was in the beginning of R. C. 44 (4 v. C. 709), when Cæsar, having returned from Spain in the preceding October, after defeating tin sons of Pompey at the Battle of Munda (fought 17 March, B. c. 45), bad been appointed Core'l for the next ten years, and Dictator for life. The festival of the Lupercalia, it whira he was offered and declined the crown, was celebrated 13th February, 1. C. 14

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What tributaries follow him to Rome,

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 sat
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 Tiber trembled underneath her banks,
To hear the replication of your sounds,
Made in her concave shores?
And do you now put on your best attire ?
And do you now cull out a holiday?
And do you now strew 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 must light on this ingratitude.

FLAV. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault,
Assemble all the poor men of your sort ;
Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears
Into the channel, till the lowest stream
Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.-

Exeunt Citizens
See, whêr their basest metal be not mov'd;
They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness.
Go you down that way towards the Capitol;
This way will I: disrobe the images,

do find them deck'd with ceremonies.
MAR. May we do so?
You know it is the feast of Lupercal.

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 pluck'd from Cæsar's wing
Will make him fly an ordinary pitch;
Who else would soar above the view of men,
And keep us all in servile fearfulness.


and he was assassinated 16th March following, being then in his fifty-sixth year."CRAIK's English of Shakespeare, p. 71.

with ceremonies.] See note (), p. 515. Vol. II.

SCENE II.The same. A public Place. Enter, in procession, with music, CÆSAR; ANTONY, for the course;


Casca, a great crowd following; among them a Soothsayer.
CÆS. Calphurnia -

Peace, ho! Cæsar speaks. [Music ceases. CÆs.

CAL. Here, my lord.
CÆs. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,
When he doth run his course. (1)-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 sterile curse.

I shall remember:
When Cæsar says, Do this, it is perform’d.
CÆS. Set on; and leave no ceremony out.

SOOTH. Cæsar!
CÆs. Ha! Who calls ?
CASCA. Bid every noise be still :-peace yet again!(Music ceases.

CÆS. Who is it in the press that calls on me?
I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,
Cry, Cæsar. Speak; Cæsar is turn’d to hear.

Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

What man is that?
BRU. A soothsayer, bids you beware the ides of March.
CÆs. Set him before me; let me see his face.
Cas. Fellow, come from the throng: look upon Cæsar,
CÆs. What say'st thou to me now? speak once again.
Sooth. Beware the Ides b of March.
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 I.
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:

• Bid every noise be still :-peace yet again !) If this did not origically form a continuation of Cæsar's previous speech, the regulation we presume to have been :

“ Casca. Bid every noise be still :- peace yet!

Who is it," &c.
o The Ides of March.] The Ides (Idus) fell on the 15th of March, May, July, and
October, and on the 13th of the remaining months.

I have not from your eyes that gentleness
And show of love as I was wont to have:
You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand
Over your friend that loves you.

Be not deceiv'd: if I have veil'd my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself. 'Vexed I am,
Of late, with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself,
Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviours;
But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd,
(Among which number, Cassius, be you one)
Nor construe any further my neglect,
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
Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?

Bru. No, Cassius: for the eye sees not itself,
But by reflection by some other things.

CAS. 'T is just :
And it is very much lamented, Brutus,

you 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,
Sxcept immortal Cæsar) speaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
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 prepard 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 on me, gentle Brutus:
Were I a common laugher, or did use
To stale with ordinary oaths my love
To every new protester; if you know

• Merely–) Purely, solely, entirely: But by reflection by some other things.] Here, not improbably, the poet wrote,–

“- of some other things," or,

from some other things," the second " by” in the old text being an accidental repetition of the compositor.

Were I a common laugher,-) Rowe's correction; the old copy having“Laughter" As Mr. Craik remarks, neither word seems to be quite satisfactory.

That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
And after scandal them ; or if you know
That I profess myself in banqueting
To all the rout, then hold me dangerous. [Flourish and shoui.

BRU. What means this shouting? I do fear the people
Choose Cæsar for their king.

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.-
But wherefore do you hold me here so long?
What is it that you would impart to me?
If it be aught toward the general good,
Set honour in one eye, and death i' the other,
And I will look on both indifferently :
For, let the gods so speed me as I love
The name of honour more than I fear death.

Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward favour.
Well, honour is the subject of my story-
I cannot tell what you and other men
Think of this life; but, for my single self,
I had as lief not be as live to be
In awe of such a thing as I myself.
I was born free as Cæsar ; so were you:
We both have fed as well; and we can both
Endure the winter's cold as well as he;
For once, upon a raw and gusty day,
The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,
Cæsar said to me, Dar'st thou, Cassius, now,
Leap in with me into this angry flood,
And swim to yonder point?—Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,
And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did.
The torrent roar'd; and we did buffet it
With lusty sinews; throwing it aside
And stemming it with hearts of controversy :
But ere we could arrive the point propos’d,
Cæsar cried, Help me, Cassius, or I sink.
I, as Æneas, our great ancestor,
Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber
Did I the tired Cæsar: and this man
Is now become a god; and Cassius is
A wretched creature, and must bend his body
If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him.
He had a fever when he was in Spain,
And, when the fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake: 't is true, this god did shake:
His coward lips did from their colour fly;
And that same eye whose bend doth awe tne world
Did lose his lustre: I did hear him groan:

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