2 Lord. His own impatience Auf. Assist. [Exeunt, bearing the body of CORIOLANUS. A dead march sounded. LUCILIUS, TITINIUS, MESSALA, young CATO, and VOLUMNIUS, Friends to Brutus and Cassius. VARRO, CLITUS, CLAUDIUS, STRATO, LUCIUS, DARDANIUS, Servants to Brutus. PINDARUS, Servant to Cassius. CALPHURNIA, Wife to Cæsar. PORTIA, Wife to Brutus. Senators, Citizens, Guards, Attendants, &c. SCENE, during a great part of the Play, at Rome; afterwards at Sardis, and near Philippi. (574) JULIUS CESAR. АСТ І. 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, Being mechanical, you ought not walk, Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou? 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? if 2 Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me; yet, you be out, sir, I can mend you. Mar. What mean'st thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow? 2 Cit. 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 recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neat's 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? 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? What tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels? And do you now put on your best attire? Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, [Exeunt Citizens. Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault, If you do find them decked with ceremonies. 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, |