JULIUS CÆSAR. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. 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, Of your profession?-Speak, what trade art thou? 1 Cit. 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 cobler. 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 Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you. Mar. What meanest thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow ? 2 Cit. Why, sir, cobble you. Flav. Thou art a cobler, 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 neats-leather, have gone upon my handywork. 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? 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 And do you now put on your best attire? Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and for this fault, Assemble all the poor men of your sort'; Draw them to Tyber banks, and weep your tears Into the channel, till the lowest stream Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. [Exeunt Citizens. See, whe'r 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, If you 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, Who else would soar above the view of men, [Exeunt. SCENE II. A Publick Place. 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. Cæs. Calphurnia, Casca. Peace, ho! Cæsar speaks, 1 Rank. Cæs. Calphurnia, Cal. Here, my lord. Cæs. Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his course.-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 steril curse. Ant. I shall remember: When Cæsar says, Do this, it is perform❜d. Sooth. Cæsar. Cæs. Ha! who calls? Casca. Bid every noise be still: again. [Musick. Peace yet [Musick ceases. Cas. Who is it in the press3, that calls on me? I hear a tongue, shriller than all the musick, Cry, Cæsar: Speak; Cæsar is turn'd to hear. Sooth. Beware the ides of March. Cæs. What man is that! Bru. A soothsayer, bids you beware the ides of Cæs. Set him before me, let me see his face. Cas. What says't thou to me now? Speak once again. Sooth. Beware the ides of March. Cæs. He is a dreamer; let us leave him;-pass. [Sennet. Exeunt all but BRU. and CAS. 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. 2 A ceremony observed at the feast of Lupercalia. 3 Crowd. 4 Flourish of instruments. Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires; Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late: Bru. Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviours: Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,' your And it is very much lamented, Brutus, That you might see your shadow. I have heard, • The nature of your feelings. |