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Mr. Clarke,
Mr. Wroughton.
Mr. Smith.
Mr. Bensley.
Mr. Hull.
Mr. Gardner,
Mr. Perry.
Mr. Holtom.
Mr. Davis.
Mr. Cushing
Mr. Bates.
Mr. Hamilton.
Mr, Quick.
Mr. Dunstall.
Mr. R. Smith,


Mrs. Hartley, Mrs, Vincent.


SCENE-For the three first Acts, at Rome ; after

wards at an Isle near Mutina, at Sardis, and Philippi.

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Enter Casca, D. Brutus, and certain Plebeians.

Mob, huzza.
Casca. Hence; home, you idle creatures, get you

Is this a holiday? what! know you not,
Being mechanical, you ought not walk
Upon a labouring day, without the sign

your profession i speak, what trade art thou?
i Pleb. Why, sir, a carpenter.

Casca. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on? You, sir, -What trade are you?

2 Pleb. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobler.

Casca. But what trade art thou? answer me, directly.

2 Pleb. A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, a mender of bad soles.

Casca. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?

2 Pleb. Nay, I beseech you, not out with me: yet if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

Casca. What mean'st thou by that? mend me, thou saucy fellow?

2 Pleb. Why, sir, cobble you.
Casca. Thou art a cooler, art thou?

2 Pleb. Truly, sir, all that I live by is the awl: I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor woman's matters; but withal 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.

Casca. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets ?

2 Pleb. 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. Casca. Wherefore rejoice?

Therefore rejoice! — what conquests

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, Have you climb'd


to walls and battlements,
To tow'rs 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,

not made an universal shout,
That Tiber trembled underneath his banks,
To hear the replication of your sounds,
Made in his concave shore ?
And do you now put on your best attire,

And do you now cull out an holiday?
And do you now strew flowers in his

That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood ?
Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the gods to intermit the plague,
That needs must light on this ingratitude.
Dec. B. Go, go, good countrymen.

[Exeunt Plebeians. Go you

down that way, towards the capitol, This way will I; disrobe the images, If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies. 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.

[Exeunt severally. Enter CÆSAR, Antony for the Course, CALPHUR

NIA, Decius Brutus, Cassius, Casca, a SoorkSAYER, TREBONIUS, &c. Cues. Calphurnia ----Casca. Peace, ho! Cæsar speaks. Cæs. Calphurnia--Calp. Here, my lord. Caz. 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 sterile curse.

Ant. 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.

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.
Cæs. What man is that?
Bru. A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of

Cæs. Set him before me, let me see his face.
Cos. Fellow, come from the throng, look upon

Cæsar. Cæs. What say'st thou to me, now ? speak once

again. Sooth. Beware the ides of March. Cæs. He is a dreamer, let us leave him; pass.

[Exeunt Cxsar and Train.
Cos. Will you go see the order of the course?
Bru. Not I.
Cos. 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,

Cos. Brutus, I do observe you now of late;
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.

Bru. Cassius,
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 gives some foil, perhaps, to my

But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd,
Among which number, Cassius, be you one;
Nor construe any farther my neglect,

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