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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 ?
1 Cır. 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. Flav. 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.

· The modern editors give this speech to Marullus; and they propose other changes in the allotment of the speeches to the tribunes. They assume that only one should take the lead; whereas it is clear that the dialogue is more natural, certainly more dramatic, according to the original arrangement, where Flavius and Marullus alternately rate the people, like two smiths smiting on the same anvil.

Mar. What meanest thou by that? Mend me,


fellow? 2 Cır. Why, sir, cobble you. Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thou ? 2 Cir. Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl: I meddle with no trades

man's matters, nor women's matters, but with alla. 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 handiwork. Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day?

Why dost thou lead these men about the streets ? 2 Cır. 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,
Το grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels ?
You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things !
0, 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 livelong 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.

[Eteunt 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 ; · With all. The original has withal. The modern editors write with awl, offering an equivoque to the eye which is somewhat too palpable.

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.


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Enter, in procession, with music, CÆSAR; ANTONY, for the course; CALPHURNIA,

PORTIA, Decius, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and Casca, a great crowd follow

ing; among them a Soothsayer.
Cæs. Calphurnia -
Peace, ho! Cæsar speaks.

[Music ceases. Cæs.

Calphurnia Cal. Here, my

Cæs. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,

When he doth run his course.-Antonius,-
Ant. Cæsar, my lord.
CES. 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.

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

[Music. 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?
Beu. 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

Cæs. What sayst 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 BRUTUS and Cassius.
Cas. Will you go see the order of the course 3 ?
BRU. Not I.
Cas. I pray you, do.
Bro. 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 :

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,
That 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,
(Except 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 prepar'd 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


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 shout. Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear the people

Choose Cæsar for their king. CAS.

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 roard; and we did buffet it · On me. So the original. We do not change this idiomatic language of Shakspere's time into the of me of the modern.

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