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SCENE, during a great part of the play, at Rome; afterwards at Sardis, and near Philippi.

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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 laboring-day without the sign

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 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 Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me; yet if 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.

Fiav. 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 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? 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 elimbed 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 a 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?
Begone!

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.
See whe'r their basest metal be not moved:
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 decked 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 plucked 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.

SCENE II. The Same. A Public Place.

[Exeunt CITIZENS.

[Exeunt.

Enter in procession, with music, CÆSAR, ANTONY, for the course; CALPHURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and ČASCA; a great crowd following,

among them a SOOTHSAYER.

Cæs. Calphurnia!

Casca. Peace, ho! Cæsar speaks.

Cæs. Calphurnia!

[Music ceases.

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Casca. Bid every noise be still. Peace yet again.
Cas. Who is it in the press that calls on me?

I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,

Cry "Cæsar!" Speak: Cæsar is turned to hear.
Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

Cæs. What man is that?

Bru. A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.
Cæs. Set him before me: let me see his face.

Speak once again.

Cas. Fellow, come from the throng: look upon Cæsar.
Caes. What say'st thou to me now?
Sooth. Beware the ides of March.
Cæs. He is a dreamer: let us leave him. Pass.

[Music.

[Music ceases.

[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:
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 deceived: if I have veiled 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 behaviors;
But let not therefore my good friends be grieved,
(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. 'Tis 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 wished that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers would lead
you me, Cassius,
That you would have me seek into myself
For that which is not in me?

Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear;
And, since you know you can not 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 of 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

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 honor 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 honor more than I fear death.
Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward favor.
Well, Honor is the subject of my story.
I can not 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,

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And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did.
The torrent roared; 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 proposed,
Cæsar cried, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink!"

I, as Eneas, 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: 'tis true, this god did shake;
His coward lips did from their color fly;

And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world,
Did lose his luster. I did hear him groan;
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans
Mark him, and write his speeches in their books,
Alas! it cried, "Give me some drink, Titinius,"
As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of such a feeble temper should

So get the start of the majestic world,
And bear the palm alone!

Bru. Another general shout!

I do believe that these applauses are

For some new honors that are heaped on Cæsar.

Cas. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world

Like a Colossus; and we petty men

Walk under his huge legs, and peep about

To find ourselves dishonorable graves.

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Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with them,

Brutus and Cæsar: what should be in that Cæsar?

Why should that name be sounded more than yours?
Write them together, yours is as fair a name;

Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;

Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cæsar.

[Shout.

Now, in the names of all the gods at once,

Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed,

That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed!

Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!
When went there by an age, since the great flood,

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