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ACT I. 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,
Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule?
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 soals.
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 re-cover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neats-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
What tributaries follow him to Rome,
You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,
Have you not made an universal shout,
And do you now put on your best attire?
Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Assemble all the poor men of your sort;
[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,
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
And drive away the vulgar from the streets:
Who else would soar above the view of
THE SAME. A PUBLIC 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.
Peace, ho! Cæsar speaks.
[Musick ceases. 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.
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 musick, Cry, Cæsar: Speak; Cæsar is turn'd to hear. Sooth. Beware the ides of March.
What man is that? Bru. A soothsayer, bids you beware the ides of March.
Cas. Set him before me, let me see his face.
Cas. 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.
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;
Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late:
Over your friend that loves you.
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? Bru. Not I.