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Finally, it may be noticed that it was really this Decimus Brutus who had been the special friend and favorite of Cæsar, not Marcus Junius Brutus the conspirator, as represented in the Play. In his misconception upon this point our English dramatist has been followed by Voltaire in his tragedy of La Mort de César, which is written avowedly in imitation of the Julius Cæsar of Shakespeare.

NOTE.

At the end of the Prolegomena, in Craik's third edition, is the following note:

"I have not thought it necessary, in the present revision, to make the numerous typographical rectifications which would have been required in the margin of every page, and also in many of the references, to remove the traces of an unimportant error of one in the numbering of the speeches from 249, which ought to be 248, onwards to the end of the play."

66

In this American edition I determined to make these numerous typographical rectifications," and did not happen to notice, until the book was almost ready to go to press, that Craik's error was not where he supposed it to be (from 249 onwards), but merely in numbering 246 and 247, which he makes, as I have done, 245 and 246.

It is rather provoking to find that I have thus been at considerable trouble to correct (more Hibernico) the imaginary error, while I have retained the real one; but it cannot now be helped, and luckily both errors are "unimportant.” I shall be pardoned, of course, for not distrusting the author's statement in regard to his own mistakes. W. J. R.

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

I.

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,

Being mechanical, you ought not walk,
Upon a labouring 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. 6. 2 Cit. A trade, Sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, Sir, a mender of bad søles. 7. Mar. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?

8.

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

9. Mar. What mean'st thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow?

12.

2 Cit. Why, Sir, cobble you.

Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

2 Cit. Truly, Sir, all that 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.

15. 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
climbed up to walls and battlements,
To towers 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,
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.

16. 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. [Exeunt CITIZENS. 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. 17. Mar. May we do so?

You know it is the feast of Lupercal. 18. 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.

- The same. A Public Place.

SCENE II.

[Exeunt.

Enter, in Procession with Music, 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.

Cæs. Calphurnia,

Cal. Here, my lord.

[Music ceases.

23. Cæs. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,

When he doth run his course.

- Antonius.

[ACT I.

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. 6. 2 Cit. A trade, Sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, Sir, a mender of bad soles. 7. Mar. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave,

8.

what trade?

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

9. Mar. What mean'st thou by that? Mend me, thou

12.

saucy fellow?

2 Cit. Why, Sir, cobble you.

Flav. 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 matI am, indeed, Sir, a surgeon to old ters, but with awl. 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.

15. 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 thin
O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,

Knew you not Pompey? Many

Have you climbed up to wall
To towers and windows, yer
Your infants in your arms.
The live-long day, with pa
To see great Pompey pas
And, when you saw his
Have you not made an
That Tiber trembled u
To hear the replicatio
Made in her concave

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