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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.


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.”

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.




A SOOTHSAYER. OCTAVIUS CÆSAR, Triumvirs, CINNA, a Poet. - Another POET. MARCUS ANTONIUS, > after the death LUCILIUS, TITINIUS, MESSALA, M. ÆMIL. LEPIDUS, of Julius Cæsar. Young CATO, and VOLUMNIUS; CICERO, PUBLIUS, POPILIUS LENA; Friends to Brutus and Cassius. Senators.



to Brutus. CASCA,


PINDARUS, Servant to Cassius.

against Julius




SCENE, during a great part of the Play, at Rome; after

wards at Sardis; and near Philippi.



SCENE 1. — 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?

i 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 soles. 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?


2 Cit. Why, Sir, cobble

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 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;

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.


SCENE II. The same. A Public Place. 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. [Music ceases.
Cæs. Calphurnia, –

Cal. Here, my lord.
23. Cæs. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,

When he doth run his course. - Antonius.

Ant. Cæsar, my

lord. 25. 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 performed.

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 turned to hear. 32. Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

Cæs. What man is that? 34. Bru. 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 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.

[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.
44. Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late :

I have not from your eyes that gentleness
And shew 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,


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