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102. He was quick mettled when he went to school.

But this, although given in the Regulated Text of the Plays, is not noticed either in the Notes and Emendations or in the List.

109. These are their seasons,-they are natural.


187. And after seem to chide 'em. This shall mark.
202. Enjoy the heavy honey-dew of slumber.


285. That touches us? Ourself shall be last served. 303. Casca. Are we all ready?—Cas. What is now amiss, &c But this is not noticed in the List.

305. These crouchings, and these lowly courtesies.

Low-crouched courtesies, and base spaniel fawning.
346. Our arms in strength of welcome, and our hearts.
363. A curse shall light upon the loins of men.
461. And things unlikely charge my fantasy.


496. And graze on commons.

541. I shall be glad to learn of abler men.
542. I said, an older soldier, not a better.

But this is only given in the Regulated Text.

559. A flatterer's would not, though they did appear.
620. Come on refreshed, new-hearted, and encouraged.

687. The posture of your blows is yet unknown.
690. While damned Casca, like a cur, behind.

But this is only given in the Regulated Text.

692. Have added slaughter to the word of traitor.
704. Coming from Sardis, on our forward ensign.
709. To stay the providence of those high powers.
711. Must end that work the ides of March began.

But this is only given in the Regulated Text.
794. He only, in a generous honest thought

Of common good to all, made one of them.

And the emendations in the MS. also include the following eleven readings which had been conjecturally proposed before its discovery :


56. That her wide walls encompassed but one man.
57. Under such hard conditions as this time.

130. In favour's like the work we have in hand.


238. We are two lions, littered in one day.
246. Of evils imminent; and on her knee.


305. Into the law of children. Be not fond.

349. Signed in thy spoil, and crimsoned in thy death
358. Have all due rites, and lawful ceremonies.

459. I heard them say, Brutus and Cassius.


530. Brutus, bay not me.


709. The term of life; arming myself with patience.

Finally, the reading of the First Folio, which had been altered in the Second, is restored by the MS. annotator in the following ten instances :



50. That I profess myself in banqueting.

54. But for my single self.

89. But there's no heed to be taken of them


160. Buried in their cloaks.

199. Caius Ligarius doth bear Cæsar hard.

233. The noise of battle hurtled in the air.


529. I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon.

634. Poor knave, I blame thee not.


758. And bring us word unto Octavius' tent.
779. My heart doth joy, that yet, in all my life.

Of these forty four corrections, thirty two are adopted in the present text; and, of the remaining twelve, only one or two can be regarded, I think, as clearly wrong.

I have not thought it necessary to distinguish the cases in which the verbal affix -ed is to be united in the pronunciation with the preceding syllable by the usual substitution of the apostrophe in place of the silent vowel. Why should the word loved, for example, so sounded be represented differently in verse from what it always is in prose? It is true that the cases in which the -ed makes a separate syllable are more numerous in Shakespeare than in the poetry of the present day; but the reader who cannot detect such a case on the instant is disqualified by some natural deficiency for the reading of verse. If any distinction were necessary, the better plan would be to represent the one form by "loved," the other by "lov-ed."

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 (on p. 180), which ought to be 248, onwards to the end of the play.—1863.

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


SCENE I.-Rome. A Street.

Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and a Rabble of CITIZENS.

1. 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 soles.


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 you.

Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

12. 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?

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