JULIUS CÆSAR

ACT I.

SCENE I. Rome. A street.

Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and certain Commoners.
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?
FIRST COM. 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?

SEC. COM. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.

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MAR. But what trade art thou? answer me directly. SEC. COM. 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?

SEC. COM. 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 !

SEC. COM. Why, sir, cobble you.

FLAV. Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

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SEC. COM. Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl: I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's matters; but withal 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?

SEC. COM. 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. 32

MAR. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he

home?

What tributaries follow him to Rome,

To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels?

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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

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That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?

Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,

Be gone;

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.

бо

[Exeunt all the Commoners. See, whe'er 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. A public place.

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[Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter CESAR; ANTONY, for the course; CALPURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and CASCA; a great crowd following, among them a Soothsayer.

CES. Calpurnia!

Peace, ho! Cæsar speaks.

CASCA.

CES.

CAL. Here, my lord.

CES. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,

When he doth run his course.

ANT. Cæsar, my lord?

Antonius!

CAS. Forget not, in your speed, Antonius,
To touch Calpurnia; for our elders say,
The barren, touched in this holy chase,
Shake off their sterile curse.

I shall remember:

ANT.
When Cæsar says Do this, it is performed.
CES. Set on; and leave no ceremony out.
SOOTH. Cæsar!

CES. Ha! who calls?

Calpurnia!

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[Flourish.

CASCA. Bid every noise be still: peace yet again!
CES. 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.

CES.

What man is that?

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BRU. A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.
CES. Set him before me; let me see his face.
CAS. Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Cæsar.

CES. What say'st thou to me now? speak once again. SOOTH. Beware the ides of March.

CES. He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass.

[Sennet. Exeunt. Manent BRUTUS & 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 behaviours;
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.

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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,

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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

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And groaning underneath this age's yoke,

Have wished that noble Brutus had his eyes.

BRU. Into what dangers would you lead 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 cannot 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 on me, gentle Brutus :
Were I a common laughter, 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.

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[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 honour in one eye and death i' th' other,
And I will look on both indifferently,
For let the gods so speed me as I love
The name of honour more than I fear death.

CAS. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward favour.
Well, honour is the subject of my story.
I cannot 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,
The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,
Cæsar said to me, Darest thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with me into this angry food,

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