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Car. 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 !
Cob. 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 direaly.
Cob. A trade, Sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience; which is indeed, Sir, a mender of bad foals.
Flav. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?
Cob. Nay, I beseech you, Sir, be not out with me : yet if you be out, Sir, I can mend you,
Flav. What mean'st thou by that? mend me, thou faucy fellow?
Cob. Why, Sir, cobble you.
Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thou?
Cob. Truly, Sir, all that I live by, is the awl. I meddle with no mens' matters, nor woman's matters; but withal I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old Thoes ; 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 Thop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets ?
Gob. “ Truly, Sir, to wear out their shoes, to get
myself into more work.” But indeed, Sir, we make holiday to fee Cæsar, and to rejoice in his triumph.
Mar. Wherefore rejoice ! - what conquest brings
What tributaries follow him to Rome, [he home?
To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels?
You blocks, you stones, you worse than senselefs things !
hard hearts ! you cruel men of Rome !
Knew you not Pompey? many a time and oft
Have you climb’d up to walls and battlements,
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,
Your infants in your arms; and there have fat
The live-long day with patient expectation,
10 lee great Ponpey pass the streets of Rome.
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal shout,
That Tyher trembled underneath his banks
To hear the replication of your sounds,
Made in his concave shores?
And do you now put on your best attire ?
And do you now cull out an holiday?
And do you now strew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood !
Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the gods, to intermit the plague
That needs must light on this ingratitude.
Flav, Go, go, good countrymen, and for that faulc
Assemble all the poor men of your fort;
Draw them to Tyber's bank, and weep your tears
Into the channel, till the lowest stream
Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.
See, whe'r their bafest mettle be not mov'd;
They vanish tongue-ty'd in their guiltiness,
Go you down that way tow'rds the Capitol,
This way will I; disrobe the images,
If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies
Mar. May we do fo?
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 pluck'd from Cæsar's wing,,
will make him fly an ordinary pitch;
Who else would sore above the view of men,
And keep us all in. servile fearfulness. [Exeunt severally.
S CE NE II. Enter Cæfar, Antony, for the course. Calphurnia, Por
tia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Callius, Calca, and a Soothsayer. Caf. CalphurniaGafca Peace, ho! Cæfar speaks. Cel. Calphurnia, ceremonies, for religious ornaments.
Galp. Here, my Lord.
Cæj. Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his course- Antonius,
Ant. Cæsar, my Lord,
Caf. Forget not in your speed, Antonius,
To touch Calphurnia ; for our elders say,
The barren touched in this holy chace,
Shake off their steril curse.
Ant, I shall remember.
When Cæfar says, Do this; it is perform'd.
Cef. Set on, and leave no ceremony out.
Caf. Ha! who calls ?
Casca. Bid every noise be stilt; peace yet again.
Caf. Who is it in the press that calls on me?
I hear a tongue, Thriller than all the music,
Cry, Cæfar. Speak; Cæsar is turn'd to hear.
Sooth. Beware the ides of March,
Cæs. What man is that?
Bru. A Scothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.
Cal. Set him before me, let me see his face.
Caf. Fellow, come from the throng, look upon
Cef. What fay'st thou to me now? speak once again.
Sooth. Beware the ides of March.
Caf. He is a dreamer, let us leave him ; pass.
[Exeunt Cælar and thair. S CE N E HI. Manent Brutus and Caffius,
see the order of the course?
Brut. Not I.
Caf, 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, Callius, your desires ;
I'll leave you.
Caf. 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.
Be not deceiv'd : if I have veil'd
I turo 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 foil perhaps to my behaviour:
But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd,
Among which number, Caffius, be you one;
Nor construe any further my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the shews of love to other men.
Caf. Then, Brutus, I have much miftook your pasion;
By means whereof, this breast of mine hath buried
7 boughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?
Bru. No, Caflius; for the eye fees not itself,
But by reflection from some other things.
Caf. 'Tis just.
And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
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,
And groning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wifhd that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Caffius,
That you would have me seek into myself
For that which is not in me!
Caf. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepard to hear; And since you koow you cannot see yourself So well as by reflection, I, your glass, Will modestly discover to yourself That of yourself which yet you know not of.. And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus : Were I a common laugher, or did use : To ftale with ordinary oaths my love To every new protestor; it 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.
[Flourism and shouta.
Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear the people Chuse Cæfar for their King.
Cas. Ay, do you fear it?
Then must I think you would not have it fo.
Bru, I would not, Callius; yet I love him well.
But wherefore do you hold me here so long?
What is it that you would impart to me?
Ifit te aught toward the general gond,
Set lionour in one eye, and Death i'th' other,
And I will look on Death indifferently :
For let the gods so speed me, as I love
The name of Honour more than I fear Death.
Caf. 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 te!l what you and other men
Think of this life ; but for my single felt,
I had as lief not be, as live to be
In awe of such a thing as I myself.
I was born free as Calar, 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 guly day,
os The troubled Tyber chating with his shores,
“ Cæsar says to me, Darst thou, Cassius, now
& Leap in with me into this
angry flood, - And swim to yonder point ?- -Upon the word, • Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,. «s. And bid him follow; fo indeed he did. 5. The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet ic:
With lulty finews; throwing it aside, " And ftemming it with hearts of controversy. « But ere we could arrive the point propos'd,?? Cæjar cry'd, Help me, Cassius, or I fink. I, as Æneas, our great ancestor, Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder 'The old Anchyles bear; fo from the waves of Tyber Did I the tired Cæfar : and this man Is now become a god, and Caflius is
Suin:wing was one of the generous exercisis practised at Rome and Icarned by all the youth of the iselt birth and quality as a new eclary qualification lovards good folic:lbip.