The Tragedy of Julius Cæsar. ACT FIRST. Scene I. Rome. A street. Enter Flavius, Marullus, and certain Commoners. Flav. Hence! home, you idle creatures, get you home: Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou? First Com. Why, sir, a carpenter. Mar. Where is thy leather apron and thy rule ? Sec. Com. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, of bad soles. ΙΟ 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! 20 Made in her concave shores? And do you now put on your best attire ? 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 Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault, Draw them to Tiber banks and weep your tears Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. 60 [Exeunt all the Commoners. If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies. 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, Who else would soar above the view of men 70 [Exeunt. 80 77 Cas. Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Cæsar. Cas. 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. Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires; Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late: Bru. I have not from your eyes that gentleness Cassius, Be not deceived: if I have veil'd my look, Of late with passions of some difference, Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviours; Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war, Forgets the shows of love to other men. Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion; By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried 30 40 50 |