Cinna, a Poet. Another Poet.

Lucilius, Titinius, Meffala, Young Cato, and Volumnius; Friends to Brutus and Caffius.

Varro, Clitus, Claudius, Strato, Lucius, Dardanius; Servants to Brutus.

Pindarus, Servant to Caffius.

Calphurnia, Wife to Cæfar.

Portia, Wife to Brutus.

Senators, Citizens, Guards, Attendants, &c.

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

JULIUS CESAR.

ACT I.

SCENE I. 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 fign

Of your profeffion ?Speak, what trade art thou?
I CIT. Why, fir, a carpenter.

MAR. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule?
What doft thou with thy beft apparel on ?-
You, fir; what trade are you?

2 Cır. Truly, fir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would fay, a cobler.

MAR. But what trade art thou? Anfwer me directly. 2 Cır. A trade, fir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, fir, a mender of bad foals. MAR. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?

2 Cır. Nay, I beseech you, fir, be not out with me : yet, if you be out, fir, I can mend

you.

MAR. What meaneft thou by that? Mend me, thou faucy fellow?

2 CIT. Why, fir, cobble you.

FLAV. Thou art a cobler, art thou?

2 CIT. Truly, fir, all that I live by is, with the awl: I meddle with no tradefman's matters, nor women's matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, fir, a surgeon to old fhoes; when they are in great danger, I re-cover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neats-leather, have gone upon my handywork.

FLAV. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why doft thou lead these men about the streets?

2 CIT. Truly, fir, to wear out their fhoes, to get myfelf into more work. But, indeed, fir, we make holiday, to fee Cæfar, and to rejoice in his triumph.

MAR. Wherefore rejoice? What conqueft brings he What tributaries follow him to Rome,

[home?

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 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,
To fee great Pompey pass the streets of Rome:
And when you faw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal shout,
That Tiber trembled underneath her banks,
To hear the replication of your founds,
Made in her concave fhores?

And do you now put on your best attire?
And do you now cull out a holiday?

And do you now ftrew flowers in his way,

That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?

Run to your houfes, 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 this fault, Affemble all the poor men of your sort ;

Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears

Into the channel, till the lowest stream

Do kifs the most exalted fhores of all. [Exeunt CITIZENS.
See, whe'r their bafeft metal be not mov'd;
They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness.
down that way towards the Capitol ;

Go you

This

way will I: Difrobe the images,

If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies,
MAR. May we do fo?

You know, it is the feaft of Lupercal.

FLAV. It is no matter; let no images

Be hung with Cæfar's trophies. I'll about,
And drive away the vulgar from the streets:
So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
Thefe growing feathers pluck'd from Cæfar's wing,
Will make him fly an ordinary pitch;

Who elfe would foar above the view of men,
And keep us all in fervile fearfulness.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. The fame. A publick Place. Enter, in proceffion, with mufick, CESAR; ANTONY, for the courfe; CALPHURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and CASCA, a great crowd following; among them a SOOTH SAXER.

Cas. Calphurnia,

CASCA. Peace, ho! Cæfar speaks.

CES. Calphurnia,—

CAL. Here, my lord.

[Mufick ceafes.

CAS. Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his coùrfe.-Antonius.

ANT. Cæfar, my lord.

CES. Forget not, in your fpeed, Antonius, To touch Calphurnia: for our elders fay, The barren, touched in this holy chafe, Shake off their fteril curse.

ANT. I fhall remember:

When Cæfar fays, Do this, it is perform'd.
CES. Set on; and leave no ceremony out.
SOOTH. Cæfar.

CES. Ha! Who calls?

[Mufick.

CASCA. Bid every noise be still:-Peace yet again.

[Mufick ceafes. CES. Who is it in the press, that calls on me? I hear a tongue, fhriller than all the musick, Cry, Cæfar Speak; Cæfar is turn'd to hear. SOOTH. Beware the ides of March.

CES. What man is that?

BRU. A foothfayer, bids you beware the ides of March. CAS. Set him before me, let me fee his face.

CAS. Fellow, come from the throng: Look upon Cæfar. CES. What fay'ft thou to me now? Speak once again. SOOTH. Beware the ides of March.

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

[Sennet. Excunt all but BRUTUS and CASSIUS. CAS. Will you go fee the order of the course? BRU. Not I.

CAS. I pray you, do.

BRU. I am not gamefome: I do lack fome part