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A Soothsayer, Octavius Cæ-Priumvirs || Young Cato. far,

after the Cinna, a poet. M. Antony,

death of || Another poet. M. Æmilius Le- Julius Lucilius. pidus,

Cæfar. Dardanius, Cicero.

Volumnius, Brutus,

Varro, fervants to Cassius,

Clitus, Brutus. Casca,

conspira- | Claudius, Trebonius,

tors Strato, Ligarius, gainst Lucius, Decius Brutus, 7.Cæfar. Pindarus, servant to Caf Metellus Cimber,

fius. Cinna,

Ghost of Julius Cæfar.

Cobler. ,

Carpenter. Flavius, Tribunes, and || Other Plebeians. Marullus, 3 enemies to Cæfar. Meffala, friends to Brutus Calphurnia, wife to CeTitinius, S and Gafsius.

sar. Artemidorus, a sophift of Portia, wife to Brutus. Gnidos.

Guards and Attendants,

Popilius Læna, Senators.

SCENE, for the three first acts, at Rome ; afterwards

at an isle nęár Mutina, åt Sardis, and Philippi.



A ftreet in Rome.

Enter Flavius, Marullus, and certain Commoners.


ENCE; home, you idle creatures, get

ġou home.

Is this a holiday? what! know you not,

Being mechanical, you ought not walk Upon a labouring day, without the sign Of your profeffion? Speak, what trade art thou ? A 2


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Car. Why, Sir, a carpenter.

T40TADT Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule? T What dost thou with thy best apparel on ?

spots' 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 directly.

Cob. A trade, Sir, that I hope I may use with a fafe conscience ; which is indeed, Sir, a mender of badi foals.

Flav. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?

Cob. Nay, I beseech you, Sir, be not out with me: yet


be out, Sir, I can mend you, Flav. What mean'st thou by that? mend me, thou faucy fellow?

Cób. Why, Sir, cobble you. Flav. Thou art a cobler, art thou ? Cob. Truly, Sir, all that I live by, is the awl. I meddle with no men's matters, nor woman's matters; but withal I am, indeed, Sir, 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 handy-work.

Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets ?

Truly, Sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work." But indeed, Sir, we make holiday. to see Cæfar, and to rejoice in his triumph.

Mar. Wherefore rejoice! - what conqueft brings What tributaries follow him to Rome, :, [he home?! To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels? You blocks, you stones, yoưworse 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, Youc infants in your arms; and there have fat The live long day with patient expectation, To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome. And when you law his chariot But appear, Have you not made an universal ihout,




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That Tyber 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 new cull out an holiday?
And do you now strew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood !
Bei gone
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 fault'
Affemble all the poor men of your fort ;
Draw them to Tyber's bank, and weep your tears
Into the channel, till the lowest streain
Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.

[Exeunt Commoners.
See, whe'r their baseft mettle be not mov'd ;
They vaniih tongue-ty'd in their guiltiness.
Go you down that way tow'rds the Capitol,
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 feast of Lupercal.

Flav. It is no'matter, let no images
Bè 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 Ay an ordinary pitch;
Who else would foar above the view of men,
And keep us all in servile fearfulness. [Exeunt severally,

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Enter Cæfar, Anthony, for the course, Calphurnia,

Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Callius, Casca, and a Soothsayer. Cal. Calphurnia, Casca. Peace, ho! Cæfar speaks. Caf. Calphurnia, ces canoniesor religious or ramenso



Calp. Herę, my Lord.

Caf. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,
When he doth run his course Antonius,

Ant. Cæsar, my Lord.
Gaf. 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 fays, Do this; it is perform'd.

Cæf. Set on, and leave no ceremony out,
Sooth. Cæsar,
Cæs. Ha! who calls ?
Casca. Bid every noise be still; peace yet again.

Caf. Who is it in the press that calls on me?
I hear a tongue, fhriller than all the music,
Cry, Cæfar. Speak; Cæfar is turn'd to hear.

Sooth. Beware the ides of March.
Caf. What man is that?
Bru. A Soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.
Caf. Set him before me, let me see his face.
Caf. Fellow, come from the throng, look upon Cæsar.
Cæf. What say'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 Cæfar and train.
SCENE III. Manent Brutus and Cassius.
Caf. Will you go see the order of the course ?
Bru. Not I.
Caf. I pray you, do.

Bru. I am not gamesome; I do lack some part
Of that quick fpirit that is in Antony:
Let me not hinder, Caflius, your desires;
l'll leave you.

Caf. Brutus, I do observe you now of late ;
I have not from your eyes that gentlenefs
And shew of love as I was wont to have ;,
You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand

friend that loves you.
Bru. Caffius,
Be not deceiv'd: if I have veil'd



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