Cob. 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 tradefmen's matters, nor woman's matters; but with-all, I am, indeed, Sir, a furgeon to old fhoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neats-leather have gone upon my handy-work.

Fla. But wherefore art not in thy fhop to day? Why doft thou lead thefe men about the streets?

Cob. Truly, Sir, to wear out their fhoes, to get myfelf into more work. But, indeed, Sir, we make holiday to fee Cafar, and to rejoice in his triumph. Mar. Wherefore rejoice!-what conqueft brings

he home?

What tributaries follow him to Rome,

To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels ?
You blocks, you ftones, you worfe than fenfeless 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 pafs the ftreets of Rome:
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal shout,
That Tyber trembled underneath his banks.
To hear the replication of your founds,
Made in his concave fhores?

And do you now put on your
beft attire?
And do you now cull out an holiday?
And do you now ftrew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Begone-

Run to your houfes, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the Gods, to intermit the plague,
That needs muft 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 loweft ftream

Do kifs the most exalted fhores of all.

[Exeunt Commoners.
See, whe're their baseft 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; 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 ftreets:
So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
Thefe growing feathers, pluckt from Cajar's wing,
Will make him fly an ordinary pitch;

Who else would foar above the view of men,
And keep us all in fervile fearfulnefs. [Exeunt feverally..

Enter Cæfar, Antony, for the Courfe, Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Caffius, Cafca, a Soothsayer.

Caf. CALPHURNIA,

Cafca. Peace, ho! Cafar fpeaks.

Caf. Calphurnia,

Calp. Here, my lord.

Caf. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,
When he doth run his CourfeAntonius,-
Ant. Cæfar, my lord.

Caf. Forget not in your speed, Antonius,
To touch Calphurnia; for our Elders fay,
The barren, touched in this holy chafe,
F 2

Shake

Shake off their fteril curfe.

Ant. I fhall remember.

When Cæfar fays, do this; it is perform'd.
Caf. Set on, and leave no ceremony out.
Sooth. Cafar,

Caf. Ha! who calls?

Cafca. Bid every noise be still: peace yet again. Caf. Who is it in the Prefs, that calls on me? I hear a tongue, fhriller than all the mufic, Cry, Cæfar. Speak; Cæfar is turn'd to hear. Sooth. Beware the Ides of March.

Caf. What man is that?

Bru. A foothfayer bids you beware the Ides of March.

Caf. Set him before me, let me fee his face.

Caf. Fellow,come from the throng, look upon Cæfar. Caf. What fay'ft thou to me now? fpeak once again. Sooth. Beware the Ides of March.

Caf. He is a dreamer, let us leave him; pafs.

[Exeunt Cæfar and Train.

Manent Brutus and Caffius.

Caf. WILL you go fee the order of the Course?

Bru. Not I.

Caf. I pray you, do.

Eru. I am not gamesome; I do lack fome part Of that quick spirit that is in Antony :

Let me not hinder, Caffius, your defires;

I'll leave you.

Caf. Brutus, I do observe you now of late; I have not from your eyes that gentleness, And fhew of love, as I was wont to have; You bear too flubborn and too ftrange a hand Over friend that loves you.

your Bru. Caffius,

Be not deceiv'd if I have veil'd my look,

I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself. Vexed I am,
Of late, with paffions of fome difference
Conceptions only proper to myself;

Which give fome foil, perhaps, to my behaviour:
But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd.
Among which number, Caffius, be you one;
Nor conftrue any farther my neglect,

Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the fhews of love to other men.

Caf. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your paffion;

By means whereof, this breast of mine hath buried
Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
Tell me, good Brutus, can you fee your face?
Bru. No, Caffius; for the eye fees not itself,
But by reflexion from fome other things.
Caf. 'Tis juft.

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,

That you have no fuch mirrors, as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
That you might fee your fhadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome,
(Except immortal Cæfar) fpeaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wifh'd, that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Caffius,
That you would have me feek into myself,
For that which is not in me?

Caf. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear;
And fince you know, you cannot fee yourself
So well as by reflexion; I, your glass,
Will modeftly difcover 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 proteftor; if you know,

F 3

That

That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
And after fcandal them; or if you know,
That I profefs myfelf in banqueting

To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

[Flourish and fhout.

Bru. What means this fhouting? I do fear, the

People

Chufe Cæfar for their King.

Caf. Ay, do you fear it?

Then must I think you would not have it fo.

Bru. I would not, Caffius; yet I love him well:
But wherefore do you hold me here fo 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 Death indifferently:
For, let the Gods fo fpeed 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 fubject of my ftory:
I cannot tell, what you and other men
Think of this life; but for my fingle felf,
I had as lief not be, as live to be
In awe of fuch a thing as I myself.

I was born free as Cæfar, fo 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 gufly day,
The troubled Tyber chafing with his fhores,
Cæfar fays to me, dar'ft thou, Caffius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,
And swim to yonder point ?-Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,

And bid him follow; fo, indeed, he did.
The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lufty finews; throwing it aside,
And ftemming it with hearts of controversy.

But